Raptor Roll

Don't ever tell a minidrake with size-changing magic that you think a "raptor roll" sounds good, especially if you are a raptor. Otherwise, this might happen.

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With a bit of magic shi adjusts sizes such that now you're just an inch or two tall, and shi is exactly the height you were just a few moments ago. You find yourself lying on a bed of warm, sticky rice. Shira grins and licks hir muzzle, then takes one end of that and starts rolling it over you until you're caught in the middle of the freshly-formed roll. With the stickiness of the rice it's hard to even squirm, let alone to have a chance of actually getting out. You feel a slight pressure at your sides before you feel yourself being lifted into the air. Below, you see a small (though to you it's the size of a child's swimming pool!) container of brown liquid... soy sauce.

You're dunked into the fluid once or twice, causing it to soak into the rice around you and further left in a daze. By the time your vision fully clears, you're staring right into the cool and uninviting maw of the ice drake. Shi takes a moment to lick directly over your face - covering it in cold, slimy saliva - before just laughing right in your face. "By now you should know better than to give me ideas like that," shi says, before your 'raptor roll' is deposited on hir waiting tongue.

Shi starts to chew.

You cannot even move as those teeth go to work. You cannot see anything at all. You don't even feel anything but the intense cold until the dragoness bites down on you, neatly severing your legs just below your hips. The cold of hir mouth is so severe that it freezes the blood almost instantly, though, saving you from bleeding out as shi continues to chew. You're thrown this way and that on hir tongue as shi eats, but you're somehow kept out from between hir teeth even as that half-eaten food smashes against your body.

Then, nothingness.

Shi waits a brief moment before shi swallows, sending you into hir throat like you're just another morsel of hir meal. On the way down you're violently compressed by hir throat as it works over you, helping to pop joints out of place and snapping a couple of ribs. It's impossible to even breathe as you're taken toward hir stomach, leaving you wishing you could still inhale the foul-smelling air you had just a few moments ago. There's no way of telling where you are, but after what seems like forever you're sent though an even tighter sphincter - which further mashes your body - and you're left in hir mostly-empty stomach. There's no biting acid, but instead just a thick slime that coats your bruised scales, oozing into your wounded body. You're going to be here for the rest of your life, however short that might be, and you can only hope that you pass out from shock before the worst of digestion begins.