",
"writing": "[b]A Striped Present[/b]\n\n[b][i]By Rathalos122[/i][/b]\n\n\n\n“What is this doing here?”\n\nUp to now, Gyro Feather’s morning was mostly normal. While today was his birthday, or rather hatchday since his transformation into a griffon, the party would only start in the evening. So he had planned to spend the time before that mostly lazing around in his house. Well, this plan was disrupted by a large wriggling sack lying on his living room floor. Muffled protests sounded from its insides. After watching this for a bit, Gyro noticed a note wedged under the rope tying the sack together. Quickly snatching it up, he gave the thing a quick read.\n\n[i]Happy Hatchday, Gyro. I can’t show up to your party, but I got something for you anyways. Considering how often you are ranting about Zebra Shamans, I figured this might be something you'd get a kick out of.[/i]\n\nThe blue griffon angrily crumbled that note and threw it away. In his mind, he had all the right in the world to rant about them. After all, having your species changed against your will, to ‘teach you a lesson’ was more than valid reason in his opinion. \n\nAnyway, the zebra shaman thing sounded quite promising. The chance was low, but there can't be that many shamans anyway, maybe he could get some revenge. Deftly he undid the knot and emptied the sack out with a quick shake. Out tumbled a gagged zebra mare, head and one leg adorned by many golden rings and her hair styled into a large mohawk. “Ahh, of course, you are the wrong one. At least you look like a proper shaman, you will do, stripey.” \n\nAt this comment, the mare angrily ripped the gag out of her mouth “Crude language, this I won't accept. My name is Zecora and I demand proper respect!”\n\nThis situation was becoming quite familiar, although the peacock-griffon was certain this time there would be a better outcome for him. “Always the same with you. What if I decline? Are you going to put a curse on me? The last shaman I met already did this, just because he had a personal problem with me.”\n\nZecora harrumphed and angrily stomped towards Gyro. “Foul beast, cursed, yet your arrogance stays preserved, unable to see that your curse is something you deserved. Unable to understand -urks-” her tirade was abruptly interrupted when Gyro grabbed her by the throat and pulled her closer, right into his open beak.\n\nBut he didn’t swallow yet, instead, he was content to let her stew for a while, her head on his tongue and her gaze forced to stare down his gullet. Zecora stared down a pink abyss of saliva coated flesh, muscles eagerly twitching in anticipation for the coming meal. Of course, she tried to fight, desperately trying to pull her head out of his beak but Gyro merely used his other claw to hold her in place. She was left rocking around in place, stuck and choking as his claw cut off her air supply. Furthermore she had to endure the griffon’s rough tongue swifting around, dragging over her face as Gyro moaned in delight at her taste.\n\nAs amusing as this was, he was getting hungry and his gut demanded to be filled. Releasing his grip he surged forwards, a strong swallow pulling her head into his throat. But he couldn't stop to rest, not until his breakfast was firmly trapped inside his throat. He quickly lunged deeper, a combination of swallows and his grabbing claws making quick progress. His rush only ended once he was way past her shoulders, the zebra’s forelegs pinned to her side by his beak, and then he could continue at a more relaxed pace.\n\nThings got unpleasant for Zecora rather quickly. Once Gyro released his hold on her throat, she had to gasp for air and while that wasn’t a problem by itself, her head was currently inside Gyro’s throat and she was forced to inhale his breath. Stinking and heavy with some worse acidic undertones coming from further down. But that problem became less important once the bird started swallowing again. Strong muscles pressed on her from all sides and in rhythmic pulses, she was transported deeper into the predator. She tried to struggle but the pressure was so oppressive it permitted next to no movement. At least her hind-legs on the outside were flailing around wildly but uselessly.\n\nSteadily Gyro’s sharp beak traveled further down her body, more and more of her was claimed by the slimy tunnel of his throat. As she felt the strong muscles roughing up her body, her head suddenly entered some kind of pocket. It was still tight, but mostly a relief from what she experienced earlier. As her body spilled into this pocket she started wondering where exactly she was. She was sure to still be inside the throat, so this could be the stomach. Faintly she recalled some birds having something like this, called a crop but she didn’t know griffins had them too.\n\nGyro meanwhile was busy finishing off the zebra's hindlegs, lunging gulps quickly claiming them and a last one sent them downwards to join their owner inside his crop. Said organ expanded delightfully, the heavy bulge resting on his throat, swaying with his prey’s struggles. He let one claw run along it, feeling the contour of the mare inside of it. “Isn’t that a much better place for you? From zebra to griffin food, quite an upgrade, in my opinion, you should thank me for this opportunity.” Speaking with a full crop was rather difficult, his voice came out deep and muffled but he was sure his meal would hear him just fine.