On the docks of New York city there was a special houseboat docked on the pier, home to several dogs and one cat. Oliver was the latter's name, little more than a year old at this point and already well known in the city as the cat who had defeated Fagin and his ferocious dogs. He had little to fear as he slept inside the houseboat, or so he thought.
The small feline twitched in his sleep as a most unpleasant dream surfaced in his unconscious mind, one of gnashing teeth and strange furred hands reaching out to grab him, the small body of the feline jerking awake in fright just before they pulled him apart.
"What a strange dream" he thought as he shivered a little and looked around the empty stillness of the boat "And Dodger isn’t back yet, I hope he's alright..." Usually when he had a bad dream like that one Dodger was the one he went to for comfort, but right now little Oliver was on his own. His adoptive dog father and the gang were out prowling the city tonight and Fagin wasn’t home yet either, it was just Oliver and the distant sounds of late night New York city.
The cat crawled out of his basket and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the boat. "No good, can't go back to sleep" he thought "maybe a walk would help." He was starting to get worried about Dodger and the gang, they never stayed out this late and his imaginative mind was already concocting worrying visions of what might have happened to them. "Probably best not to worry" Oliver corrected himself and began walking towards the deck for some fresh air. But after trekking only a few steps the cat froze in his tracks and stared straight ahead.
In front of him was a box, one of the many that Fagin held as storage, but this one was new, lime green and heavy, half opened on its side with a furry mound inside of it. And the mound was making noises, small grunts that sounded almost like snores. “w-who?” Oliver thought to himself, watching what he now realised was the stomach of that strange creature rise and fall with each unconscious breath, nose twitching in order to figure out what it was. Feline for sure, with large claws, sharp teeth and golden fur, it looked to be only a young specimen as well although at Oliver's size that made little difference. The thing was huge in comparison to him and the cat would be able to do little to protect himself if it pounced.
“I have to get out of here” he thought with rising panic but before he could even take a step backwards the creature snorted awake and began to stir from its sleep. No escape now...all Oliver could do now was hope it didn't see him as a snack.
The beast in question was actually a lion cub by the name of Simba who had fallen asleep in one of the crates that had been left quite carelessly near the water and carried across the ocean on a huge boat, eventually ending up in the depths of Fagin’s houseboat with lots of other smuggled cargo. and now he was beginning to awake in a very strange area. Simba blinked his eyes to wash away the sleep, a slight trepidation forming in his tone as he realised that he wasn’t in Pride Rock anymore.
“Where am I?” The lion thought and looked about, not even noticing the little cat initially and instead focusing on figuring out his situation “this isn't home, seems like a human settlement judging by the smell of pollution and...”
He turned his attention to Oliver's shivering form, giving off quite an enticing scent of prey, feline and fear that was already beginning to override the panic forming in Simba's mind. The lion cub had quite a one track mind after all and already his belly was beginning to rumble at this delicious smell. “Hello?” he called out with an innocent grin forming on his face, making Oliver jump with surprise and fear as he realised that his quite poor attempt at hiding in plain sight hadn't worked “I think I'm lost, do you know where we are?”
The cat stood up a little and stared fearfully as the lion advanced closer to him, massive paws padding on the ground and nose twitching slightly to drink up Oliver's lovely scent. “we're on a b-boat, I live he-” He stopped again when Simba's tongue slid from his hiding place and slurped across his little cheek, the lion letting out a little pleasured rumble that sent shivers down Oliver's spine. “mmmmm, a boat?” the larger feline replied with a smack of his lips “Guess I'll be here for a while then, got any food, little cat?” he let the words hang in the air for a moment to taunt Oliver, making it very clear what he intended to do to him.
The prey decided to play along, hoping to feign innocence until Dodger came back. “I'm not sure but there should be stuff in the f-fridge, some meat....w-what do you usually eat?” the cat stammered and backed away from the towering presence of Simba, staring as the lion licked his chops. That tongue sliding across shiny white teeth sharp enough to tear Oliver apart if Simba so desired. “I like animals” the lion eventually said after a moment of thinking “wriggling, live creatures just like you. Funny how things work out, right? You know, I think i’ll skip all that human fridge business and just….eat you.”
