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smolcinnamonchipmunk · 5 months ago

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Mid-Fight Snack

(Elloooo. Been another while since I've been able to get around to posting actual stuff. I'd love to post or make more, but I have two animations I'm trying to work on and an entire cosplay that's taken up all my freebie because I don't know anything about sewing, lol. Obviously hasn't stopped me from thinking about Honkai a lot. Anyways, here's the Boothill vore writing finally! Hope it's not too bad, I'm a bit sleep deprived.)

Word count: 6233

TW/CW: Soft, safe m/nb G/t vore aaaaaand, I think that's literally it.

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“Behind ya, small-fry!” was about the only warning I had before being shouldered aside by a wall of metal, blinking in surprise as I spun around to see who just ran past me. I saw the retreating form of a very gray-toned humanoid with a red sash over their shoulder and white and black hair flaring out behind them as they ran, looking vaguely familiar. I squinted when I noticed the hat on their head. Was that the cowboy Dan Heng told us about that we met briefly in the Dreamscape?

I’d feel bad for not remembering his name if we hadn’t just barely met.

“Get back here!” was the only warning I had as I looked back at where the cowboy came from and saw a bunch of IPC personnel and robots charge around the corner towards him. And, in turn, me.

Having spent more time on the run than not in my time after joining the Express I ended up yelping and bolting down the hall after the cowboy. My footsteps were drowned out by the stampede of footsteps behind me and the sound of crashing and screaming ahead as the cowboy flung a few tables behind him as he passed, disturbing several guests and staff as he rushed past.

It wasn't until I rounded the corner after he turned down a hall that I realized that I probably should have just jumped out of the way because me running after the cowboy away from the IPC definitely made me look like an accomplice.

“Fucking damn it,” I hissed under my breath at the thought, jumping over the legs of another knocked over table. I realized too late that there was a couple still standing way too close on the other side but managed to avoid slamming into them. My shoe landed on a grape strewn on the carpet and I yelped as I almost slipped.

Narrowly avoiding faceplanting on the ground, I ended up straightening and locking eyes with the cowboy as he turned to look over his shoulder, seeing it widen slightly at seeing me. To be fair, I was only maybe twenty feet behind him compared to the IPC crowd that were chasing behind me still struggling with strewn furniture and passerbys.

My eyes widened as I saw something glint other than his exterior in his right hand, holding my hands slightly in front of me in a mock surrender to show that I was unarmed, quickly shouting, “I'm not IPC!”

“What the fudge are ya doing tailin’ me then?” the cowboy barked back at me, finger looking a bit too close to the trigger for my liking.

“I panicked when I saw the IPC guys running around the corner and it wasn't until I already started following that I realized I probably looked like-.”

“Criminal and accomplice west-bound towards main lobby elevators!” a robotic voice shouted behind us, one of the large, round robots that was way too quick for its size.

“Yeah, that,” I sighed, rolling my eyes and lowering my arms. It was weird holding my arms still while running.

All of IPC in the hotel probably knew about this chase. I only hoped that the Aventurine guy that almost cornered me in my room wouldn't show up. If fighting him in the dreamscape reflected anything about reality, I didn't want to be part of accidentally tearing the hotel apart fighting him to get away.

The cowboy stared intently at me for a second before growling low in his throat and holstering his gun with a flourishing twirl of his hand. I fully expected him to turn back forward and ignore me now that he determined I wasn't a threat, but instead he suddenly dropped pace to match me. He definitely was faster than me normally, but he’d been throwing so much stuff behind him and swerving through people that it slowed him a little whereas I was given almost clear passage in his wake.

“If you ain't IPC, why the fudge was your first thought at seeing these muddle-fudgers chasin’ after me to tag along,” he asked, voice sounding like he didn't fully believe I wasn't IPC.

“Well,” I replied, very glad that I had enough stamina to run and answer at the same time. I yelped when the cowboy suddenly twisted beside me, throwing down a tall potted plant as we ran around another corner, narrowly missing crashing into an elderly lady. “I haven't been around much, but everytime the Express has stopped somewhere there's been at least a couple times where we end up running from someone or something.

“Usually I'm with a group, so when you started running, my instinct was to follow like with them,” I finished sheepishly, looking to the side at him and almost startling. I'd been too focused on running to realize how fucking tall he was, needing to crane my neck a bit to look up at him.

