Some people's lack of a self-preservation instinct never fails to surprise me. Sure, most of the time I'm just a fairly unassuming lizard, if you don't count the occasional squirming bulge (and by occasional I mean constant). But sometimes people walk in on me while I'm overindulging, and let me tell you, you don't wanna do that if you value your existence. They might enter the room I've occupied for the afternoon, or happen to come across me in a park or a random alley, they see me sitting on my ever growing throne of squirming flesh, and still come closer. They assume it's fake, or that I'm full and I'm no longer a threat. But let me tell you: I always have room for more. Always.

They usually try to escape as soon as they realise their mistake, but by then it's already too late. They're mine, no matter what they say or do. And I'm not known for leaving survivors. Inevitably I slurp them all down, and what's waiting for them at the end of their forceful trip through my member is a long and agonising stay inside my sack. A furnace working full time, capable of melting through anything, given enough time. And I'm a patient lizard.

Let me give you a helpful tip: if you ever catch as much as a glance at me while I'm in the middle of a meal, run away. Pray I didn't notice you, and run away as fast as you can. Or don't. I certainly won't complain. I always have room for more. Always.

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This very silly and extremely non-threatening piece is a gift from the sweet Hungry Hoss from Twitter!

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