Nobody's Servant, Act 1

Not Quite The Beginning [vore]

How badly I'd love to tell you I'm boldly picking up what remains of my undeath, starting over with nothing but the clothes I was wearing when it all went wrong. But at this moment I can't even claim to have those.

I am in need of transport, as far and as fast from here as possible. I thought I had found it.

Or rather, found the person I was told could arrange that, and she seemed ordinary enough at a distance. A morph, canine at that; you can't get much more ordinary than that. She was just as quiet as everyone said, and she matched the description; a side-striped jackal, draped in long red hair secured by a round, tan hat. Having potentially found my ticket off this soggy island, I didn't think too much about approaching her as she snoozed at the base of one of the few trees that spring up from the grassy cliff. That'd be my first mistake.

I've called a couple of different places home, growing up, but they were both part of the same island chain. Despite the differences between them, the nice thing they had in common was that nobody around seemed to consider eye contact as being grounds for biting someone in half.

I didn't realize that would be something I'd so pertinently learn I would miss.

I started to say something, she lifted her paperback off of her face, I made eye contact with her, she made eye contact with me; it was nice for about four seconds. The following four carried the stammered beginnings of my introduction, which met head-on with an entropic flash from her outstretched hands. Which brings us to now.

Black vapor still drifts from my suddenly-unclad, suddenly-smaller body, rising from her mouth like the aftermath of firebreath. Not that she can breathe fire. I hope. That would be just my luck though, wouldn't it?

Her lower teeth rest just behind my head, and my legs braced against the roof of her mouth act as the only things saving me from a decapitation my growing anxiety insists is coming. I can't exactly reposition myself, or else believe me, I would love to, just to keep myself mostly out of harm's way. Truth be told, I'm panicking a lot more than I let on.

"I think there's been a serious misunderstanding!" I call. "I need t-"

Before I can finish explaining myself, I'm interrupted by her tongue curling around behind me and tugging me inwards, flipping me onto my stomach and allowing the cage of fangs to lock shut around me, only narrowly missing one of my ankles.

I can't see, but I can feel the sudden tilt and I know what it means even before I begin sliding forward. I scramble to flip myself around, facing towards the front again and standing quickly, bracing against the fleshy ceiling with my hands to avoid being swallowed.

"Can we talk this out?!" I shout. I know she can hear me but she's not giving me a response. Perhaps she was as suspicious about me as I was supposed to be about her.

I sigh in relief as her jaws part and let sunlight in, thinking she's become more inclined to listen to reason, but I was wrong again. I've been wrong a lot today. A manicured claw dives in, jabbing me in the ribs and causing me to lose my hold. My perspective flips upside-down, sending me into the humid depths headfirst.

Maybe it's worth mentioning I've not even been awake for three hours. Just to give you an idea of how quickly my day turned bad.

From all directions slick muscle slams into me, tugging me down as I flail in vain. The constant constriction squeezes the air from my lungs, and robs me of my ability to fight back effectively. Although, once you're past the molars, that's basically it.

Don't get me wrong; I haven't accepted my fate in the slightest. On principle, I'm never as dignified in reality as I try to sound. But you know what, who cares? I'm gonna die.