\n\nAnd Zecora did, only was she hearing his voice, the vibration caused by it radiated through the entire crop. As if feeling slimy, rough flesh touching your entire body wasn’t enough, now it was vibrating. “Release me now you vile beast, I'm not your food, neither your feast!”\n\nIn response, Gyro lifted his crop with both claws and let it go again, the entire thing crashing down and tossing the zebra around, eliciting a loud yelp. “Are you still rhyming? My dear, you are my meal now, nothing more. Don’t make things harder for you than they already are.” Gyro kept playing with his crop for a while, his claws massaging it and occasionally tossing it around, to the disadvantage of Zecora. Her protests were simply ignored. But soon a loud grumbling from his stomach urged him to continue with his meal. “Well, time for you to fulfill your purpose, breakfast. Try to entertain me a bit in there.”\n\n“I will not yield to you, neither will I perish. If you think you-aarrg!” Zecora was rudely interrupted when her entire surroundings suddenly flexed. She tried to fight it, but couldn’t stop her movement and with a rather quick slide, she splashed into Gyros stomach. The acidic smell just got stronger in here and actually started to hurt her nostrils. But this was no comparison to the acid attacking her body, painfully biting into it as soon as she touched it.\n\n“Oh, see you can't talk without rhyming, would be better if you finished your sentence though. I would suggest more training but I think it’s a bit late for that.” Not that Zecora was listening right now. She was rather preoccupied with screaming and struggling, the bulge hanging under Gyro shaking and every kick from the zebra sending a ripple through the swollen gut. For all her effort, it wasn’t doing her any good. Not only was the blue griffon used to this kind of fight, but the heavy movement only served to spread the acids around even more. Eventually, Gyro got tired of holding his heavy gut up and simply plopped himself down on the floor.\n\nInside said gut, the digestion had progressed nicely, most of Zecora’s fur had fallen out and was swimming around her. Her skin also wasn’t in a good state, mostly consisting of red sores at this point, with some parts already eaten away, deep wounds burrowing into the zebra. Not much struggle was coming from her at this point, as not only had she realized that this was getting nowhere, but moving just hurt too much. “Please, you made your point. Please release me and...” she failed to find a proper end to the sentence, something that never happened to her before.\n\n“And you are still trying to rhyme. Give up. You are nothing but a load of meat for me to enjoy. And soon you will be even less. Nothing will change that. But if you still can’t grasp this simple fact, maybe my gizzard can help you out.” Zecora wasn’t given a chance to respond, the stomach walls around her suddenly started moving. Strong muscles tossed her around as the stomach contracted, the walls repeatedly pressing together and relaxing. This treatment only worsened her already damaged body, ripping open her wounds and working the acids into her. And with every repetition the gizzard used more force, steadily increasing till one of Zecora’s legs was bent at an unnatural angle and broke with a loud snap.\n\nWith a satisfied grin Gyro Feather started rubbing his working belly, adding yet another massage to the ordeal the zebra was put through. His belly was a moving, loud mess at this point, Zecora screaming and renewed struggling being combined by the groaning and moving of the gut, occasional snaps sounding from it as her skeleton gave under the pressure. \n\nZecora was barely conscious anymore, all she could notice at this point was the constand ebb and flow of the gizzard processing her. Her body was reaching its limits. Gyro noticed the sudden stillness of his meal, too. Maybe it was time to end this. Focussing, he put even more strength into it. This time the gizzard didn’t relax, instead the pressure kept increasing. Unyielding, powerful muscles caused one after another bone to break until with a wet squelch her entire body gave away, her entire skeleton scattering and her flesh being reduced to nothing more than a load of minced meat.\n\n“Hmm, looks like you finally accepted your place in the world.” His claw lifted his gut up and let it fall, happily listening to the sloshing coming from within it. “Ah that sounds beautiful, you are processing nicely…” While digestion was still ongoing, his belly already lost quite a bit of its former size and any contours of the zebra had disappeared. He played a bit more with the churning bulge, but soon his eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep. The rest of his breakfast was digested away during his nap, his body greedily absorbing the nutrient slurry Zecora’s body was being reduced into, while his gizzard started compacting the indigestibles. All the shattered bones and loose fur were pressed together and even the golden jewelry the zebra was wearing just ended up pressed into the pellet.