This is a lovely comic  DragonCZ drew for a story of mine, which you can read below.
I absolutely adore how well it turned out and still seek for ways to write a little more for him. On his request the story has less digestion than my usual work, so it ended up a tad short. But still, enjoy reading how Swampy makes his collar bell ring by means of a tasty dog

Dog, meet swamp puppy
(soft vore, digestion)

Swampy was lazily on the murky river, drifting away from his owner’s hut in the woods. He was glad that the chicken wire pen he was kept in had been open towards the river for some time now and he has proven that he will always come back from his little excursions. Billy trusted him and the alligator had no reason to ruin this by running off for good. After all staying with Billy, especially when the burly man clipped a leash to his elastic bell collar, meant he was being taken to the nearby town to rid the streets of stray cats and dogs and the odd raccoon or coyote. Officially Swampy was a municipal worker in the animal control department and while he had learned the hard way that he was not welcome in the settlement unattended, things were quite different when Billy was wearing his uniform and lead him through the streets to crawl between trash cans and under trucks to dispose of any unwanted strays the way nature intended an alligator to do so. In short, the gator was currently just out enjoying the cooling water on a scorching summer day, hoping to cross paths with a nice catfish or inhale a few ducks that failed to notice him in time.
With his arms and legs spread out, Swampy was casually drifting from the Bayou towards the town, just the tip of his snout and his eyes above the greenish water, when he noticed a sound. There was some repeated splashing not too far from where he was and this was what made him turn towards shore. The river was broad in this section and his mind had been on fish until now, but that changed when his yellow locked onto a light coloured labrador retriever drinking from the river. As he stealthily swam towards the roughly thirty to forty kilos of canine meat, Swampy’s brain went to work. What was he looking at? Some dog. Is it food? Obviously. Can he kill it? If he can catch it. Can he catch it? If he remains unnoticed. Can he swallow it whole? Potentially. Depends on the angle. He had eaten bigger ones whole and alive before but also had been forced to mangle smaller ones in the past. But he had been smaller then.

He kept his eyes trained on the distinctly edible canine and drifted closer to it bit by bit. His camouflage was near perfect, his dark grey scales mostly hidden under the green water. Towards the shore little water plants and algae made him nearly invisible. Eventually his hind legs touched the muddy ground and he prepared his attack. With a push of his legs and his tail, Swampy broke cover, propelling himself towards the clueless dog. All his prey would see was a big pink chute framed with long yellow teeth launching towards its head. Swampy only saw the sky for a moment with his maw agape, but soon he felt the very familiar rewarding impact of firm canine meat. There were tensing muscles and the softer neck. His upper teeth were pressing in on his lunch’s shoulder, preventing it from making any use of its strong legs. The dog’s head was sideways in his maw now, its jaws rendered useless, one eye forced to look at the free world the dog was being torn away from, the other levelled with the hungry alligator throat where it was headed.

Swampy was successful. He and the dog both knew it was going to become a quarter inch of tail fat really soon. The labrador whined, trapped as it was, but to the alligator the weak defeated sound was like an invitation to eat it. Not that he needed one. Stepping into the surf, Swampy planted his belly on the ground and pushed up his chest with his stretched out front legs. With a casual ease that betrayed his experience with stray dogs, he pulled up and twisted his jaws, causing the belly on his collar to jingle merrily. Snapping his maw again allowed the dog to land halfway inside, perfectly coaxial to the woefully empty throat. From there it only took a well lifted snout and a few easy throws of his head and the residual water, wet fur and gravity cooperated to force the dog through his soft, gaping throat flap. The scales on his upper neck spread apart and his collar widened as his throat pouch was getting filled with very alive and unwilling canine meat. As the dog’s squirming hips still laid in his maw, the head and shoulders were already slipping into his second length of gullet. From the outside it looked like the squirming bulge under his chin getting emptied into his bulky frame. A few more contractions from his throat and the dog was entirely gone. No one but the sun and some gulls were there to see it, but Swampy’s maw was once more devoid of all life before it closed to conclude his meal.
The dog was a quite large one and it took Swampy a moment and some work to work it all the way down. The sensation of having such a heavy and nicely warm blooded animal slip into his stomach was very rewarding. A series of belch like sounds escaped his throat as the dog was forced into his stomach with repeated swallows, forcing some air to escape back up. Eventually though the canine was curled up into a nice ball of weakly struggling, soon to be unlocked nutrition. The mammal’s body heat, which was intended to speed up its metabolism and brain activity, was now working to help the strong acids drooling from Swampy’s stomach walls to break it down. As all crocodilians, Swampy was purpose built to take in huge meals and break them down fast in irregular intervals. One of these adaptions was the use of gastroliths, usually pebbles he had swallowed on instinct which were helping the alligator to break down his meals. But unlike his entirely feral brethren, this semi domesticated gator has another source of gastroliths: dog tags. Some of the animals he ate were really just runaway pets and while his owner and his employers always downplayed the collateral damage his appetite incurred, Swampy readily saw any unattended suitably sized animal as food. As a result there were a few brass tags floating around his stomach which had already helped him digest numerous cats and dogs. And now they were helping him with his next prey, destined to scrape off sloppy meat as soon as the acids had softened the dog up enough.

