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She screamed, but the sound was muffled, swallowed by the thick, muscular flesh pressing in from all sides. She felt the backward-pointing teeth grip the fabric of her distinctive black coat, not tearing, but holding, as the powerful throat muscles began a rhythmic, undulating pull. No no no NO!
Aldith’s voice was distant, distorted. “Good boy… take your time. Savor the champion of Sinnoh. Such a tall, statuesque meal… you’ll be nourished for weeks. And such fine, natural fabrics she wears! No nasty synthetics for my darling. She was always better as snake chow than a battler, anyway.”
The ingestion was a slow, relentless, and deeply intimate violation. Cynthia felt her body being consumed inch by agonizing inch. The pressure was immense, a full-body compression that squeezed her breasts flat, forced her trapped arms deeper behind her back, and molded her legs together. She kicked, her leather boots thrashing in the open air, a futile protest against the inevitable.
She could feel Aldith’s hands outside, helping to guide her descent, pushing her feet forward when they caught. “Almost there, my pet! Just the main course to go!”
The champion’s mind fractured under the sensory onslaught. The heat was a living thing, already seeping through her coat and pants. The darkness was absolute, smothering. The sounds were the deafening thunder of the serpent’s heartbeat, the gurgle of its systems, and the wet, squelching glrk-glrk-glrk of her own body being drawn deeper. She pleaded to a God that felt infinitely distant. Arceus, why? Why this? No dignity… just… food…
Her thoughts spun to her protege, Dawn, so bright and hopeful. I’ve failed you. I’ve failed everyone. She thought of her grandmother in Celestic Town, of the ancient legacy she carried. The greatest living legacy of the Celestican people, Aldith had mocked. And I end as serpent shit.
Her feet, still booted, were the last to go. She felt Aldith grasp her ankles, giving one final, celebratory shove.
