Screw Subtlety. This is Gilda Vore.

Dash coughed and sputtered, shaking from the frigid air and the sticky ropes she was covered in. "Y-Yeah... I got something like a good explanation. My friends are assholes."

"The superheroes or the military?"

"M-Military."

Gilda clucked her tongue forlornly. "You have so many friends, and so few are good ones." Comebacks were coming back to her. Easier when your velvet folds weren't on fire. She took the edge of her shirt from under her jacket and began using it to hastily clean Dash's squirming form.

"I'm not a kitten..." Dash muttered.

"Yeah, if you were I'd lick it off like my mom used to. Now, you wanna tell me what your shitty friends have to do with today's events? Why you crawled up my vagina?"

There was an awkward cough outside. "Hey, I know you told me to get out, but I really need to go-"

"Get out!"

"Picky, picky." Dash griped. "Look, obviously it's a Poison Joke. For a plant named after its sense of humor, its horribly one note. It shrinks you, it gives you a dick, it makes you walk funny, its basically if you gave a college frat boy Discord's powers. But what I've been told is that the antidote is inside you."

"We talking Saw or E621?"

"Remember that frat boy thing? There's a reason it's popular with the Bolts. Definitely E621. So sue me, I assumed they meant your cooch, which by the way, smells awful that close up." Dash shook womanly gunk off her head and leaned in like she was about to share a secret, although that may be in part because their affairs had already been listened in on once. "But I've had some time to think while trying not to drown, and it occurs to me- how'd you like me to take you up on that 'being eaten' offer?"

"You've been waving meat in front of the lion since Flight School. Take a fuckin guess."

Dash waved her hand impatiently. "Look, I'm an idiot. Stuffing it up your cooch? How is anyone gonna pull that shit off?"

"I can definitely think of a few ways."

"But making someone eat it? Now you're talking. That's easy, it's classy, you can make food puns during it and snigger afterwards. That's Bolt Behavior."

"Bolt Behavior sounds an awful lot like some Revenge of the Nerds shit."

"Why do you think they hired me? Now come on, I owe you a lot for today, and I think we can settle at least one of those allowances right here right now, by shoving me-"

Gilda crammed her entire fist into her mouth and wiped the empty claws on her jacket.

"Love you, Dash." She muttered around a mouthful of food as she stood up again.

"Love you t-" Dash sighed as an all-too familiar tongue rubbed up along her cheek before barreling her entire body into the hard plates of Gilda's beak. It only got gentle rubbing her against the ridges, inwardly facing to keep prey from escaping in less civilized days, as Gilda was all too proud to admit.

Even then it quickly tried to make up for the lull in roughhousing, shoving her against the roof of her mouth instead and rubbing vigorously along her back as she coughed out saliva, then falling out from under her to land with a squelch back on the floor. It flipped again and pinned her under the giant muscle like a wrestling match, prodding around at her, slathering her up and even dipping low with an impressive show of flexibility to smush barbarically at her outer entrance between the legs, only to quickly give up when she found how hard it was.

Tossed back into a front flip to land spread eagle on Gilda's tongue again, and she finally got bored, the edges of it tilting up to collect saliva in a puddle under her- one she was facefirst in and not loving the smell of, mind you- and with a glk and a reload cocking motion, her face was pressed firmly against a starfish of flesh that opened all too eagerly to suck her head in. For her part, she did her best to just let it happen once Gilda was done fucking with her; it was impossible to see, but the sensation of flesh rubbing against her body was one she was getting used to, and she found herself wishing she had taken her uniform off in between scenery changes. Wasn't like Gilda had never seen her naked before.

Her arms were much too compacted going down the throat to consider that now, and all she could do was try not to swallow the journey through.

Gilda took her seat back at the bar, throwing her hands out in a sarcastic display to the Keep.

"What was up yours?" He asked curiously.

"My girlfriend." She muttered.

"Horny changeling?"

"You're halfway there."

"Could never date em myself. The eyes creeped me out."

With a tight squeeze that she felt pass over from her grimacing face to her feet, Dash finally dislodged from the peristalsis and fell ungracefully to the ground in a splash.

The smell hit her first, devoid of sight and far used to the physical sensation. Meat generally tended to make her squeamish, and this high a concentration of the stench of rotting animals- Yech. Then, once her head was pulled out of the lukewarm and thick brine she landed in and her soggy hair was pulled out of her eyes, next came the sound, beating and thumping, sloshing and grinding, grumbling and groaning. It was almost a sensory overload, and she sacrificed what little dignity she had to stay hunched over in the puddle that bubbled around her to get used to the sounds.

It was also oppressively hot. Screw her suit. They gave these things out to visiting kids, they could afford her a spare. She unzipped the back and yanked the one piece off from her legs, kicking it into the lumps of who knows what to digest while giving her newly freed body space to breathe, now completely bare and trying its damnedest to ignore the grimy sensation of pure, unaltered wrongness.

Job to do. Dash reached blindly in the darkness, meeting a lump of something solid and just as quickly pulling her hand away with disgust. What would it be in? A bottle, a parcel? It was likely to be liquid, but even they wouldn't let Gilda just digest it. Something that could be easily enchanted to protect against the pH, as well as... everything else. Gilda's system wasn't too big a fan of her being here bumbling around, growling at her and quivering in motions and sudden vibrations that toppled Dash with every step she tried to take until she was dragging herself through the puddle with her nose an inch above liquid.

Something easily enchantable, like... a glass bottle! Dash's grip clasped around something solid and smooth, seizing it to her chest and cradling it like a lost child between her breasts while pulling into a fetal position. Bless her mess, the team actually fed it to her girlfriend. Now to drink-

Hmm. Now to get ou-

Hmm. Now to tell Gilda to let h-

Dash sighed, trying to get comfortable in the quaking, dripping, hot, loud, slimy, rank chamber.

The bartender refilled Gilda’s fries coolly. It was amazing the kinship that could be formed over a sudden genitalia emergency.

“I think there’s some weird euphemism here I’m not getting, with the whole stomach thing, but I get the gist. Do you two fight often?”

“Oh, like cats.” Gilda confirmed.

“But do you love her?”

“More than life itself.” A small smile met her lips.

“Seems you’ve got something good going on then.”

“You know I’d never deny it.”

The bartender turned away to continue cleaning the glasses. “You’re a weird chick. Sorry about your pussy. I honestly assumed gryphons had cloacas, like dragons.”

Gilda shrugged it off. “Happens a lot.” Then, patting her stomach, she muttered one last, “Sorry, Dash. Cough you up when I’m in a better mood.”

And ordered another drink.