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benjaminthewolf · 10 months ago

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Internal Glow (Vore Story)

HAPPY VORE DAY!

I'm probably not coming back because I'm moving into my college dorms in a little over a week and then it's back to school. But I am here with you now to celebrate this special day!

I can't wait to see all your interpretations of this piece!

The feral, beastly winds of the winter sink a snap of icy fangs into the twitching fingers of your tiny body whilst you grasp, in rigid agony, the curved surface of the screw’s head. A surface caked wholly in a layer of snow and ice, searing the stinging burn of their bitter frigidity deep into the skin of your palm, and down your forearm.

Forcing an acceptance of the pain’s presence in order to wrench the frozen screw counterclockwise, you close your eyes and grunt whilst gathering your remaining energy into the tingling forearm. The screw makes a sort of metallic scraping sound as it grinds around within its socket.

Reality roars into both your numbed, solid ears, while flurries of snow-and-ice-packed winds surge onto your being from the left. As if intent on hauling you up and among them, carrying your defeated, spasming form to the drift it would settle to die.

You yank out the now sufficiently loosened screw, and drop it into the snow where it would meet with its three companions. The cover of the air duct clangs to the ground, the tunnel now open to you.

You’re instantly pushed by your instincts to shove your quivering body inside, causing the external screams of the wind to give way to the jolt of an internal, tightening warmth.

***

Cautiously sliding your hand sideways through the leftmost slit of this new air duct cover, which stood between you and the house’s interior, your still chilled, yet better dexterous fingers tap their tips onto the screw head. The final one to unscrew, no less. You extend your arm further past the cover, in order to firmly grasp the metallic hemisphere. Twisting your wrist counterclockwise, you can feel the screw rising out of place, before pulling it out the remainder of the way. Finally, the screw falls to the carpet, and you slide your arm and hand back through the slit.

This duct cover makes a far softer landing onto the dark purple shag carpet, before you enter at last into the room.

It appears to be space and alien themed, with a color palette of dark purple, black, and bright green. The blanket on the bed, and many posters on the walls, contain the classic symbol of an alien head: bright green, and guitar-pick shaped, with black, almond-shaped eyes.

You take a few steps forwards, pondering as to what, exactly, you’re going to do now.

*THWACK*

“Wh-ah-.....” the owner of the room stammers in sudden bewilderment, standing in front of the newly wide open door. You know he’s the owner, as the very same alien symbol is present on his black t-shirt.

As the stand-off continues, you take the opportunity to vehemently scrutinize the man’s appearance, as to add him to your records of the people you have encountered over the years.

A purple striped long-sleeved shirt lies underneath his black t-shirt, and he wears a pair of glasses with purple rims and red lenses. His skin is pure white, his teeth are sharp and jagged; and his upwards pointing, somewhat spiky, jet-black hair has hot pink dyed tips.

His yellow eyes with black sclera narrow in building rage.

Your body stands unable to respond.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?”

Your eyes dart around in their sockets, searching vigorously for a good place to hide. In doing so, you note the sign taped onto the now-visible front of the door, telling you that, whoever this man is, his name is, (or at least he calls himself), “MJ 182”.

“YOU…YOU! No. Nah. You know what?”

MJ 182’s abrupt drop in volume sends a jostle of terror through your nerves.

“GET’CH’YO ASS OVER HERE YOU PUNY LITTLE SHIT!”

And thus, your body chooses flight.

Jerking down onto all fours, your limbs propel you past MJ 182 and into the white carpeted hallway, following the sprinting motions of a wild mouse. Thrusting your arms outwards as your legs finish launching you forth, the slight amount of airtime you experience gives you the moments you need to haul your arms back towards your chest.

“HEY! GET BACK HERE!”

You sense MJ 182 calling out behind you before heavy, rushing footsteps pound out the door. With them progressively gaining volume as time continues, it then becomes apparent that running away is no longer an option.

Heaving your head upwards, your peripheral vision examines the states of the wooden doors on both sides of you. A slight crack in one door on the left lurches your attention to it, dragging your form behind as a result.

Skidding to a halt on the dark red striped carpet once hidden behind the door’s shape, you soon hear MJ 182 sprinting past. Thus, you spend a few seconds hunched over, hands on your knees, simply catching your breath. Until the door creaks open and a looming shadow shrouds your field of view.

