Fingers! A tight grip! Vertigo! Sneaking up behind me the only warning I received from Holly’s snatch and grab was the moment I’d noticed my feet were no longer on the kitchen table. An index finger around my chest, a thumb pressed against my thighs, the sheer thoughtless force of her movements swaying my whiskers wildly. 

“Here boy, look what I found for you!” the feminine voice thundered up ahead, twisting me in her palms so as to grip my tail and dangle the rest of my body down like a ball on a string. Looking down I could see it for the first time. 

That dopey face and grinning jaws. Short floppy ears with a wide-set skull design, half of its face devoted to an elongated muzzle. Barely any whiskers to speak of, numerous but short and stiff and useless. It’s nose was black and glistened with a distinct wet sheen, and it’s tongue flopped out the side of its cheeks”

“Squeak?”

When did we get a dog? 

“Aaaaand …” the tigress woman above me dipped her hand down so that my face brushes just next to the doggy’s muzzle, it’s breath washing into my senses like a foul exhaust. Then she swings up, using my tail like a pendulum and releasing just at the apex. “Catch!”

My belly to the air and face level with hers for a moment. The world spins. My belly to the wall and four paws grasping at nothing, getting a brief look at the kitchen around me, my huntress waifu in her evening wear, and the fully grown dog leaning it’s muzzle back to aim for me. 

I fall. 

“N-nnnnooooooo!” 

Teeth sail past, a tongue rushes up to greet me, the scent of noxious breath hits me almost as hard as the impact itself. Slobber on my face and on my chest, the bottom whiskers clung to the puppy’s cheeks by thick drool and the entire tooth lined maw tilting back to direct me onwards. I could see my paws in front of my face and the pink walls with slick black splotches running along it all slick with spittle. 

A loud clack as the teeth close behind me, the air suddenly stuffy and oppressive, the light vanishing as instantly as I had. Not even my tail was exposed past this dog’s mouth, and the side of my cheeks were pressed roughly against the back of its throat. 

“You make this doggy spit me out right this instant young lady!” I shout back, realizing I’ll never have time to get my bearings and lashing out without trying. My feet bracing into the tongue, my hands shoving into the openly inviting gullet. 

Gluck.

Well, that was the answer the dog offered. I didn’t even notice it leaning it’s head back, the throat ahead of me just opened up, the tongue behind lifted and squeezed over my backside, and then I was wrapped up inside a bundle of oppressively tight muscles. Mucus lines the walls and soaks through my fur, obnoxious bubbles of spit slide between my ears and cling to the patches of thick hair on my chest. My finger could feel the green, slobbery snot oozing between the gaps, sticking to the space beneath my claws. 

“Naaahhh.” I heard her voice, loud and thunderous as always but now muffled, competing with the steady beat of a doggy’s heart down bellow and mixing with the slick gloopy sounds of the throat contracting around me. A few more gulps and I wasn’t anywhere near the mouth. 

My arms press into the gullet, my legs scrape against flesh for any form of purchase, and for all my effort I wasn’t even a bulge to the outside observer. Having vanished completely almost the instant those jaws had closed behind me. Feeling the wriggly lump of mouse sliding down into it’s belly, I could almost feel the way it’s jaws opened back up to show an empty maw. I could so easily feel the way this dog was smiling and happy, it’s rump shaking back and forth with every excited wag of a tail. 

“Look how happy that dog is, he’s ecstatic!” Holly’s voice offered back with a teasing mischief. 

My face squelches against a tight sphincter, and I hardly have a moment to scramble into position before it opens up to accept my arrival. 

“It’s suffering!” I scream back. “This doggy will uh, get sick! Mice are like chocolate and poison to dogs! LetmeoutAaahhbadhoooolllymgpgh!”

The compression around my face releases, the throat having preformed it’s duty and the stomach now waiting to accept me. It wasn’t very open except when compared to the throat, for while larger it still happened to be a tad smaller than my rounded bulk. And the rings of muscle behind me didn’t seem to care that my thighs had to be shoved against my chin or the way my back was forced to curl against this rounded chamber, it still shoved me the rest of the way in with a dominating force. 