“Well, fork me sideways and call me a son of a nice lady!” The cowboy exclaimed and laughed, showing off shark-like teeth. The eye not obscured by his hair glanced down and met my gaze for a moment, giving me a solid glimpse of dark gray iris with a red pupil and… was that a white crosshair in his eye? “You're one of them Astral folks with the Xianzhou fella!”

“And you must be the cowboy guy that broke onto the Express that Dan Heng told us about,” I blinked a bit at the realization, and a little at his odd speech patterns. One of the first things after waking up from the dreamscape being a check in with the other Astral Express crew with one of the weirdest things being Dan Heng messaging about how a cowboy got onto the Express. He had glossed over the fact that said cowboy showed up armed, but Pom Pom had been more than willing to share that fact in the chat. Looking back at the herd of IPC behind us, I asked, “Did you greet people at gunpoint again?”

“Where I come from, that’s just one of the many ways to say hello,” he chuckled. His face fell with mine as more IPC turned the corner at the end of the hall ahead while shouting, his expression turning into a scowl. Guests and staff alike glanced between the two walls of IPC personnel converging with us in the middle, most wisely making the decision to try and press against the walls or retreat back into their rooms to stay out of the way.

“Shit,” I started looking for other ways to turn, suddenly very much disliking the lengthy straight hallways. My eyes noticed a set of double doors to the right just as the cowboy shouted, “On the right!”.

I prepped myself to manifest my baseball bat to slam through the doors but the cowboy reached them first, sprinting ahead and spinning around to slam the back of his boot spur-first against the weak point of the handle. I’m not even sure if the doors had been locked, but I was glad we were both on the same page of better safe than sorry.

“After you, darlin’,” the cowboy paused just long enough to let me through first and I heard the rattling click of loading ammo as I passed, presumably taking out his gun again, the sound of his heels trailing behind on the carpet behind me.

“’Ppreciated, cowboy!”

I slowed slightly as the hallway ended up being incredibly short, leading to an expansive open area with tiled floor that we definitely only had a few seconds to take stock of before the IPC after us would start trickling in. Several types of gambling tables and a bar were in here, with a few scattered sitting areas with tables and luxurious plush chairs, and at least one pool table with the only thing breaking up the entire space being supporting pillars and various lamps or potted plants decorating the place.

At least a dozen eyes looked towards us as we ran in and I booked it towards what looked like the clearest path through the lounge, shouting, “Don’t mind us, just passing through!”

A crash behind me made me jolt and look behind myself, seeing the cowboy flip over a table as we ran by, scattering gambling chips, cards, and glasses of alcohol all over the ground as the people around the table scattered. Patrons started getting up and moving as far from us as possible, some making their way to the exits. Which, from the other sounds behind us, the exit where we came in was starting to be blocked by incoming IPC.

“Do you have to keep knocking shit over,” I asked, trying to temper some giddiness as I glanced back, the cowboy looking behind him with a smirk towards the exit. I saw a few of the smaller IPC run in from the short hall. “I like destruction too, but that wasn’t even in the way.”

The cowboy looked undeterred by my comment, seeming to be having fun with this chase. “Helps slow ‘em down.”

I scoffed in amusement as I turned my attention back forward, eyes widening at the sight of more IPC starting to pour in at the other end of the lounge. Glancing around for another exit that the two obvious ones I commented, “I don’t think slowing them down’ll help any when we’re blocked in!”

My shoes slid on the tile beneath me as I skid to a halt, the cowboy stopping only a second after me and overshooting me by a couple feet. His gun was already in hand, head turning as he also seemed to take stock of the room to see if there was a way to wriggle out of the situation. Unfortunately, it looked like the two exits the IPC came in from were the only ones to the lounge, leaving us cornered as the space filled with IPC personnel and robots.

“Hands in the air,” one of the larger bots demanded, probably carrying a high rank among the group. A bunch of them lifted rifles and guns to aim at us, the rest held large staffs with a glowing orange end for electrocuting. The other larger bots in the group lifted the yellow shields they had on their left arms while the one that spoke to us added, “And drop your weapons! You’re both going into IPC custody.

