As the Pidgeot forms from the red energy from the Pokeball, you are mildly impressed. The Pidgeot is obviously experienced, but it is overconfident. Obviously it doesn't know what it's dealing with. Obviously you'll have to give it that lesson, and you'll only need to teach it once. The Pidgeot expertly comes at you with a Wing Attack, but you merely drop lower and swing with your Iron Tail, connecting against the Pidgeot with a craa-ack. Soon enough it responds with a Cut from its talons, which you barely show off by deflecting it with a superior Slash. The Slash makes the Pidgeot falter, and you let a torrent of flame from your mouth burst forward and wash over your opponent, your Flamethrower roasting it and making it fall unconscious from the skies.
You weren't going to just let that lovely roasted and cooked meal get away into some trainer's hands so easily, and so you dive and catch the Pidgeot in your greedy jaws, dragging it in with glee. Your tongue wraps around its meaty form, all its feathers burned off by your flame, leaving only the lightly roasted bird to the whims of your maw. You hum with pleasure from the delectible taste, allowing your tongue to coat the meaty morsel with your saliva, washing it around your warm and fleshy maw. Slowly, the Pidgeot regains consciousness from the wet torrent of your tongue and saliva around its tasty form, and begins to realize just where it was. The realization comes far too late, as you arch your tongue back, spilling the now struggling roast bird back against your throat flaps. You savor one last moment before raising your head and letting a loud gulp fill the air, allowing your meal to be dragged down your gullet by the throat muscles. It cries out at the injustice, its struggles and wiggling in your throat only making you sing in pleasure with a chorus of more gulps. It makes a wonderful image as the roast meat makes a bulge in your throat moving lovingly slowly down towards your awaiting belly. Finally, your throat pushes the bird into your stretchy stomach, you letting a burp out in glee. As it struggled around in your belly, you licked your lips and swallowed some more of the delicious taste, the saliva raining down on the Pidgeot's head in your gut. It should satisfy your hunger for quite a while. You smile at the wriggling form in your belly, knowing that it is hopeless for the lovely meal, and that soon enough it will be just mush for you.