Your body chooses freeze, and you find yourself unable to breathe. A pure white hand wraps its fingers around you to hoist you up off the floor. Your being gives a spasm as you brace to meet MJ 182’s furious, poignant face.

A face bearing a tender, sympathetic gaze meets your frail form instead.

“...who are you?” the face asks, with a smooth, soft, and gentle tone of voice.

“...why are you so cold?” it continues, with discernible rising concern.

The face bears a pair of round, pink glasses, and a large purple hat with two long strips of cloth at each side. Two yellow strings dangle at the end of each strip, and atop the hat are two yellow horns. A light blue stripe lies upon the hat’s brim, under which hangs strands of jet-black hair.

“Hey…I’m KC Glow.” The man eventually introduces himself. His other hand, retreated inside the long sleeve of his dark red striped hoodie-sweater which he wore backwards, rises up to give you a cautious stroke. “You were probably caught out in the winter storm…here, I’ll try to warm you up.”

With that, KC Glow begins blowing humid air onto you from his dark purple mouth, before his sweater-covered palm delicately rubs itself over your body. With each huff, the steamy mist sinks deeper into your skin, ensconcing you within its breadth.

A wavering exhale shivers out of your lungs, the tension in your muscles releasing.

“KC GLOW? DID YOU SEE ANYTHING ENTER YOUR ROOM?”

In the following moments, KC Glow’s instincts take over. With his eyes and sense of time both dilating in tandem, the palm that holds your being flies forwards, flinging you en route to his widened mouth. The instant a heavy weight lands on his tongue, his jaws click together.

Suddenly, you are consciously aware of your situation. Gazing silently upon the rough ridges on KC Glow’s hard palate, while sprawled out on your back in immobilizing shock, you eventually turn your head to the right. Resting it upon the heated, squishy, dark purple tongue, you start becoming more attentive to the natural heat within the fleshy chamber. A voice then calls from outside.

“KC GLOW?” MJ 182’s voice, lowered in both volume and intensity, repeats the man’s name. The door squeaks open as he enters the room.

“Uh…eauh…no…I didt ee aythin…” KC Glow stammers in response, doing his best to not move his tongue or open his lips significantly.

You press your back deep into the warm, pillowy muscle.

“...what?” MJ 182 responds with genuine confusion.

KC Glow’s jaws internally stretch as far as they can before his tongue swings to the right, dropping you into his right cheek. The slick, malleable pocket of dark purple muscle bulges outwards. KC Glow immediately attempts to suck in his cheek as close to his jaws as is comfortable for you.

“I said I didn’t see anything!”

You attempt to stand up as straight as possible in the curved pouch, your feet stabilizing you against KC Glow’s lower gum line.

MJ 182 raises an eyebrow just slightly. The sudden enlargement of the cheek hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. “Hey, what’s that in your cheek?”

“What?” KC Glow asks in palpable discomfort.

“Yeah, I saw that happen!” MJ 182’s voice raises in a subtle, accusatory tone. “What was that?”

“...........air.”

MJ 182’s eyebrows drop to his narrowed eyes. “Really, now?”

With MJ 182 making his suspicions very obvious, reality slugs you in the face. You won’t be able to hide in here for much longer. The second KC Glow’s mouth was pried opened, it would be all over, probably for the both of you.

Left with literally no other option, your eyes begin to shift towards KC Glow’s dark purple pharynx.

“Say aaaaah.”

Thus, it became your turn for time to dilate around you.

Crouching down and leaping through the gap between KC Glow’s jaws, your body rebounds upon the springy, sleek surface of the tongue. Swiveling around midair towards the back of KC Glow’s throat, the subsequent bounce launches your momentum forwards, resulting in a collision with the man’s bulbous, dangling, dark purple uvula. Gravity drags you to the ground near the root of the tongue, the uvula swinging frantically above you, where you’re able to gaze into KC Glow’s laryngopharynx below. The front of your face can just barely detect the short, heavy breaths heaving in and out the man’s lungs through his larynx. His vocal cords almost appear tightened from inability to respond to MJ 182.

Shoving your arms up underneath your chest, you push the weight of your being forwards, and watch as the epiglottis flops over the laryngeal inlet whilst the pharyngeal constrictor muscles slip you past the upper esophageal sphincter.

And then, everything was over.

“Come on, buddy. Open up. You don’t have anything to hide in there, do you?”

“No!”

“Then open up!”

That's when KC Glow became aware that you’re no longer inside his mouth. Yet, with his top priority at the moment being getting MJ 182 off his case, he opens it up. Any and all thoughts and emotions about this fact would have to wait until later.