“You.” - the robot pointed to the cowboy, who raised his hands up without dropping his gun - “For a list of crimes that would have us here all day if I listed them all. And you-.”

I raised my arms slowly with the cowboy and narrowed my eyes at the robot as it gestured to me. I felt tense, internally coiled up like a snake ready to strike. I had a feeling that Criminal Cowboy wouldn’t be going without a fight, and neither was I. Question was just when to start and he seemed experienced enough with this that I was going to let him make the first move to avoid fucking it up for him.

“-for aiding and abetting a wanted criminal,” the robot concluded. Lowering its arm from pointing at us it gestured to one of the grunts, who produced a pair of glowing handcuffs and presumably had more. “Now, drop your weapon! I won’t be asking nicely a third time.”

“Heh,” the cowboy let out an amused exhale. “This ain’t my first showdown. But I’ll play your little game.”

I watched the cowboy intently as he loosened the grip on his gun until it started sliding out of his grip, dropping towards the tiled ground. My breath hitched in my throat in anticipation, seeing a few of the IPC around us relax slightly.

With a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it fluidity, the cowboy raised his left hand as his fingers contorted, shooting at the chest of the leader bot and striking true through its carapace. In almost the same moment his right leg shifted, the toe of his boot catching the dropped pistol and flicking his ankle up to throw it back into the air where he caught it in a twirl with his right hand.

“Get somewhere safe,” the cowboy said as the leader bot sparked and began to fall. He fired off another shot before the first even hit the ground, taking out two grunts that had been standing in an unfortunate overlap. Looking down at me, he had a wild grin on his face while the red in his eyes glowed. “I’ll handle these muddle-fudgers and find ya when the dust settles. Now, bring it on, baby!”

Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heel and popped off a couple more shots as the crowd of IPC jostled out of their shock. A couple peeled off and retreated from the room in a flight response but most immediately trained their attention on the cowboy as he charged towards the nearest cluster, giving another grunt an introduction to the back of his heel with a spur to the face.

“Oh, hell no,” I said to myself, focusing on the energy inside myself and felt my hands tingle as a black baseball bat manifested within my grasp, arcs of energy crackling off of it and my hands before dissipating. With almost everyone focusing on the cowboy bobbing around and firing shots, it was almost too easy for me to rush up behind about four people and wack them over the head before I also started getting some attention from the closest IPC personnel.

I had to roll out of the way of a grunt swinging a staff at my face, twisting to the side and tumbling before popping back up to my feet, darting around a pillar to hit someone else while shouting, “Staffs are a bit better when you’re not THAT close!”

With a bunch of IPC also now firing their guns, I didn’t notice the pause in the particular metal twangs from the cowboy’s pistol until I heard, “Son of a-, I told you to get somewhere safe!”

Looking over to where he dodged a few IPC bullets I saw him quick reload while glancing me up and down like he was reassessing me. I felt a surge of satisfaction and spite, running towards a few more IPC members and charging my bat up before swinging it in a sideways arc to hit three of them with a crackling smack that bowled over all three to the ground. Dodging a couple rounds myself, I kicked over one of the gambling tables and crouched behind it as I retorted, “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy! I can handle a knock around or two!”

“Fork, color me surprised, small-fry,” the cowboy chuckled, doing an impressive twirl to shoot one of the grunts with a rifle. Two grunts with staffs rushed forward to try and do some sort of pincer move on him but he jumped into the air and backflipped onto a pool table. He tilted his head in my direction and tipped his hat with his left hand. “I feel like a right ash-vole underestimatin’ ya.”

I opened my mouth to reply even as he turned his attention to some more ground grunts running at him with staffs, noticing movement behind him. A couple riflemen were peeking up from behind the counter of the bar, both shifting like they were talking amongst themselves. One rifleman jerked their head towards the standing cowboy and the other looked like they hesitated before slowly raising the barrel to aim at the cowboy’s torso while the other rifleman watched with their own rifle slightly over the counter.

“Hold still, you,” an angry robotic voice sounded on my right, one of the standing large bots about twenty feet away. Its entire body shook as compartments in its shoulders opened and it released a couple rounds in my direction.

Yelping at the sight, I hopped over the table I was crouched behind and weaved towards the cowboy as I warned, “Rifle behind you! I got the staff guys!”