With his belly well filled, Swampy headed back towards his home. While it felt inviting to beach himself on shore and keep his tail in the water for temperature regulation, he always felt most comfortable sleeping in the safety of his own pen where the trees above provided various degrees of shade, depending where he parked his bulky frame. That and he really liked the belly rubs his owner gave him frequently.
So the alligator swam back into the river, this time having to go up stream. He stayed close to shore where the current was noticeably slower and undulated his tail in lazy curves to steadily drift towards his destination. While he was doing that, his bloated stomach was eagerly macerating the very unhappy dog. His prey tried to fight back but there was nothing to be done. A thirty kilo dog encased in an easily ten times heavier alligator’s stomach could only do so much. Most noticeably the labrador caused a respectable droop in Swampy’s midsection to protrude into the river. From above water no one would be able to tell the alligator was indeed very well fed.

After a few minutes, the dog was growing still, succumbing to the lack of air inside the tight stomach. Swampy let out a small belch to get rid of the air which used to be trapped in the dog’s lungs, feeling even more comfortable after his little burp. The weight in his midsection felt highly rewarding and he actually welcomed the slightly increased water resistance caused by his drooping stomach since it was a mark of his success. As he swam along, his eye fell on a few kids standing at the shore, skipping stones over the water.
“Look, a swamp puppy!” said one of them.
“That puppy could probably eat you whole.” replied the larger one quite correctly.
“I saw someone boop their snoot on the internet. They are not that dangerous.” the kid said and tossed a stone in Swampy’s direction.
“Because the ones that got unlucky don’t have any fingers left to post stupid shit on the internet, you idiot. If you hit the gator I’ll toss you in there and see if he’s hungry.”
Swampy was not, but the little boy swiftly reassessed his position on the potential dangers of jaws more than half as long as he was.

It had taken swampy half an hour to drift to the spot where he had fed on the stray dog but more than two hours of continuous swimming to get back home. But finally he pulled himself on the muddy riverbank where his enclosure started. There was a kind of canal by now, eroded into the soil by his frequent journeys. As he waddled deeper inland, his full belly occasionally dragged on the ground, until he found a nice half sunny patch to flop down on and sleep. His stomach was now spilling out to both side, quickly softening dog causing a sense of firmness inside his belly, but as he wiggled something broke and rearranged itself inside his stomach to let him rest more comfortably. He looked around, over the various bleached plastic collars adorning the chicken wire fence that kept him in more by symbolic than mechanical virtues and he was about to close his eyes when he saw his owner stepping down from his porch.
He turned his head and looked at Billy with both eyes. The smiling man went through a door in the fence and crouched down next to him, giving his girthy neck some hearty pats.
“There you are big guy. Did you terrorise the river again? Looks like you were greedy today. Be sure to digest whatever that is quickly, we have work tomorrow.” he said. Swampy let out a friendly growl in greeting and soon he was getting those belly rubs he had been looking forward to. The slightly worn feeling in his swimming muscles was quickly forgotten as experienced hands kneaded the sides of his stomach and helped the bulge in his stomach to slowly shrink as its liquefied contents drained into his intestines. He would not be done digesting the dog by tomorrow, but there would be plenty of space for three or four cats or the odd runaway handbag dog.

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