\n\n[b]—-------------------------Pellet Disposal Warning—---------------------------[/b]\n\nIt was noon when Gyro was woken up by a pressing feeling in his throat. A pellet begging to be expelled. Not wasting time Gyro sprang up and started hurking it up. The compact ball travelled up his throat, but this was an easy process for the experienced predator. With a massive lurch, it splashed on the floor and the griffon was inspecting his prize. A salvia soaked pellet was a mass of black and white fur and several broken bones, only a few of them remained intact, even the skull was split in half. The bent remains of Zecora’s golden band intersected the entire thing, with the exception of a single band that was stuck halfway out of the pellet, creating some kind of loop jutting out of it. Noticing that little detail was giving Gyro a little idea.\n\nPicking up the thing, Gyro moved toward one of the walls of his living room. A single nail was sticking out of the wall. He had planned to hang a picture there one day, but this might be a better idea. And indeed it worked, the pellet was hanging on the wall like some kind of grotesque decoration. “Well, look at this, I didn't know you could be this practical. This is all that's left of you, just a little trophy, nothing but decoration for my house. You will be a nice conversation piece for my party later.” Gyro admired it a bit further but soon another feeling was distracting him, his body needed to expel the rest of his meal. \n\n[b]—-------------------------Scat Disposal Warning—---------------------------[/b]\n\nOriginally he just wanted to rush to his toilet, but on the way to it, he stumbled upon a better option. Wouldn’t it be poetic for his rhyming guest to end inside the same sack he found her into? After pushing the sack into position, he positioned his ass over it and with a wet fart the brown tide started. Log after log was pressed out of his cheeks and dropped into the sack with a splash, the turds soft and smooth, only a few bone splinters and hairs having escaped his stomach. Without anything to bind them together, they quickly lost shape, leaving a formless brown mass to fill up the sack.\n\nWith a satisfied grunt, Gyro shook off the last long log and turned around to witness his work. A sack full of shit and a foul odor filling the room. “Looks like I brought out your inner beauty, zebra. It looks just like I expected. Well, time to get rid of you, can’t have you bothering my guests.” Quickly the sack was tied up, using the same rope that bound it earlier, and Gyro was dragging the thing outside. With a heavy heft, he dumped the entire thing into his garbage can. It barely even fit, but a few quick stomps pushed it in all the way. “Hope you enjoy your grave. Well maybe a bit to high class for a shaman, but I'm feeling generous today. It’s my hatchday after all. Now excuse me, I have a party to prepare.”\n\n",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "A Striped Present
By Rathalos122
“What is this doing here?”
Up to now, Gyro Feather’s morning was mostly normal. While today was his birthday, or rather hatchday since his transformation into a griffon, the party would only start in the evening. So he had planned to spend the time before that mostly lazing around in his house. Well, this plan was disrupted by a large wriggling sack lying on his living room floor. Muffled protests sounded from its insides. After watching this for a bit, Gyro noticed a note wedged under the rope tying the sack together. Quickly snatching it up, he gave the thing a quick read.
Happy Hatchday, Gyro. I can’t show up to your party, but I got something for you anyways. Considering how often you are ranting about Zebra Shamans, I figured this might be something you'd get a kick out of.
The blue griffon angrily crumbled that note and threw it away. In his mind, he had all the right in the world to rant about them. After all, having your species changed against your will, to ‘teach you a lesson’ was more than valid reason in his opinion.
Anyway, the zebra shaman thing sounded quite promising. The chance was low, but there can't be that many shamans anyway, maybe he could get some revenge. Deftly he undid the knot and emptied the sack out with a quick shake. Out tumbled a gagged zebra mare, head and one leg adorned by many golden rings and her hair styled into a large mohawk. “Ahh, of course, you are the wrong one. At least you look like a proper shaman, you will do, stripey.”
At this comment, the mare angrily ripped the gag out of her mouth “Crude language, this I won't accept. My name is Zecora and I demand proper respect!”
This situation was becoming quite familiar, although the peacock-griffon was certain this time there would be a better outcome for him. “Always the same with you. What if I decline? Are you going to put a curse on me? The last shaman I met already did this, just because he had a personal problem with me.”
Zecora harrumphed and angrily stomped towards Gyro. “Foul beast, cursed, yet your arrogance stays preserved, unable to see that your curse is something you deserved. Unable to understand -urks-” her tirade was abruptly interrupted when Gyro grabbed her by the throat and pulled her closer, right into his open beak.