Explosives went off where I had just been, no doubt destroying the unfortunate table. The cowboy looked towards me at my outburst then scowled and spun around, firing off a shot at the rifleman aiming at him. The first hit the counter but a quick second shot knocked the rifleman out of the game, the other ducking back beneath the bar counter.

Running up to the grunts trying to charge the pool table I conducted energy into my bat again, swinging another arc to get a cluster of them before singling out the last couple. Huffing, I straightened just in time to see the cowboy shoot off again towards the bar, the bullet ricocheting off the shelves behind the counter just right to hit the hiding rifleman that you could see in the behind the bar mirror.

“Nice shot,” I said, extremely impressed at his marksmanship. I tried shooting a rifle after a fight on Belebog once and was immediately berated by Dan Heng when the shot went wild due to inexperience.

“Plenty more where that came from,” the cowboy smirked, tumbling off the pool table and firing off another shot from his left hand, hearing the creaking and fall of another large bot. “We'll have the rest of these muddle-fudgers cleaned up in no ti-.”

"In here!"

Both of us turned our attention towards the loud shout, noticing the sound of more footsteps from both exits to the lounge. I didn't realize that some of the remaining IPC personnel had run off, probably one of them or the ones that retreated at the start of the fight calling for back up. And it looked like it unfortunately arrived.

The grunts still in the lounge looked at each other before switching from a more disheartened and intimidated demeanor to a rejuvenated stance at hearing the fresh onslaught of IPC coming to help.

"I think we might want to reassess that statement there, cowboy," I tossed my head to the side with a groan. I rotated my shoulders to try and loosen them a bit before rushing forward toward the grunts still in the lounge. I noticed one of them raise their rifle towards me and prepared to dodge, but a few shots from behind me went off and both the rifleman and a couple other grunts were thrown back to the ground.

Charging between a couple of the other personnel, I grunted as a staff clocked me in the back after taking out one, two, three IPC with my baseball bat, a jolt running up my spine from the active orange staff-end striking against me. It made my tumble out of the way a bit janky, rolling to a crouch right as a bullet struck the tile a bit too close to me and I looked up to see more IPC pouring in from the lounge exits.

“Put your hands in the air!” multiple IPC shouted, barely coherent over the chatter of their fellows who barked out commands and orders.

"Fucking- this place is supposed to be relaxing!" I rolled and sprinted between tables and pillars as a barrage of bullets came towards both the cowboy and I. Running behind a pillar I did a hard pivot to run back out on the same side to catch the IPC off guard, able to weave through and hit a few. "I don't think I've relaxed the entire fucking time I've been at this stupid hotel!

“In the month or so I’ve been cognizant,” a wall of yellow almost slammed into me, yelping as I barely managed to jump up in time to tumble over one of the large bot shields instead of being slammed by it and chucked across the room as it swung at me. I tried to distance myself from it for now, wacking a rifleman on the head as I ran by. “-we’ve gotten two days without fighting or dealing with stupid diplomacy! MAYBE!”

Tumbling beneath another swinging staff, I bounced back to my feet and spun around to conduct an arc of crackling energy behind me to throw back the nearest IPC, three dropping to the ground and one flinching as a residual spark lashed out at them. I almost slammed into a wall of metal as I spun around to keep running, about to raise my bat to swing at them before realizing it was the cowboy I'd stumbled into, firing off an entire round of bullets at the crowd with audible success.

"Quit yappin'!" the cowboy growled, flicking his pistol to the side to empty the chamber of empty shells that clattered on the tile. His tone was gruff but he was looking way too pleased about the fight prolonging. "Or you'll find yerself diggin' your own grave!"

"I'll bitch in the middle of a fight if I want," I retorted, gaze flicking from looking up at the cowboy towards more movement. A grunt rushed forward to try and take advantage of the cowboy quick reloading, and I saw him shift to probably give another kick to the IPCs skull but I darted around him and swung upwards to clock them in the jaw. “It’s cathartic! Heads up!”

The IPC fell back to the ground and I used the cowboy as a bit of a pillar to move around, backpedaling to avoid another staff swing from a grunt that was promptly shot.

