You're not sure how long you're trapped in Steve's stomach. Time quickly loses all meaning in your new gastric world of wet squelches and groans. As you sit in the digesting pile of pizza and fizzy beer, the only thing preventing you from descending into panic is the pure disgust you feel. At first, you tried to shove your back against the wall in an attempt to avoid the sick chyme sitting in the stomach's center. Steve's stomach lining merely squelched and sucked away at you, seeping its awful juices over your bare shoulders.
After a while, it felt a little more prudent to wade into the muck and wait out your punishment. A nagging fear remained at the back of your mind as you stood in what you tried to convince yourself was water. Despite the darkness of Steve's stomach, you could still make out the mushy, rotund shapes as his stomach pushed them around. Each squeaking squelch and squeeze carried with it the promise that you would soon be the same as your pool if you stayed here for too long. You hadn't felt the itch of digestion just yet (at least you hoped it would only be an itch), but you knew it was only a matter of time before this hot tub got a lot hotter.
An uneasy groan leaves your throat. You shiver, taking a step backward. Perhaps being a bit closer to the walls would help. At least you wouldn't be waist-deep. However, just as you managed to go back far enough for your knees to exit the "water", a familiar burble sounds from above. You resist the urge to look up, knowing damn well what's on the way.
Right on schedule, the disgusting slap of half-solid food echoes in your ears. Steve's latest mouthful collides with the churning sea, eager to join the rest of its masticated self. A gooey surge flows through Steve's stomach, and much to your dismay, you can't keep your balance. You stumble backward, overtaken by the wave of chewed food with a cry. Your legs flip out from under you. You pitch backward, and slip under the waves.
Unfortunately, you don't get much of a chance to experience swimming in Steve's gastric pool. Almost as soon as you go underneath the swell, your foot catches on a strange, knotted portion of Steve's stomach. That small touch is all it takes for that odd port to open wide. It yawns open, eagerly dragging food into its hungry maw. You can feel the current as it flows downward, and in turn, drags you with it.
You can't even scream as your pitifully small form disappears into Steve's intestines, never to return.
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