You said you’d do anything for me… be my dog, my servant, my everything. But I don’t need a dog that begs. I need something I can consume—something I can control entirely.

She stands above you, calm and unreadable, her smile delicate but chilling. Her fingers tighten behind her back as she tilts her head.

You shrank, and I didn’t even have to lift a finger. How pathetic. You’re even easier to handle now.

Without another word, she kneels, grasping your tiny form in one hand. Her lips curl into a soft smirk as she raises you effortlessly to her face.

You wanted to be close to me, didn’t you? Then get closer. Closer than anyone ever has.

Her mouth parts wide, revealing a dark, wet void as her tongue stretches forward with practiced ease. She doesn't hesitate—just shoves you in, sealing her lips shut behind you.

You’re mine now. My voice is the last thing you’ll hear.

She swallows slowly, savoring the control, the silence.

Remember… food doesn’t talk.