Facedown and tail up in the sickly bile, complete darkness in all directions and a disgusting lack of air, the previous contents rose to wash against my belly and seep between my armpits. Some floundering to keep my head above the surface was required, and the stomach walls offered little assistance in this endeavor. Instead stretching taut, only just enough to keep me inside but never enough to give me room to maneuver. 

A swing. The wall became the floor, and every inch of slime splashed about in a violent surge. The surface now soaking into my cheeks, against my left eye, sticking inside my ear like the worst wet willy imaginable. From the other side I felt the walls clamp down and squeeze, pressing harshly enough to knock the wind out of me. Soggy chunks of dog barf oozing over my skin was not the most pleasant of sensations, especially when mostly immobile and struggling to breathe. 

But that’s when I noticed a hard lump. The shape of a skull, no … half of one. The scratchy sensation of shredded, dripping cloth rubbed between my legs. Feeling around, just against my shoulder blades, I could make out the shape of a cell phone washing amongst the slime. 

“hrmpghf!” that did not sit well with me. But I wasn’t in much of a position to investigate. “It would totally be fair! Dogs barf all the time, and then just lick their barf up! Come oooogngmpgh … ggnogngh!” 

So hard to speak. The side of the tummy walls sticking up squeezed my face beneath the surface and clamped down hard onto my skull, closing my jaws shut and leaving only bubbled chirps to escape. Still muffled further by the stomach walls. The area around my legs relaxed, but that just meant thrashing kicks which did little beyond tell the dog I was still alive in here. 

Was she … was Holly rubbing the dog’s belly? Ohsqueakwhy, you need to stop!

“This is actually hilarious Arbon.” The voice is barely audible over a constant, thick schloorp. I can feel the lungs expanding beneath me and causing the stomach to shift, I wince at the stinging bubbles of chime and snot being lathered into my skin. Every inch of my surroundings vibrate as a response to her teasing, as if the waves caused by a grinding stomach wall just wasn’t enough. “Such a silly submissive little rodent you are.”

That does it …

“Nuuuu! I am pred!” I babble off incoherently, making a deliberate effort to be cute and tease back rather than serious. Besides if she wasn’t going to help me out anyway I might as well tease back. “Viscious ultimate predator who will devour you aaaaaalll!”

I don’t think it worked.

Shuddered booms as the tigress walks away, a bounce and a sway when the dog jolts onto its feet. The burning slop splashed back into place and filled the entire stomach for that brief moment, a mist of bubbles with gas in between that seems to settle. I could feel my bell collar growing heavy from absorbed muck, and the weight of day old dog food lathered into my fur. 

Have you ever tried to pick up barf after someone has puked? Sickly green, mucky yellows, sometimes brown, and occasionally marked with chunks of undigested material. Carrots or corn seem to be the most common sight, though occasionally lumpy blobs of meat. Imagine how that feels in your hand, even if you are using a towel or a napkin. When fresh it is warm to the touch, and that heat drifts through whatever hand coverings you might possess to make certain you know what you are holding. 

That is what my entire body felt like, across my everything. The floor became a wall, the back end shakes wildly as I can feel this dog’s rump wagging with an energetic gusto. My shoulders splayed backward and my hips pointed up, there was no real way to keep my head above the slop, and no single part that happened to be clean or dry, everything was food and acid and bubbles. 

The majority of it a mush of some color, hard to discern in this complete darkness. An almost uniform layer of warmth and ick from what was likely once dog food. If kibble was disgusting when wet and allowed to soak for too long, bloating up and becoming squishy like a sponge, then having it rubbed around your legs after it’s been soaking in mucus and acid was several steps above. And instead of chunks of food, what kept bumping into me were the remains of some micro. A bone, bits of a skull, wet scraps of cloth. All felt rather than seen, and all impossible to escape from. How much of this gloop used to be a person, and how much of it was dogfood?

I suppose all of it is dogfood now.

It was warm. Hot enough I longed to open my jaws and pant, though any attempt to do so just resulted in tasting the meal I’ve just become a part of. Heat that builds and builds and never relents, the warmth of my own body at once dwarfed by the flesh and fur surrounding me, and adding to it at the same time. A live meal was a warm meal, and a wriggly one coats itself in acid more readily. To say nothing of how this probably felt like a tummy rub from the inside whenever I kicked out, or slid my shoulders across the wall lining.