MJ 182 shoves his face right up to the thing, to find… nothing. Eyes narrowing in instantaneous disbelief, he steps back to angle his view towards KC Glow’s left cheek pouch. Empty. Then his right cheek pouch. Empty as well.

“Push your tongue all the way out.” he orders.

KC Glow obliges.

Glaring zealously down at KC Glow’s pharynx, his tonsils, larynx, and epiglottis all on full display, MJ 182 spends twenty-three seconds strenuously examining the area. Only to come up empty, again.

Steadily pulling back his mellowed, yet flabbergasted face, he merely stands still for a few seconds, dumbfounded to his very core.

“Dang. I…guess I was wrong.”

Within the resulting silence, KC Glow detects something relatively large and bulky squelching its way down his esophagus.

“I uh…wow. Sorry about that, man.” MJ 182 continues. Realizing seconds later that KC Glow is still in shock from the whole situation, he turns towards the door, instead of waiting for a response. “I’m just gonna leave you alone now.” he concludes before turning the doorknob, walking out, and closing the door behind him.

Halfway down KC Glow’s esophagus, you realize you are finally safe.

Your body huffs out a shudder whilst the esophageal muscles behind you contract. The muscles in front of you simultaneously relax, squeezing you further down towards KC Glow’s stomach.

And yet, that fact doesn’t scare you at all.

Why would it?

KC Glow on the outside, meanwhile, finally processes the situation.

“Uh………are you ok in there?” he pulls himself together sufficiently enough to ask.

It’s a little difficult to hear him since you’ve slipped into his chest region by now, causing his heart rate to boom through your form, but you nonetheless attempt to assure him that you feel perfectly safe at the moment.

“Great! Should I get you out now?” There is a rising undertone of panic present in his voice.

In an effort to quench this panic, you assure KC Glow with full confidence that you’re going to be perfectly fine.

The instant your words hit KC Glow’s brain, he jostles in a horrified stun, his brain crackling and staggering in error as it fails to process your words. His nervous system frazzles with confusion and uncertainty. Instinct, intuition, and rationality all come to the same consensus. He inhales a labored breath in an attempt to say something about the danger you’re in, semi-voluntarily lifting a finger as he does. Only to realize after that he has absolutely no idea what to say. Or how to say it.

Deep inside KC Glow’s dark purple esophagus, a subtle grin of comfort forms on your face as you soak in the tactile sensation of the cushiony esophageal walls which squeeze in against your being before releasing. The rhythmic squelching presses the walls’ natural heat and glossy texture against your skin. Though of course, you know it’s only a matter of time before the esophagus would drop you to your ultimate destination.

A deep, echoey gurgle releases somewhere below you, and you give a nod of acknowledgment that that time is soon approaching.

KC Glow, meanwhile, remains locked in incapacity to wrap his head around your current behavior. Your profound, unwavering confidence in your safety. Any possible logic, any possible interpretation, anything that would make it all make sense. He simply can’t find it.

“But…how?! How are you so sure you’ll be ok?!” he eventually yelps out, the tension and worry even stronger in his voice. He sits himself down upon the edge of his light red blanketed bed, just in case his sense of balance fails him.

You almost feel sorry that KC Glow doesn’t know. But you know. You always know. Unable to provide him the full answer, you simply insist he trust you on this.

KC Glow senses a twinge in his heart. For a while, the muscle beats at allegro. His vocal cords quiver with well foreseen inarticulacy. What to do in this situation is something entirely lost to him.

Eventually, however, he resigns himself to silence as he scoots himself into the wall which his bed lies against. He places a sweater-covered hand over his abdominal region, and braces himself for the worst. His heart settles back to moderato.

Grounded upon this slow, steady tempo, the low-tone stomach below provides a rumbling melody. Improvised solos of growls and gurgles periodically interject. Occasionally, a high-pitched note is reached, before the peak gives way to the valley once more.

At last, the lower esophageal sphincter enters your view. The instant your head is squeezed out, you can see that KC Glow’s stomach walls, like the rest of his digestive system, are colored dark purple. Finally, the rest of your body slips beyond the esophagus, and you plunge into the juices below.

KC Glow convulses as he senses the resulting splash. His stomach begins sloshing and churning more actively, and gives an audible growl from the outside.

