You are a mouse. Your life has always been one of caution and fear. Scurrying from house to house in search of crumbs. Dodging the hungry gaze of predators and the stomping paws of unaware giants. It’s a rough life, but it is yours, or was yours, you guess. You found yourself today having made a mistake that cost you your freedom. A simple pantry raid without checking what kind of giant owned the place. Now you find yourself staring at the smiling face of a female cheetah.

“Well, hello there, my little mouse.”

She coos, her voice surprisingly soft and silk-like for something that could execute you with a single bite.

“You look pretty smart, so I assume you realize you won’t be able to outrun me, but that is okay; I don’t plan on eating you…”

Can this be you, do you think? The feline doesn’t want to devour you; you just hit the jackpot!

“No no, I want you to feed yourself to me like a good mouse… willingly, as an ingredient.”

Your heart sinks, willingly? Ingredient? Is this cat mad?

“Till then you get to know the body you will be adding to eventually.”

Without warning, the Chee snatches you up in her paw, leathery pads wrapping around your body as she removes you from her cupboard like any other food item.

Wiggling in her grasp, you try to break free as she brings you to her bed and places you at the height of the belly. The large tan expanse stretches out before you, a taut tummy designed to turn you from mouse to meal.

“Do you like what you see, little one? You will soon be part of all this pretty.”

The cheetah rubs her belly as it gives a small growl of hunger, a growl that beckons for you to join it. You look behind you and see a drop you don’t know if you want to risk; you look in front of you and see that stomach.

“Don’t be afraid to touch it; it is going to be your new home eventually.”

You shiver at the thought; this belly will end you, and according to the cheetah, you will be the one who asks it to. Suddenly a paw gives you a small push toward the stomach. You are still nervous she will decide to eat you if you don’t comply, so you tentatively place a paw on the taut stomach, the fur under your paw bristling and shuddering, another deep glork echoing out from just beyond all that fur, muscle, and fat.

The belly of the cheetah is flat, yet you can tell it has handled many of your kind already. And yet… it is so soft to the touch. If it wasn’t attached to a machine that turned people your size into more spots, you could see yourself resting upon it. In fact, without thinking, you do rest your tired head against it as your ear and muzzle go flush against it. A purring drone along with the heartbeat and warmth welcomes you. In your relaxed state, you must admit this feline does have a lovely quality to her; if she were your size, you would probably ask her to dinner… At dinner, you are reminded that she wants you to be her dinner, or maybe lunch. You don’t really know when she expects you to give yourself to her, but you know that she does expect that you will be the one to do it.

Before you know it, the beating of her heart and even those unsettling internal stomach noises have lulled you to sleep. The cheetah seems to have moved you to a table, as you are now lying on a wooden expanse as you stir.

“It’s dinner time, cutie~”

You awaken with a start at those words as you stare at her… the lying feline. She is going to eat you after all; you knew it, you…

“Don’t look so scared; you are going to watch me eat my meal… then hopefully you’ll serve yourself up as my dessert.”

With that, you are set on a tall table as the cheetah goes to retrieve her snack from the fridge. She comes back with an assortment of sushi rolls, smelling like tuna and crab. She sets the rolls in front of you as she grabs her chopsticks.

“A shame you are not quite willing yet; you would have made lovely sushi, my little murine ingredient.”

With that, she grabs a piece of sushi and brings it to her mouth. You watch the cavernous jaws open wide before you, offering you a glimpse inside. You see the saliva cascading down from the hard palate to the tongue. Strands forming and snapping as those jaws expand to take in the sushi. The cat sets the piece upon her tongue before drawing it in and starting to chew, a soft purr emitting as the flavors cascade onto her tongue. You wonder if you will make her purr when she tastes you… no, wait, no, you’re not food… and yet, why do you find yourself so entranced by her display?