But he didn’t swallow yet, instead, he was content to let her stew for a while, her head on his tongue and her gaze forced to stare down his gullet. Zecora stared down a pink abyss of saliva coated flesh, muscles eagerly twitching in anticipation for the coming meal. Of course, she tried to fight, desperately trying to pull her head out of his beak but Gyro merely used his other claw to hold her in place. She was left rocking around in place, stuck and choking as his claw cut off her air supply. Furthermore she had to endure the griffon’s rough tongue swifting around, dragging over her face as Gyro moaned in delight at her taste.
As amusing as this was, he was getting hungry and his gut demanded to be filled. Releasing his grip he surged forwards, a strong swallow pulling her head into his throat. But he couldn't stop to rest, not until his breakfast was firmly trapped inside his throat. He quickly lunged deeper, a combination of swallows and his grabbing claws making quick progress. His rush only ended once he was way past her shoulders, the zebra’s forelegs pinned to her side by his beak, and then he could continue at a more relaxed pace.
Things got unpleasant for Zecora rather quickly. Once Gyro released his hold on her throat, she had to gasp for air and while that wasn’t a problem by itself, her head was currently inside Gyro’s throat and she was forced to inhale his breath. Stinking and heavy with some worse acidic undertones coming from further down. But that problem became less important once the bird started swallowing again. Strong muscles pressed on her from all sides and in rhythmic pulses, she was transported deeper into the predator. She tried to struggle but the pressure was so oppressive it permitted next to no movement. At least her hind-legs on the outside were flailing around wildly but uselessly.
Steadily Gyro’s sharp beak traveled further down her body, more and more of her was claimed by the slimy tunnel of his throat. As she felt the strong muscles roughing up her body, her head suddenly entered some kind of pocket. It was still tight, but mostly a relief from what she experienced earlier. As her body spilled into this pocket she started wondering where exactly she was. She was sure to still be inside the throat, so this could be the stomach. Faintly she recalled some birds having something like this, called a crop but she didn’t know griffins had them too.
Gyro meanwhile was busy finishing off the zebra's hindlegs, lunging gulps quickly claiming them and a last one sent them downwards to join their owner inside his crop. Said organ expanded delightfully, the heavy bulge resting on his throat, swaying with his prey’s struggles. He let one claw run along it, feeling the contour of the mare inside of it. “Isn’t that a much better place for you? From zebra to griffin food, quite an upgrade, in my opinion, you should thank me for this opportunity.” Speaking with a full crop was rather difficult, his voice came out deep and muffled but he was sure his meal would hear him just fine.
And Zecora did, only was she hearing his voice, the vibration caused by it radiated through the entire crop. As if feeling slimy, rough flesh touching your entire body wasn’t enough, now it was vibrating. “Release me now you vile beast, I'm not your food, neither your feast!”
In response, Gyro lifted his crop with both claws and let it go again, the entire thing crashing down and tossing the zebra around, eliciting a loud yelp. “Are you still rhyming? My dear, you are my meal now, nothing more. Don’t make things harder for you than they already are.” Gyro kept playing with his crop for a while, his claws massaging it and occasionally tossing it around, to the disadvantage of Zecora. Her protests were simply ignored. But soon a loud grumbling from his stomach urged him to continue with his meal. “Well, time for you to fulfill your purpose, breakfast. Try to entertain me a bit in there.”
“I will not yield to you, neither will I perish. If you think you-aarrg!” Zecora was rudely interrupted when her entire surroundings suddenly flexed. She tried to fight it, but couldn’t stop her movement and with a rather quick slide, she splashed into Gyros stomach. The acidic smell just got stronger in here and actually started to hurt her nostrils. But this was no comparison to the acid attacking her body, painfully biting into it as soon as she touched it.
“Oh, see you can't talk without rhyming, would be better if you finished your sentence though. I would suggest more training but I think it’s a bit late for that.” Not that Zecora was listening right now. She was rather preoccupied with screaming and struggling, the bulge hanging under Gyro shaking and every kick from the zebra sending a ripple through the swollen gut. For all her effort, it wasn’t doing her any good. Not only was the blue griffon used to this kind of fight, but the heavy movement only served to spread the acids around even more. Eventually, Gyro got tired of holding his heavy gut up and simply plopped himself down on the floor.
Inside said gut, the digestion had progressed nicely, most of Zecora’s fur had fallen out and was swimming around her. Her skin also wasn’t in a good state, mostly consisting of red sores at this point, with some parts already eaten away, deep wounds burrowing into the zebra. Not much struggle was coming from her at this point, as not only had she realized that this was getting nowhere, but moving just hurt too much. “Please, you made your point. Please release me and...” she failed to find a proper end to the sentence, something that never happened to her before.