“Nice shot,” I complimented the cowboy before running out from his reach again. I started getting into a good flow of rushing off, smacking a few IPC and then either finding my next target or kiting someone around for the cowboy to take out. Anyone who tried to bumrush me or run away had to deal with a bullet, and anyone who tried to get too close to the cowboy earned a fast pass for a bat to the face.

Something felt off the longer the fight went on, but I ignored it in favor of surviving. I was definitely kind of tired and I’d be sore after this, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t dealt with.

One of the larger bots lumbered towards the cowboy with its shield raised, blocking the bullets that were fired off in its direction. Narrowing my focus onto it, I hit a couple grunts on the way as I dashed towards it, jumping on a nearby pool table to jump high enough to jump over the robots shield. I focused on my bat and channeled as much energy as I could into it, swinging it down on top of its head as I landed on its back.

The entire thing spasmed beneath me as its carapace dented from the impact and energy crackled through it, overloading its system. My eyes widened a little as I realized what the off feeling that was growing was, thinking that I was incredibly lucky to have lasted this long but also thinking that now was the WORST time for this to happen any minute.

“Uh, hey, cowboy!” I shouted down, hopping off the robot as it fell forward. A grunt tried to intercept me but I beat them off with a “Fuck off, dude, I’m busy!” as I trotted up to another group near the cowboy and started wacking them. “Uh, cowboy?”

“Kind of busy shootin’ sons of nice ladies, small-fry!” the cowboy replied, firing off a couple more shots before looking towards me. “Whaddya need?”

“So, I kind of have this… condition,” I hesitantly answered, grabbing a pool ball and smacking it with my baseball bat into the mask of an IPC grunt.

“Wha- are you forkin’ kiddin’ me?!” he snapped with an anger that caught me entirely off guard and would have led to me getting bodied if he didn’t shoot at the IPC nearest to me. “You wanna talk about some kind of forking terms and conditions while we’re in the middle of a muddle-fudging battle with IPC shirt-for-brains?!”

“What? No- No, what the fuck are you talking about? I’m talking about, like, medical conditions.”

“Aw shucks, ma bad.” The cowboy went from angry to apologetic fairly fast, though his voice was still tense as he continued firing. “Could yer condition wait until after we handle these forkers?”

“I don’t think so,” I replied, wacking another grunt. I felt mildly useless trying to stay relatively close to the cowboy because IPC was thinning around him, but I also didn’t want to charge out and get stepped on. I could feel my chest strain more as the Stellaron struggled to maintain my current size.“Unless you happen to have some Antimatter on you, which I highly doubt-.”

“Antimatter?” the cowboy asked in surprise.

“-then I’m just gonna need you to catch me before I hit the ground any minute now,” I finished, distracted trying to gauge the cowboy’s reaction. I didn’t notice the sound of footsteps that were closer than any of the other footsteps in the room, yelping when a sudden massive surge of electricity jolted through my side. With a fair amount of difficulty, I swung out at the grunt who hit me with a staff with an explosive charge of energy through the conduit of my bat.

It knocked them away successfully and allowed me a couple seconds for my body to handle the electrical charge going through it, but I both felt and saw that the Stellaron had reached its limit of maintaining my form, a couple of stray arcs of energy dissipating from my fingertips and bat glitching before disappearing from my grasp.

“Wuh oh.”

Like a star collapsing on itself, I yelped as one last burst of energy flared out from my body like a flashbang, finding myself only a couple inches tall a few feet in the air as my form collapsed and shrunk into my centerpoint.

“Shit,” I exclaimed, bracing myself to impact the tile floor below. It was a survivable fall due to my durability, but it definitely wouldn’t be a pleasant one, knowing from personal experience with a lot of soreness and bruising. However I found myself stopping short of the ground, hitting an arguably harder surface as I was scooped from the air in a metal hand. I was a bit dazed from the impact, not very helped by the cowboy being naturally loud.

“Well, holy forkeroni,” the cowboy said, grey and red eye zeroed in on me in his palm as I sat up. His attention was briefly pulled away and I was jostled as he spun and fired off a couple rounds while dodging a few IPC bullets. “That all ya got, you shirt-for-brains?! Yer ‘bout knee-high to a grasshopper, small-fry!”