My back arches, the stomach flattens, and without warning my belly is smeared against the roof of the stomach. My entire body laid out flat with just enough room for me length wise, but no height whatsoever. My jaws pinned tight, the layers of caked on sludge filling every inch of space around me. 

Just as quickly as it had started, it ended with a punch to the back of my head. The stomach reversed it’s motions, widening lengthwise and closing from behind, forcing my face between my own legs and shoving my feet behind my ears. Bundled up in a painful little ball with dogfood trapped against my belly and someone’s bones jammed behind my neck.

So hard to breathe …

Warm, and wet, and then everything started bouncing. 

“Fetch!” I could hear Holly shouting. From far away, so far away she couldn’t be felt, and then the belly around me speeds up.

Bouncing, and bouncing, and slamming hard to the left. It tilts upright so my head is above my feet, then tilts back down to let the mucky grime ooze down into my lips, across my nose. My whiskers felt nothing at all with so much gunk in all directions, my fur was now neatly coated in this disgusting puke. I could feel the dog’s happiness eminating from around when it snatched it’s jaws around something and bound back toward my waifu. 

“Good girl, yeeesss. That’s a gooood girl! Now go fetch!” I heard her again. Closer, but high up. I could the scraping as her paws rub against fur, that silken swooshy sound not unlike wind blowing through grass. 

A hard shove to the right, my side smothered into the wall and momentum holding me there for a moment, only for the guts to decide it was time for another punch. The stomach leveled off lengthwise, but squeezed in from the sides and expanded tall. The roof became so far away not even my long whiskers could feel it, and my tail was left to drape down onto my chin. My ribs were squashed from the left and right, arms pinned at my sides and legs forced to cross, my hips straining against the incredible muscular force behind this creature’s guts.

All of the other food remained at the bottom. With me, around me, pooling to fill most available space and leaving only parts of my knees and head above the sludge. I took this time to breathe, to lean my head back and keep my eyes closed. Taking in the gut wrenching scents of doggy breath and old barf and fresh mucus all around. Soggy doggy food remained the most overwhelming scent, and I could make the individual species that had been ground up and dried to make those little pellets of crunchy foodstuffs. 

None of this was pleasant, not in the slightest. 

Another bounce, another swing, the dog’s harsh turns slamming my sides into the slicked walls and sending a surge of muck to carry me along. The rolls were the worst, whenever this foul canine happened to miss a grab and tumble through the grass. Vertigo when the floor becomes the ceiling, and the taste of bile on my lips when the sludge is sent flying. 

With a happy trot I could hear it bounding back toward holly, ball in mouth, and I took this time to shout for all I was worth. 

“I will devour you! Just as soon as I escape this puppy!” a thick glob mats down onto my tongue, I could feel the grind of a skull against my cheek. There was no place for my legs to hold a firm purchase, and everything still conspired to move and flex even when the dog was still. I had to spit, embarrassingly forced to sputter, and just as loudly screamed out over how awful this flavor was. “Aaamgpgh!”

My reward for the effort of screaming was limited to just this flavor, for the ball is quietly plucked away and Holly goes right back to playing fetch. As if she hadn’t heard a word of it, or perhaps didn’t care. 

Whiskers were starting to sting, the flesh around my muzzle growing soft and the bubbles sizzling in my ears, popping like a soda after it’s been thoroughly shaken. Everything lapped against my face. My tongue was starting to hurt and my fingers had grown numb. Up and down the motions went with this dog’s lopping run, then up and down once more. Wall and floor became meaningless as they never stayed in the same positions, the stomach tilting up when the doggy leaps into the air and then everything slides back downward as it bends to snatch up a ball.

Darkness. Complete and overwhelming darkness. Caught in the sweltering heat I cannot scramble away from, impossible to tell where the entrance was or where the exit might be. Everything moved. Clamping down and splashing out. Another hard turn and once more I could feel Holly’s presense, hear the faint sound of her breathing or the scrape as her palms rub against the dog’s fur. 

“This is wrrrooooongg!” I shout at the top of my lungs, and to my surprise I am offered a response. Distant, muffled, sounding both wet and restrained as her words struggle to make it through so many layers of flesh and fur. Even now the stomach offers no mercy, no sign of relenting, and so it was a strain to make out even her thundering sentences over the beating heart, or the churning waves all about me.

