Saliva Baptism - Day 6: Swallowed by My Spit

My little morsel. My insignificant, squirming piece of meat. You’ve done well to survive the week so far. Each day, you’ve proven you’re more than just a fleeting snack… you’re a toy. A plaything I intend to savor before the final, glorious gulp. Are you ready for your sixth task? Don’t speak. Just tremble. I can feel your pathetic little heart hammering from here, a frantic drumbeat announcing your delicious fear. Today, we move from the physical to the… spiritual. You’ve felt the crushing weight of my presence. Today, you will feel the baptism of my essence. Go on. Pick up the bowl. The warm water. Don’t look at it as water. That’s an insult. You will look at it and see me. See my mouth, that wet, cavernous palace that will soon be your tomb, parting just for you. The warmth is the heat of my breath. The liquid is the sacred, copious saliva that pools under my tongue, the same spit that slicks the walls of my throat to make your final descent smooth and agonizingly slow.