“I- sure? I guess? Is there anywhere around where you could either put me down or maybe just get out of here,” I asked, trying to shake off the vertigo and look around to find a safe spot or clear route for him but he was moving too much for me to see well.

“Not with all these forkers ‘round, and I need both my darn hands to fudging deal with ‘em. Tch, hang on.”

“Al-right!” The last half of the word was a yelp as his hand lifted suddenly, making my stomach drop and causing a wave of dizziness as the force messed with the blood flow to my head. Blinking it away, my vision was once more shifted as I was tossed a brief moment into something. The sudden sequence of motion and change in scenery had me instinctively manifesting my baseball bat again, stopping the area around me from closing.

Gravity shifted around me again as I barely managed to hold onto my bat with one hand, my left shoulder straining as all my weight came down on it, falling from whatever small, dark area I'd nearly been tossed into. It wasn't until I noticed the two rows of massive, sharp teeth on either side of my bat and heard the surprised noise from the cowboy that I realized he'd just tried to toss me in his mouth.

“Aeon ‘arn it, ‘all-’ry! Ah-n ‘ryna ‘elp ya,” the cowboy mumbled loudly around the baseball bat currently locking his jaws open. His left hand was cupped beneath me, poised to catch me if I fell, and I saw fingers twitch like he was debating how to go about this.

Well, if I'd been given any sort of heads up, I wouldn't have ended up panicking as much as I had. There'd been an odd abundance of me being put in mouths, but this was probably the most chaotic and fast-paced to date.

“Nngh, hold on,” I said, trying to pull myself up enough to grab the bat with my right hand. Extremely difficult with him still running. A noise escaped my throat as his hand surged upwards, uncertain to what he was doing as I felt the tips of his index, middle, and thumb fingers press against my back.

My world blurred as the cowboy suddenly halted on his heel and spun to avoid what I could only guess was a swing from a staff from the streak of grey and orange that streaked by. In the simultaneous moment that a gunshot went off so close that it could only be from the cowboy I found my grip forced from the baseball bat as the fingertips against my back pinched the back of my hoodie and yanked me from the two walls of teeth that were now below as I was lifted from the cowboy’s face.

With the most still thing in comparison to everything else being the cowboy, it was incredibly easy for me to focus on his jaws as they snapped shut around my tiny baseball bat, the manifestation shattering between the shark teeth and dissipating into cosmic sparks.

I caught a brief glimpse of the cowboy smiling before he opened wide again and I found myself popped inside before I could really process anything past the daze of being jostled around so much. In fact, it was almost a relief when the pseudo-bone clicked close behind me, allowing me a reprieve from the chaos of being dangled around and shot at.

It was warm and humid with the tongue beneath me surprisingly soft considering the mechanical nature of its host. It wasn't offensively pungent but the space smelt of oil, grease, and other more chemical scents that brought to mind repairing robots in Belebog.

Something clung to me like saliva, likely some kind of lubricant.

I was expecting some amount of tasting or slickening up considering that was necessary - to a point - so that whoever was eating me wouldn’t end up choking on me. But, I guess it wasn’t needed for the cyborg because I instantly found the space around me tilting.

“A-Ack, give me a mom-ent,” I yelped out as the tongue flexed beneath me in preparation for the imminent swallow, squashing me flat against the roof of his mouth. I was barely given a split second as the tongue pushed me back and I felt the throat entrance seize around my ankles in a gulp.

I'm not even sure if his throat actually made the sound of the swallow around me or if it was just a habitual noise from his voice box, carrying a slightly robotic undertone like when he spoke.

As I was pulled into the embrace of his gullet, it felt bizarrely close to being eaten by, for lack of a better term, an organic person. Whatever material that lined his throat was just as claustrophobic as a normal esophagus and almost as pliable as actual flesh. From what little I could gather from the small amount of exposed skin I had, it felt like some sort of rubber.

The cowboy didn't reply to me and I was barely out of his mouth when he exhaled around me with a gruff growl, my surroundings rumbling as he shouted, “‘lright, you muddle-fudgers! Let's forkin’ finish this!”

He was, understandably, far more concerned with fighting the remaining IPC. However, I feel like my ears would have burst if I had been a normal human.

“Which one of you shirt-bags wants to be first in line for a bullet?!”

