>>58928529DO YOU WANT THIS TO HAPPEN IJ THE RAMKES OR WHAT
AND MY NAME ISNT SHAUN
STOP CALLING ME IT
MY NAME SYARTS WITHD
RESPECT ME
The oppressive, rhythmic churning was the only world Cynthia knew. Time had lost all meaning inside the Seviper’s gut. It was a universe of wet, muscular heat, of constant, searing pain that had long since blurred into a single, unbearable sensation of being dissolved. Her skin felt raw, flayed. The acids, potent and relentless, had eaten through the last scraps of her lingerie, leaving her completely exposed to the digestive embrace. Her family heirloom necklace was a cold, hard brand against her sternum, the only thing resisting the corrosive slurry.
Her mind floated in a haze of agony and despair. She could no longer scream. Her throat was raw, filled with viscous fluid. Her lungs burned with every shallow, labored breath, drawing in the thick, chemical-scented air of the stomach. Her arms, wrenched behind her back, were numb, fused to the convulsing wall by pressure and slime. Her legs were curled tight, knees pressed against her chest in a fetal position that the snake’s stomach had mercilessly molded her into.
…a week… she said a week… The thought was a dull echo. How long has it been? Hours? A day?
The outside world was a series of muffled vibrations. The thunderous heartbeat. The gurgle of fluids. And, occasionally, the hated, honeyed voice of Aldith, speaking to her pet, the words distorted but intelligible through layers of muscle and scale.
“How is our guest, my darling? Settling in nicely?”
Cynthia whimpered, a bubble of despair escaping her lips. She felt a hand press against the stomach wall from the outside, a familiar, humiliating caress against the curve of her hip.
“Still squirming. Good. Vitality means nutrients. You’re doing so well, Sevvy. The grandest meal.”
Then, a new sound. A electronic chirp. Aldith’s radio.
“Report,” a voice crackled—Ghetsis.