“I-” KC Glow’s eyes begin to well up as the reality of the situation fully kicks in. “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! ARE YOU ALIVE?” tears begin to stream down his cheeks as the prospect of receiving no answer ruthlessly overwhelms his mind and senses.

“Yeah I’m alive!” you respond.

Why wouldn’t you be?

Standing within the pool of harmless stomach juices, you begin to wade your way over to the stomach walls.

“B-But aren’t you questioning why the liquids aren’t digesting you? ‘Cause I am! Why is it not digesting you? How-how is this working? WHY? HOW?” KC Glow cries with a strained, shaky voice.

Sealed within KC Glow’s stomach, you are only able to shrug your shoulders.

You knew how it worked. You just never questioned why it worked. Why would you question it? What would the point even be?

You tell KC Glow that there’s no point in questioning it, as you lie yourself down against the squishy, cushiony walls.

“.....so you’re going to be ok?” a wholly defeated KC Glow squeaks out.

Snuggling up against the goopy, churning walls of his stomach, you assure KC Glow that you’re both perfectly fine, and extremely comfortable.

You nuzzle your head into the warm, pillowy, shifting smooth muscles, before rubbing them over with your hands, hoping this will help him calm down.

“...I don’t understand how you can just…accept it. Even if you don’t get hurt.” KC Glow speaks up again. “Don’t you want to know why, and how this is happening? This goes against…everything we know, and you act like it’s completely normal! Like everyone knows that, how, and why this works! You should be getting scientists to do a case study on you! You could be famous! You could take partial credit for any scientific advances that happen from the scientific community understanding what’s happening right now!”

With the gurgles echoing around your ears, and the stomach’s internal heat ensconcing your skin, you attempt to dissapear into the surrounding ambiance.

“I was terrified for your life, and you acted like you expected me to act the same as you! Don’t you understand how-” KC Glow’s speech halts.

“No…no…that’s enough from me. That’s more than enough.” you can sense deep regret in his voice.

“Please forget I said anything at all! You just wanted to get comfortable after getting through a life-or-death situation, and now I’m just…” a silent, steady flow of tears trickles from KC Glow’s tear ducts and onto the body of his sweater over his abdominal region. He places his two sweater-sleeve covered hands on top of the area.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry!” he sobs audibly before his head falls straight into his chest. “This wasn’t supposed to happen! It wasn’t supposed to be like this!”

Sinking deeper into KC Glow’s rumbling, cushiony stomach walls, you ponder what you could possibly say to make the poor man feel better.

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benjaminthewolf · 2 years ago

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Garcello Gives You Snuggles (Remastered)

The difference between this and the original is night and day, and I couldn't be more happier at my improvement.

****

The only two things your ears are able to detect in the present moment are both the ragged, labored, desperate huffing of your oxygen-depleted, withered lungs, as well as the overheating, cramping, constant, pounding of your poor, throbbing, shriveled little heart, as your all but entirely numbed feet continue aimlessly striking their force against the concrete of the filthy city sidewalk right below. With a form so utterly miniscule against the relatively gigantic world all around you, there could be no better display of cruel irony as to just how, exactly, your emotions had engulfed your being. Especially in the dead of night.

Vigorously forcing your body as such to do whatever it physically could to hold back your sight-submerging, stinging flood of minuscule tears, if for no other reason than your lungs’ momentary inability to handle the inevitably resulting gasping and wheezing, you were now all but rendered physically unable to continue in any direction but forwards, for the energy required to overcome your present inertia in said direction would prove simply far too much for your body to actually handle. Still, you carried on with your sprinting.

And then, just like that, your form was struck with the oxymoronic comforting shock from an equally as oxymoronic mysterious, yet familiar, teal glow. It didn’t matter in the slightest that you couldn’t detect rigid shapes for the moment, as all the information you already had was undeniably more than enough for you to piece together what was happening.

Your being instinctively swivels its current momentum, the wavering sparks of what could barely be described as hope for anything making use of its natural inertia to practically fling your poor form into the alleyway. Ignoring in its entirety the consequential pain of skidding against the rough asphalt seconds later, you instantly force your head up in order to confirm with absolute certainty your past assumptions about the teal glow.

Low and behold, there he is, and quite thankfully for your horridly gagging, strained lungs, you are not even forced to call his name in order to get his attention.