I felt his body shift and twist chaotically as I slipped past what constituted his collarbone, everything muffling a bit from layers of metal and whatever a mechanical creature would count as internal organs. It was definitely surreal.

It got warmer the deeper I was pulled down like the insides of someone organic, but less slimy or stuffy. Instead of slipping past a beating heart and the breathing of lungs, the somewhat muffled chaos outside overplayed with the sound of whirring fans and mechanical parts shifting against each other as the cowboy moved erratically.

It wasn't long before I was ejected from the relative sturdiness of his esophagus. I didn't realize how much the cowboy was running and dodging until I slipped into a small chamber and immediately started being bounced around the space like a ping pong ball.

Fortunately, it seemed like the walls were made of the same flexible material at his throat. Unfortunately, the space wasn't completely empty. I felt other… bits bounce around with me, unable to make heads or tails of any of it while essentially inside the living bouncy house.

I'm not sure how long I spent tumbling around as the cowboy shouted mother-sanctioned insults at the IPC and fired shot after shot while I can only assume backflipping the entire time based on how much I was being shaken. Eventually, everything stopped and I was flopped onto the floor of the chamber. I felt like I was going to get bruises in places where I didn't even think bruises were possible.

“Ah, hell. You aight in there, small-fry?” I was pulled from my dazed stupor by one side of the chamber being pushed in slightly and the cowboys voice above. For someone who, in the minutes I'd known him, seemed reckless and unabashedly brazen he actually sounded a bit sheepish. “Reck’n I prolly shook you up more than the tail end of a rattler.”

“You’re fine,” I replied, slowly pushing myself off the floor of the chamber. Something gritty clung to my hands with the help of lubricant and whatever other small puddle of liquid that shared the space with me. I flicked my hands in instinctive disgust to try and get rid of the feeling.

“You're takin’ this pretty well.”

“This ain't the first time I've been eaten,” I sighed as I mustered the energy to summon a spark to take stock of my surroundings now that I wasn't tumbling around everywhere. “Definitely the most chaotic though.”

“What the fridge? I woulda thought that your biggest concern woulda been finding yerself under some ash-voles boot,” I felt the space begin to shift and sway as I looked around, probably from him starting to walk or something. The walls were dark gray and seemed to be made of the same rubbery material as his throat, and around me was a thin coating of some kind of thick, grainy, gray substance that had the glint of metal scattered around.

That explained the shallow cuts I could see on my hands now.

“I can't say that being stepped on hasn't been a concern,” I replied, frowning in confusion at the gritty stuff around me. Spurred on by curiosity I ran my finger through the substance and gave it a cautious sniff. I'd noticed the somewhat pungent scent permeating the space but wasn't able to recognize what it was until I got a closer smell. Dulled by the potent sting of what smelled like malt juice diluted by lubricant, the grains smelt of something that reminded me of explosives, I scrunched my face in confused surprise. “Is this fucking GUNPOWDER?!”

“Mmmhm,” the cowboy let out a pleased hum like remembering a particularly delicious snack. “Nine millimeter, baby. Had a couple earlier. Might sorry ‘bout the clutter, but didn't exactly have time to clean house before fighting the muddle-fudgin’ IPC.”

“I… I don't know what I was expecting a cyborg to eat, but it wasn't bullets,” I sighed, cleaning my hand off on my jacket. “Eh, whatever. Can you let me out and help me get to the Astral Express please?”

“Ehhh,” the space tilted and squished a little, only able to assume that he crouched down. Guessing the guys habits, I wouldn't be surprised if he was seeing if any of the IPC had anything worthwhile on them. “I can take you to your train, but ya might need a mechanic.”

“Wait, what? Why?” I asked, frowning in confusion.

“‘Cause I can't just make myself vomit on command,” the cowboy replied, able to feel him stand up. “So unless your folks have a mechanic or something to make me spit ya out, we might be stuck up a shirt creek without a paddle until I come across another mechanic.”

I blinked in the dark space, part of me appalled at the news. However, this was weirdly enough also not my first time stuck inside someone who couldn't just cough me up considering Sampo.

“Please, for the love of the Aeons, just get to the train and find Dan Heng.”

#cinnwrites #g/t #safe vore #soft vore #g/t vore #nova #honkai star fail #boothill

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