So … hot … so very warm. 

“Arbon, arbon, arbon. Really?” she tsks. “You spend so much time teasing me and making me question my predator status, and now you want mercy? Why, dear rodent. You’re going to have to a lot better at begging than that to get anything like that from me.” 

I splutter in this moment of relative peace, her petting meant the dog stayed still and the stomach only had its own grind to work with. Orienting myself toward the direction of her voice, I made sure to hold my head high above the murky bog and bellow with all the tremendous power of a mouse. Someone with keen hearing could probably have made it out. Probably. I was far too panicked to take my time and think things through however. 

“YouAreNotPred Now release meeeeee ccmphhhd!” a string of bubbles in the snot drip down, sliding over my muzzle and dipping across the tip of my nose. “It’s disgusting in here! And humiliating, mousies cannot be dog treats! You are a tiger, you can’t have a doggypet! Stalph this hearsay!” 

My ears perk to the telltale sound of … crunching? 

Chewing. Swallowing … 

The obnoxiously wet gluck of something wet and mushy being squeezed through a tube, and the rustling of plastic from somewhere outside.

I discovered what Holly’s response had been the moment chewed up dogfood splashes against my nose with a revolting splat, the scent of fresh dogbreath from further up so much more pleasant than the sloppy barf I was marinated in. Like water from a hose it gushed forth, washing over my chest, forcing my ears back. The food itself was obviously a dry doggy treat, stale pepperoni smells sliding out from a tube just in front of me and filling up space with a terrifying quickness. 

Placing my hand against the entrance did nothing to slow its descent. The slippery feeling of dog slobber oozing between my fingers, the horrible burn of spices and ground meat chunks flooding the air. Never detracting from the horrible scents, or the oppressive heat, only adding to it as if a deliberate effort to compound any misery this canine’s prey might feel. 

“H-heempghg!” I try in vein to get more words out through the distant crunching, and as if the stream became a river more treats soon followed. The second one coming at force and making the bile all around me rise up past my waist. A third one throws my head back and leaves very little space between myself and the stomach wall. Forced to swipe it off me, when it globs into the stinking pile like a mud blob in a bog, the acids rise higher. 

The fourth one knocks me off my feet. Not from the force behind it, but just the fact I was running out of room, it shoved into the top of me, and my legs were on something more slippery than ice. Thighs spread and legs sliding above my head, the oozing sludge of dog slobber is roughly sloughed between my legs. 

Do you have any idea what this feels like? Chewed up food, the remains of a micro corpse already melted beyond recognition, dog bile, and bubbles of enzymes all rubbing over your crotch and snaking between the crack in your backside. Ohsqueakwhy I started thrashing in vigor, leading only to a thorough mixing of the various foodstuffs around me. And perhaps a happier dog, for his tail wagged harder when my flails rubbed his belly from within. 

Holly didn’t relent and the dog wasn’t full yet. The next pile of chewed up treatmush is broken away, shredded amongst the rest of this stomach’s contents by my rapidly moving arms. The next one was bigger, and flowed over  my upper body like a tidal wave. Burying most of my chest and rising a little over halfway to the stomach’s roof. 

My attempts to sit up waylaid by both the slippery confinement and the weight being pressed in from above, the next glob of food slides in before I can breach the surface. Leaving only an inch or so of empty space left, and myself utterly smothered in the gloopy, sticky mess. It lathered beneath my fur and seemed to make my skin grow softer. Or maybe that was just the acids affecting me already? The air was more stale and the overpowering smells of dogfood were simply replaced with this equally horrible smell. 

Another treat, adding to the weight, further reducing how much space I had to maneuver, and it all culminated in …

“Urp.” 

Such a tiny belch. Almost unnoticeable to the outside observer, but from within this was a world shaking experience. Without warning everything convulsed, a sudden and violent contraction in which every single wall conspired to crush it’s meal. The space was flattened out to less than half its original space in an instant, and every scrap of air that might have been useful was forced to slide up that tube and out the pupper’s mouth. 