“Woah! Hey there, little one! I….didn’t know you were there!” the ethereal, wispy ghost form of the man only known as Garcello gently addresses your battered, jittering, scraped-up being whilst simultaneously attempting to carefully scoop it all up in his hands. As he does this, the one, single, little thing you can get your quavering self to do now is just cry. Now that your body didn’t have to focus on running, it could instead redirect all that energy to what it had previously held back for so long, and for that exact reason as well.

“Awww…. Hey now, hey now, it's perfectly okay for you to cry. I have absolutely no idea what’s happened to you, but you gotta be able to trust me when I say that whatever you experienced back there, it cannot hurt you right now. And that means it's safe to let it out.” Garcello softly explains to your torrentally sobbing, trembling being as he tenderly snuggles you against his dark teal abdomen.

You absolutely didn’t need to be told to keep crying to keep crying. Nonetheless, in essentially instant response to the tender, sympathetic, soothing words of the ghost, you promptly bury your face in his t-shirt and immediately unleash the, somehow, now even harsher flow of your tears into the soft, ghostly, thin, silky fabric. Garcello says absolutely nothing as you only continue to bawl. Neither of you had even the slightest clue as to just how long this scene lasted. Yet, upon your fierce wailing giving way to pained sniffling, Garcello still doesn’t dare to break the silence.

Eventually, however, you do remove your face from his abdomen. And that was when the words began to come. It wasn’t an elegant, nor a succinct explanation by any stretch of the imagination, but you couldn’t care less about that. All that you cared about was that someone was legitimately taking the time to let you incessantly ramble on about what exactly had happened to you, and was actually paying attention with intent of helping you recover from the experiences you’d revealed after the fact. Once again, the time it took for you to finish your rabid release could’ve been anywhere from five minutes to half an hour, neither of you had any way to know with any certainty. And, once again, Garcello remains completely and utterly silent as you just continue to rave about…well, pretty much everything you needed to rave about. It wasn’t until he was absolutely, positively sure you were finished that he finally took in a breath to start talking.

“First of all, I just want to say that you are very brave for telling me this. Ultimately, the only way that you can get proper help is to talk to someone about what you’ve gone through. And I guarantee you, there ARE people out there who can help. …professionally I mean. Ya know, like licensed therapists, and…obviously I’m not one of those, so… But yes, talking about all this is a very big step. I can see you’re already jittering a whole lot less because of it. Just letting out all your emotions verbally can be a huge factor in regaining control in these kinds of situations.”

Garcello takes a moment to pause as you continue your exhausted heaving.

“For right now, you just need to keep breathing. I don’t want to overwhelm you any further by diving into the nuance of what you’ve told me. Just breathe in and out. That’s it. I’ve got ahold of you. Nothing can hurt you right now. You’re safe.”

Your positively drained, depleted being proceeds to tremble only slightly as it softly wells up with more tears. A far less violent flow begins to stream its way out of your eyes as you once again bury yourself inside Garcello’s abdomen. The squishy, comfortable, warm flesh seems to somewhat wrap itself up around your being as you lean into it, whilst the places it couldn’t reach, such as your back, are gently caressed by the ghost’s delicate fingers. And that’s when you started to hear it.

The low-pitched, subtle grumbles tucked away behind many layers of ghostly flesh immediately grab your attention whilst the gears inside your head begin turning. Garcello is slightly confused at first, but upon you turning your head to the side just a little, in order to squish it into his midsection, he begins to understand your thought process as well.

“Do you…do you wanna go in there?” he eventually manages to ask.

All you would give in response was a vigorous flurry of nods, prompting the ghostly teal man to let out a short, friendly chuckle.

“Well, it is nice and warm in there! Makes a great resting spot I suppose!” he affirmingly speaks with a smile, whilst raising you up towards his face. “...and let’s be honest, you really need a good rest after all this…so yeah! You can stay in there for a while!”

You are now inches from the ghost’s mouth, waiting patiently for the reveal.

“...just let me know if my smoker breath is still there…I wouldn’t want ya to have to suffer from that because of me…” Garcello hesitantly requests as a great twinge begins to form across his face.

You briefly reassure Garcello that if he did still have smoker breath, you would’ve definitely picked it up by now. And since you smelled none, that meant it was certainly gone.

Garcello simply blushes just slightly in response, before swiftly thanking you for the reassurance. Now, there was only one more thing he had to do. And so, the unveiling commenced seconds later.

The mint blue colored chamber starts to flow upon your body its natural, soothing, calm, inviting warmth, something which eagerly prompts you to start crawling all the way past Garcello’s lips, and therefore have the comfort douse over the whole of your being.