You find yourself watching those cheeks puff up and then suddenly dip in as she delicately tilts her head back and swallows, the chewed-up fishy mess forming a small bulge that disappears into her chest beneath her collar, leaving no trace of its existence behind. You find your thoughts keep going back to her; she is so… so perfect. And she chose you to be her meal… hers. As she finishes her sushi, she notices your eyes have been transfixed on her for the past several minutes.

“I think it’s time for dessert, don’t you, mousie? Let’s get you ready then.”

You climb into the bowl that she sets on the table as the cheetah grabs her favorite ice cream from the freezer. Soon you find yourself shivering as the cat scoops in the frozen treat. You wonder if you really want this. But as she licks her lips, you remember that you do; you want to join the pretty that is her.

Soon, you find yourself laid between 2 large scoops of hazelnut ice cream that matches your fur and drizzles of chocolate added to you as if stripping your very fur. Your tiny ears pick up a low guttural groan, the cheetah’s stomach calling out to you; it’s probably pictured this moment from the second those golden eyes first settled upon you. Now you lie between those mounds of frozen dairy, a freezing, scrumptious treat.

“Are you cold, dear? Let me help.”

She brings her muzzle down so all you can see is her tan snout and black lips before they part. Hot wafting breath and dripping drool strands greet you. You do feel warmer, and you even notice that you are not the only thing melting as your limbs sink into the warming domes. With a loud teasing snap, she closes her mouth back up, teeth clacking like ivory gates.

“Don’t want you and the ice cream to melt into a soup on me now… well, not till you’re both inside of me.”

She chides as she sits back and grabs the spoon, digging it into one of the scoops. You watch as she moves the spoon to her opening mouth. You watch as she slowly inserts that creamy treat into her muzzle and closes her lips around the spoon before pulling it out empty. She would savor the mouthful for a moment before swallowing it down, a lump forming in her throat before disappearing behind her collar. Just like you will soon enough.

Soon the mounds of frozen dairy are mostly gone. To your surprise, the cheetah puts away the spoon and grabs her chopsticks again; she expertly works them between your sides so they are holding you up by your armpits as she raises you to her mouth.

“Thank you for being such a good little mousie; I hope you enjoy your trip as much as I do your sacrifice.”

With that, those thin black lips part. You are greeted with a full view into that yawning pink abyss and blasted with the scents of ice cream, sushi, and a hit of fellow rodents. The smell is quite strong. However, you can’t look away. Instead, you look straight ahead into the maw in front of you, watching those strands of drool snap as she opens wider and wider. Beyond those drool strands, past that expanse of a tongue, lies the hungry pink flexing void of the throat. Suddenly the tongue expands out and under you. Waiting and undulating.

Without any more words, you find yourself lowered upon the tongue as it dips and cups around you, pulling you inside of the mouth, leaving your feet and tail outside as she closes her mouth. Next thing you knew, you were being swished from cheek to cheek, playfully nibbled on, and wrapped up in tongue and saliva. The drool coats your body and lubricates it for its journey downwards. Before you can react, you find yourself in the center of the tongue as it lifts you up against the hard palate before rolling you over the back and into the throat. Your feet and tail are slurped into her mouth as your face is plunged into that tight, hot gullet.

You hardly notice the tickling feeling on your feet as the rings of muscle grab you and start to tug you deeper into the cat, her purrs and heartbeat filling your saliva-coated ears as her peristalsis pulls you deeper into her depths. The heat builds the deeper you go. Soon you are pressed to the cardia, having to hold your breath for a few seconds before the pressure builds up enough to push you through, dumping you and the saliva into the center of the cheetah’s fish- and ice cream-filled guts.

Suddenly it hits you. This is a stomach; the air is foul and strong, the heat is sweltering, and the beauty of the cheetah was replaced with biological efficiency. You wade through melted ice cream, drool, and slime. Past boluses of fish, crab, and rice. Eventually you reach the churning wreckage of the stomach, resting against walls as you try to catch your breath in the thin air. You listen to the loud groans and pops of the churning stomach as you lie against the wall and start to think about if this is what you really wanted.