Mario vore tails

Title: The Warmth Within

The world inverted. One moment, the cool blue of Sky Chase, the frantic rush of wind through twin-tails. The next, a sudden, encompassing darkness, thick with the scent of mushrooms and old spice. Mario's stomach.

It wasn't the sharp terror Tails expected. It was... muffled. The roar of digestion was a distant, sloshing thunder, a slow start deep below him. Safe? The word echoed strangely in the confined heat. Was it safety, or simply the absence of immediate violence? The walls pulsed gently around him, a living, breathing enclosure. He could feel Mario - the subtle shifts of his body as he moves, the deep vibrations of his voice when he shouted (muffled, distorted, like thunder through clouds) at some distant foe.

Sound was warped here. The frantic buzz of badniks, the cheerful chime of rings - all replaced by the gurgle and sigh of internal workings, the rhythmic thump-thump of a giant heart nearby. His own breathing sounded loud in his ears, hot and damp against the slick, yielding surface he was pressed against.

He curled tighter, his namesake tails instinctively wrapping around himself. The warmth was oppressive, yet strangely insulating. Feel. That was the overwhelming sense. Feeling the powerful, unconscious life of the hero who had, perhaps accidentally, swallowed him whole. Feeling the stomach walls contract lazily, a reminder of the slow, inevitable process beginning. Feeling a confusing mix of vulnerability and an odd, terrifying intimacy. He was inside Mario, utterly consumed, yet... held.

Mario feel moves. Each shift, each step the plumber took outside resonated within, a world within a world. Tails closed his eyes, lost in the dark, overwhelming feel of it all. Was this the end? Or just a very strange, very warm detour?