Over his incisor teeth you went, as a result, before you finally squished a single palm down into the smooth, slickened form of his tongue. Eagerly, yet carefully, hauling the rest of your body onto the muscle soon after, you almost instantly collapse down upon its soft, warm, pillowy surface, before nuzzling your cheek deep into it, in order to show your deep gratitude unto the teal man outside.

Once the ghostly owner of the tongue is absolutely certain it was safe to close his maw, he slowly brings his lips together, thus sealing you out from the cold, whilst his jaws lying past them parted just about as far as they could. This was because Garcello knew that you were far too exhausted by now to make your way towards his open, tight, and squishy gullet. Because of this, he needed to elicit the aid of good ol’ gravity in order to get you down to his gut.

You are soon able to sense the ghost’s tongue lifting up rather slowly and gingerly. You therefore give the muscle a slight pat to let him know you’re okay before it starts to slope down, and towards Garcello’s now gaping laryngopharynx.

The plump, rounded form of his uvula gently sways back and forth above the drop whilst you start to slide down the slick tongue. Gradually slipping downwards and towards Garcello’s ghostly throat, it isn’t very long before your form becomes lodged nice and tightly against his tonsils, whilst you start to gaze down into his trachea. Garcello’s slightly wavering vocal cords are then naturally covered up by the epiglottis as you are promptly squeezed into his esophagus. It takes one more gulp before your lower legs and feet slip all the way through the upper esophageal sphincter, but once this is accomplished at last, Garcello heaves out a slight sigh, before placing a couple fingers over the slight bulge in his throat. Now, his ghostly body would handle the rest.

Casually floating over and towards the side of the alleyway as a result, Garcello sets himself down rather cautiously, not wanting the force of the motion to disturb your own journey within, before curling his ghost tail over his middle. Accompanying his ghost tail with both hands before the slight bulge in his throat disappears behind his collarbone, Garcello thus gives a slight smile. You on the inside were soon to pick up a soft heartbeat, and when you did, you would know you were close.

Back on the inside, meanwhile, the warm, squishy squelchings of peristalsis from the throat muscles are able to massage your poor body as they continue to escort you on down. Sure enough, however, you did indeed pick up rather soon an ethereal, ghostly replication of a heartbeat, though the fact of it not being from a living source did little to make a meaningful difference. The wondrous, continual kneading pushes you deeper and deeper towards Garcello’s stomach as the heartbeat pounds gently within the ambient background of the ghost’s internal body.

Eventually though, there was to be far more joining along with the baseline beat of the heart as both high-pitched and low-pitched gurgles and grumbles begin to echo about the awaiting chamber just below. With the lower esophageal sphincter coming into your sight seconds later, you are gently squelched out from the natural valve head-first, before at last, the rest of your body follows through, and you take the deep plunge down below.

Promptly rising up from the harmless liquids sloshing around within Garcello’s warm, churning stomach, touching your feet down upon the very bottom of the shallow pool as you did, you then proceed to give a rather visceral full-body shake in utterly cathartic release of pent-up tension. And then, immediately after, in use of ol’ reliable once more, your utterly exhausted being flops directly onto the pillowy walls as your eyelids droop down and close your eyes.

Garcello on the outside is able to feel all this happening within his gut, and yet, decides not to interrupt you for the moment, as you did need to rest rather desperately. Slowly rubbing his hands all over his middle for a while, Garcello can sense you shifting around just a little deep within, presumably so you could find a more suitable sleeping position. For you down below within the walls, it wouldn’t take very long for you to fully accomplish this task.

Heaving out a gigantic yawn, you subtly nuzzle your head into the squishy, cushiony, heated form of the stomach walls as the gently sloshing liquids around you calmly envelop the lower half of your being. Slipping deeper and deeper into unconsciousness as the soft gut’s natural heat drags you further and further into comfort, the very last thing you could sense before finally falling asleep was, indeed, the constant white noise all around you. The gurgling, growling, and groaning of the stomach of the ghost who had saved you tonight.

Garcello on the outside only lets out a soft sigh of contentment as he senses you settling down against the squishy walls of his stomach.

“Goodnight, little one…” he whispers very quietly, as he himself begins closing his eyes very slowly. It would not be very long then, before the both of you were softly slumbering away in silent peace; both of Garcello’s hands against his rumbling stomach housing your tiny form deep within.

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