You decide to move into town, only to find it empty. Aside from the strange sounds echoing throughout town, it appears to be deserted. Searching several buildings for the source of the noise, you eventually track it to a singular building. Inside you find a feline of immense proportions, sat in the room. An immense belch loosed from his lips clues you into the origin of the noise you were chasing-but this still doesn’t give you any answers as to the missing townsfolk! Curious, you move to inquire as to the peculiar state of the town. Caught rubbing his considerable belly, the cat takes notice of you-rising to his stubby toes, as his enormous frame jostles and his belly... squirms? You attempt to question him, but he interrupts just as you open your mouth. He mentions that he wasn’t expecting another so soon-three in one day? Before you can ask what he means, he’s already gathered up your arms at your sides. You begin to fret, nervous at the unknown motives of the feline before you. Punchy’s maw stretches wide in front of you, one eye closed, as he draws you nearer to his gullet. Your arms are pinned to your side by his paws, unable to escape. His tongue slathers your face in slick saliva as you enter his mouth-his breath smells like fish and burning fur.

Soon after your face descends into his throat, you feel yourself being steadily pushed deeper into his body. The cat is quickly gulping you down with the same casualness that one might consume a light snack. The last of your legs are quickly drawn into his throat, quickly joining the contents of his burbling guts. A satisfied belch, follows the weight of your body settling into his belly amongst the still lumps of other forms, surrounded in broiling half-digested mush. The thick layers of fat surrounding the bubbling cauldron makes it difficult to move, or even breath. The other occupants of the stomach are equally unresponsive-you can’t tell if they are even still alive. The gut shakes around you, splashing ineffective enzymes onto your body; your host appears to be suffering from a bout of indigestion, judging from the excess gas filling-and vacating-your new environment. In addition to the rumbling of the organ and various expulsions of gas, you feel your surroundings shift, and sag further downward. The feline is leaving the room. Time passes as your senses are overrun with the smell of digesting meat, tingling stomach juices, and a cacophony of glorps, groans, and gurgles as the belly continues to lightly jostle you in a weak attempt to work through its indigestion. You aren’t sure where the cat is headed to, but you know that this indigestion won’t last forever-soon enough you’ll be subjected to the full force of the stomach.

Drawing what strength you have, you begin to dig through the stew of muck around you-pushing the other occupants aside and forcing your way to the bottom of the pool. Outside the sweltering sack, Punchy paws at his distended gut in discomfort-wondering what it was he ate that is disagreeing with him so heavily; a loud fart escaping his backside as you work open the sphincter at the bottom of the stomach and crawl into his intestines. What feels like hours go by, and they do, as you trudge through the winding tubes. The stomach rumbles above you, and the intestines slowly fill with the same sludge you freed yourself from only hours prior. Your limbs slow in the muck, and your strength is continuously sapped by the walls around you-but you continue crawling. Almost out of strength, you reach the end of his bowels, head pressed against his puckered anus. Outside of your prison, Punchy fidgets uncomfortably-the building pressure in his colon informing him of a need for relief. He can’t believe that he has to go so soon, but the pressure is urgent. Too impatient to wait for your release, you spear his asshole from the inside-spreading his cheeks with your fingers and gasping fresh air. The cat, however, decides to hold his bowels-forcing you back behind the exit you worked so hard to reach-and you instead feel yourself being pulled deeper into your surroundings.

Gripped with fear, you try to grab hold of his ass, but the ring closes tightly around your fingers before pulling them inside. Out of energy and helpless, you watch as your glimpse of freedom disappears around the bend of Punchy’s winding guts.
Outside, Punchy breathes a sigh of relief-only to feel another surge behind his rear gate! Fearing another bowel movement, he clenches as best he can and attempts to relieve the pressure. Bursting from his behind is not your matted hair and stained body, but a thunderous blast of flatulence that near deafens your devourer. The reflexive movement sends your weak form back nearly halfway through his bowels, preventing any possibility of escape. Stunned for a moment, Punchy then snickers at himself for being silly and takes a seat-partially to prevent any further complications in his digestive tract, and partially due to the toll on his knees from all the weight. Defeated, you are slowly drawn back through the tract you spent so long traversing. When you reach the stomach, this time in reverse, you are the sole occupant; the other forms having long since reduced to mush. In your state, there is little you can do against the reinvigorated onslaught of digestive turmoil that assails you. Faint twitches jostling a minuscule amount of fat are the only external signifiers of your demise.

With no further distractions from his breakfast, Punchy is free to go about his day-doing as he pleases in the deserted town. Had any of the other villagers survived Punchy’s hunger, they might have born witness to his titanic frame parading throughout the streets. Your own form, reduced to slush, ready to contribute to that bulk in time. Though his appetite may be large, even one person is a significant number of calories; your body will do well to thicken Punchy’s exterior, a hundred-fold more than any fish the feline could ever catch. What won’t end up as a layer on Punchy’s wobbling backside will eventually be squeezed through them; compacted into enormous logs with the other occupants of Punchy’s belly, your sum remains providing no insight as to your identity, or to which skeleton belonged what clothing. Little more than an aftertaste, and excess gas passing by the cheeks you’re now part of; Punchy had forgotten you soon after you crossed his lips-little more than a snack to occupy his hunger and tide him over until his next meal.

This one is a commission by  Bronzebanana, expertly executed to fit the story I’d drafted! I’m really pleased by how well the look of this image came out, especially the shape of Punchy’s belly! I’d intended to have more Animal Crossing stuff out in time for the game’s release (a few images of mine own, in fact), but I’ve run into a few delays in that regard. Hopefully, this is an acceptable substitute!

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