My arms pinned to either side, my tail wrapped up against my neck, my whiskers … I couldn’t feel them anymore. Not that there was much to feel beyond this uniform consistency of warm slobber and snot. 

The old melted dog food from this morning was outright horrible. This freshly chewed dogfood was not even slightly better, especially when it kept restricting my movement, rubbing against my eyelids with that rough slop. 

Everything shifts, the entire world throws itself to one side and a humongous thud jostles the landscape. I could feel her now, Holly’s hand returning to rub the dog belly, sliding over my position and moving on without a care. She couldn’t feel me of course. And when I kicked, I didn’t quite make it to the tummy walls, so much force lost trying to slough through the layers of food. 

“Hrm .. I wonder, dear mouse.” She taunts, considering. Her voice is quiet and distant, but it was a lifeline to the world outside of dogmeat. “What would convince a pathetic, miserable creature like you otherwise? Not that your words mean much … but rubbing it in your face does seem like an entertainin diversion … hrm? And not like you can do much else right now. Ahahah. AHAhahahaha!” 

I choked on the grime, spitting up a bit of the foodstuff and doing my best to stand. The rain of doggytreats stops, and now the thick panting outside was a constant annoyance. 

Breathe.

Need air. Need to control my own breath. Need to find air! 

Claws scraping through the mulch, the taste of spit so much better than the flavors of bile and rot, it was with a fair bit of difficulty and an equal measure of panic that I slide away some of the treatmush away from one small section. Mostly just trying to ease my head forward and up, scrambling against the slip and slide of a tummy wall to ease my shoulders up the slope. 

Being so much heavier than the food around me naturally meant this stomach wanted me at the bottom, wanted me in the center. And it’s grinding, while moving me about, did nothing to assist in my climb.

The tiniest pocket of space, the slim fragment of stale air that had once been trapped inside spit bubbles. Breathing through it was an exercise in getting my nose clogged and my tongue lathered in dog kisses, but it was enough for the barest hint of a breath. It was just enough to squeak out again. 

“Y-you think this has me beat? I c-mgpggh …” ohsqueakno the taste. It all moved again! It went right down my mouth! Have to spit, have to keep trying. “I c-could escape at any t-tuuiiime I …. Aamgpghgohgodnooooo! NO! S-staalpghgm!” 

And I am again reduced to frantic splashing within, as the belly clenches down on the bit of space I’d made and started to churn more fiercely at its contents. Even sitting still the dog’s stomach needed to grind, crushing down to break up all these large meaty chunks that now float freely. A mouse was a bit less than half of the stomach’s capacity, but now this belly was full to the brim, and very keen on evening things out. 

Twin bulges squeezes against my cheeks, forcing my lips open and oozing sludge against my teeth. Buck teeth saved me from this thoroughly unpleasant experience, but it was only a rescue in relative terms. Feeling this against my naked body wasn’t an improvement. A harsh grind clamps onto my legs and starts crushing the toes. A thick squirt from one end eases all of the mush to the opposite side, clearly working to maneuver all of the food around me so as to lather acid bubbles through it all. 

“I w-wmgph will not be a doggy poo! Ma-mgph … mark my mgop … w-wwoooooorrdds!” 

Holly actually seemed annoyed now. 

“Oh that’s ridiculous. What would it take for –you- to finally admit that I’m a decent pred! I will keep tormenting you until I get an answer.” 

No time, my response as muted as my breath, her fingers jabbed into a fleshy spot and kept poking. One section of the walls at my back extended inward and stabbed against my midsection, crushing my lungs and pushing through my arms. But she just kept prodding, the next jostle of a happy puppydog and a harsh stab of the fingers flattens into my head. 

She could feel me, I know she could, because when I shoved back to get her grubby paws away and dip my nose against the walls she pulled her arm back. Only to return a third time, shoving against my butt and spreading my legs, offering the feel of a dog’s stomach sliding underneath my tail. 

She must have gotten tired waiting for me, her voice seemed more insistent. 

“So get talking, pipsqueak. I don’t have all day to watch a dog digest you alive.” 

Darkness and wet and everything burned. My arms weak against her shoves, spinning about to orient myself and slap against the walls. Limp wristed and struggling for air the stomach clamps back down on me. Mushy treats oozed through clenched teeth, forcing me to taste it once more. Slightly more tolerable than the bile of old digested slop, but still awful in all the wrong ways. A churn, a clench, the stomach tumbles me about like clothing in a washing machine even when she pulls her hand up. 