“And you are still trying to rhyme. Give up. You are nothing but a load of meat for me to enjoy. And soon you will be even less. Nothing will change that. But if you still can’t grasp this simple fact, maybe my gizzard can help you out.” Zecora wasn’t given a chance to respond, the stomach walls around her suddenly started moving. Strong muscles tossed her around as the stomach contracted, the walls repeatedly pressing together and relaxing. This treatment only worsened her already damaged body, ripping open her wounds and working the acids into her. And with every repetition the gizzard used more force, steadily increasing till one of Zecora’s legs was bent at an unnatural angle and broke with a loud snap.
With a satisfied grin Gyro Feather started rubbing his working belly, adding yet another massage to the ordeal the zebra was put through. His belly was a moving, loud mess at this point, Zecora screaming and renewed struggling being combined by the groaning and moving of the gut, occasional snaps sounding from it as her skeleton gave under the pressure.
Zecora was barely conscious anymore, all she could notice at this point was the constand ebb and flow of the gizzard processing her. Her body was reaching its limits. Gyro noticed the sudden stillness of his meal, too. Maybe it was time to end this. Focussing, he put even more strength into it. This time the gizzard didn’t relax, instead the pressure kept increasing. Unyielding, powerful muscles caused one after another bone to break until with a wet squelch her entire body gave away, her entire skeleton scattering and her flesh being reduced to nothing more than a load of minced meat.
“Hmm, looks like you finally accepted your place in the world.” His claw lifted his gut up and let it fall, happily listening to the sloshing coming from within it. “Ah that sounds beautiful, you are processing nicely…” While digestion was still ongoing, his belly already lost quite a bit of its former size and any contours of the zebra had disappeared. He played a bit more with the churning bulge, but soon his eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep. The rest of his breakfast was digested away during his nap, his body greedily absorbing the nutrient slurry Zecora’s body was being reduced into, while his gizzard started compacting the indigestibles. All the shattered bones and loose fur were pressed together and even the golden jewelry the zebra was wearing just ended up pressed into the pellet.
It was noon when Gyro was woken up by a pressing feeling in his throat. A pellet begging to be expelled. Not wasting time Gyro sprang up and started hurking it up. The compact ball travelled up his throat, but this was an easy process for the experienced predator. With a massive lurch, it splashed on the floor and the griffon was inspecting his prize. A salvia soaked pellet was a mass of black and white fur and several broken bones, only a few of them remained intact, even the skull was split in half. The bent remains of Zecora’s golden band intersected the entire thing, with the exception of a single band that was stuck halfway out of the pellet, creating some kind of loop jutting out of it. Noticing that little detail was giving Gyro a little idea.
Picking up the thing, Gyro moved toward one of the walls of his living room. A single nail was sticking out of the wall. He had planned to hang a picture there one day, but this might be a better idea. And indeed it worked, the pellet was hanging on the wall like some kind of grotesque decoration. “Well, look at this, I didn't know you could be this practical. This is all that's left of you, just a little trophy, nothing but decoration for my house. You will be a nice conversation piece for my party later.” Gyro admired it a bit further but soon another feeling was distracting him, his body needed to expel the rest of his meal.
Originally he just wanted to rush to his toilet, but on the way to it, he stumbled upon a better option. Wouldn’t it be poetic for his rhyming guest to end inside the same sack he found her into? After pushing the sack into position, he positioned his ass over it and with a wet fart the brown tide started. Log after log was pressed out of his cheeks and dropped into the sack with a splash, the turds soft and smooth, only a few bone splinters and hairs having escaped his stomach. Without anything to bind them together, they quickly lost shape, leaving a formless brown mass to fill up the sack.
With a satisfied grunt, Gyro shook off the last long log and turned around to witness his work. A sack full of shit and a foul odor filling the room. “Looks like I brought out your inner beauty, zebra. It looks just like I expected. Well, time to get rid of you, can’t have you bothering my guests.” Quickly the sack was tied up, using the same rope that bound it earlier, and Gyro was dragging the thing outside. With a heavy heft, he dumped the entire thing into his garbage can. It barely even fit, but a few quick stomps pushed it in all the way. “Hope you enjoy your grave. Well maybe a bit to high class for a shaman, but I'm feeling generous today. It’s my hatchday after all. Now excuse me, I have a party to prepare.”
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