Max was sitting on his couch, flipping idly through the channels with one hand, shoveling potato chips into his mouth with the other. There was nothing good on, but that wasn't really an issue. There rarely was, after all.
Pretty soon, though, he reached the bottom of the big bag. He tossed it carelessly to the side, where it landed on a small mountain of similar empty bags, and reached for another snack.
His hand rested on something soft and warm, he frowned and looked down in time to see the cat swallow the last of the hotdog sausages he had prepared. He picked the cat up by the scruff of its neck and notices its distended belly. "You ate all my snacks kitty." He growls at the animal, his belly growls loudly, wanting more food.
Max knows that this cat is his stepson Bryan's favorite thing. He's seen the way Bryan coddles it, and he knows it's fucking spoiled. He also knows that he's still hungry right now. With a smirk, Max opens his mouth wide.
"Down the hatch!" he gleefully bellows, shoving the thrashing animal down his throat. It gives him a bit of trouble, but he manages to swallow it down. Pretty soon there's a thrashing mass bumping around in his newly distended gut. It feels good.
BUURRRP.
And with the loss of its air, the thrashing starts to lessen.
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