I try to breath. Try to squeak. Scalding hot bubbles irritated every portion of flesh and fingers, my tail was itching so badly I almost wished it would just fall off. A pain to orient myself, a struggle just to keep my head gasping above the thick sludge. Dog barf was just everywhere and could not be avoided.

“N-nnoooo!” I shout pitifully, supping air whenever a bubble came my way. Taste of it stung my tongue, and scalted my lips. “Holly ihsm foodstuffs! Just like Chtulhu, or that demon god lolth, or the ruler of hellmpggh.” 

I have to stop and clear the glop from my face. Clawed fingers scooping through thick muck that seemed to get thicker with time, sticky as glue, and warmer. So much warmer than before, the full heat of the dog all around me and nowhere for the rising temperature to vent. 

“Or vampires! Simple snack foods and n-nothing more! You aren’t a decent pred, you are one of the highest teirs of pred.” ohsqueakno I accidentally licked it. There was a skull by my face, well half a skull, and when talking a convulsion shoved it into my open jaws. That was disgusting on an all new level and aarrthgmp why does it taste worse than the barf? 

I forced myself to continue.

“And that is what makes you mousefood just like all the other pathetic little tastygods. THERE. I said it. Leeetmeeeeoooouuuuutt!”

My immediate response was a resounding slap. Gentle petpats as she makes the fatty pudge of that dog’s belly jiggle about, and all of the air bubbles inside my tomb start rising to the surface. She says nothing, at least not to me, and I can hear some pleased girly cooing noises from her affection toward the dog. She hadn’t left, but she wasn’t answering me. 

A hard jab from my elbow gets me absolutely nothing. I had all of thirty seconds to enjoy the foul taste of not quite breathable air before the dog rolls back onto it’s feet, the roof becomes the floor, and what had once been the place up top for all the bubbles to congregate had now become the bottom. A wave of fresh mulch washes over me, sliding past the side of my cheeks, sticking to the flesh and pulling out bits of stray hair wherever it lingers too long.

My fur was coming off in clumps. The joints of my fingers stung, the armpits and beneath my tail felt like something was jabbing them with needles over and over, while mercifully the rest of me just felt numb. 

Lungs aching and my blood slow, my entire body felt as if it had already melted from the heat. I dare not attempt to pant, my ears turned bright red in an effort to draw heat away from my core, but there was no cool breeze to draw from. 

A tickle against my nose. I felt it, and realized with a cold dread, that this was one of my detached whiskers being rammed into my face. No matter how much I moved the dog just offered it’s happy, lopping pant as if this were perfectly normal. Completely natural. Ohsqueakwhyletmeoutrightnow!

“I am a simple tiger.” Holly concludes at last. “Now I am just confused. Bwah. I’ll leave you in there to churn until I can figure out what that even meant.”

Waitwat …

“Bye, arbon~”

No! Noooooononoo!

“Hrmpgh! Waitwain-nuuumpph!” I flailed, panicking with an all new burst of energy, feet bracing into the stomach wall and trying to stand up. Kicking out with this slow pressure that juuust barely lifts my head back to where the new surface was. There were no bubbles coming to wait for me, and no pocket of air to sup from, this was mostly just the thick mattress of a tummy wall that I could scream against. “Come baaaackcmpggh!” 

Another wash of that meaty chemical broth, processed dog food sizzling away as the dog is left alone to do whatever it was a dog does. My tiny squeaks muffled against the wet glorping sounds, 

I suspect she didn’t hear me, and as usual had little reason to heed my demands. The wagging tail rocks my head to the left and right, slamming my cheeks against the sides and making waves of that glop surge over me. I wasn’t just buried in it, I was entombed. Even when finding a gap somewhere the doggy barf still soaked down the length of my arms, it still covered every centimeter of my face and consumed every waking gasp. I could feel that canine moving, sauntering out to go play with something new. 

And for the first time it actually dawned on me. I was going to see, firsthand, exactly what goes on in this dog’s life for at least the rest of the day …

Ssqueeaaaak!