Before Oliver could run the lion finally pounced on him with a low roar, knocking the terrified mammal to the ground and trapping him beneath huge paws, Oliver looking up into the hungry jaws as saliva dripped down in clumps and splashed onto his face. “no! Keep away from me” He hissed but obviously it was a little late for that “don't eat me, I'm t-too thin, and I don't taste good anyway! I swear...”
“Oh I beg to differ” Simba laughed and bent down to gnaw on Oliver's right paw for a moment, loud and exaggerated purrs erupting from his throat “you taste delicious, sweet and pampered but with a nice raw kick to you, very lovely.”
Oliver was also painfully aware that he had gotten quite fat over the past few months of spending the weekends with Jenny who had a tendency to feed him copious amounts of cat food marinated in rich sauces, and as a result a nice layer of pudge now ran around the feline’s small form making him look soft, filling. Even if the cub wasn't as hungry as he was he still would of had little Oliver for dinner, the cat was simply much too cute and flavourful for his own good. A perfect little ball of tender meat wrapped up in a coat of orange fur.
Simba bent down and leered over the quivering feline beneath, letting his hot breath wash over Oliver's face and fill him with the scent of previously digested meals, oxen, some zebra and a mole or two but no house cats yet. Oliver would be the first of his kind to receive such a royal treatment. “smell that?” Simba chuckled “that'll be you in a few minutes, melted down and turned into pudge just like everything else I've eaten. Don't worry about your friends though, I'll be sure to eat them as well, or at the very least leave them a little present to let them know what happened to you. Maybe a skull or a little pile of digested cat, but you won’t be around to see that i’m afraid.”
Before Oliver could answer, the lion opened up his jaws as wide as they could go and gave the little kitty a view of his crimson oesophagus pulsating greedily with the tongue flicking over those white lion teeth to beckon him inside. “Time to go, Oliver” Simba grinned, eyes flicking down to that little collar and finally learning his prey's name in the process, not that he cared much. To him Oliver was only one thing, a plump little snack that right now was squirming wildly and crying out for help that simply wouldn't come in time and Simba intended to savour him for all he was worth.
Positioning his nose under Oliver's chin the lion quickly threw the screaming feline high up into the air, backing up a little with his jaws as the cat fell right into them just barely missing the teeth which jutted up like stalactites eager for a chance to sink into his soft flesh.
“Stop!” Oliver cried, legs kicking behind him in an attempt to find some ground to stand on, sensitive feline eyes picking up glints of light that shone through and illuminated the lion's maw in a flurry of crimson and saliva. The pampered cat hated being wet and now he was drenched in smelly drool, that tongue slapping and slurping over his crying head and turning his pleas into muffled gurgles and frantic coughs, all the while sucking up his flavour for Simba to enjoy. this was horrible And it would only get worse if the beast managed to gulp him down, “I don't wanna be melted” Oliver cried as he remembered what the lion had said “stop, eating, me!”
But Simba didn't listen, much too occupied with the lovely feeling of devouring a live and wriggling animal. He'd only tried eating his prey whole with skinny moles and never with something quite as big, or as tasty, as Oliver. “mmmm, you're so juicy...” he purred with genuine affection, sucking and gnawing on the creature struggling to escape his jaws while drool splashed onto the ground below, jutting his muzzle forward to take in more of the cat's succulent meat. Oliver certainly wasn't the thin, half-started thing he'd tried to claim he was, on the contrary he was actually quite plump, Simba's canines jutting into the squishy fat present on his chest without breaking skin. And he hadn't even gotten to the stomach yet, that would certainly be fun but Simba had no intention of rushing this meal, instead deciding to take his time and give the cat time to mull over his eventual fate inside that rolling, foul lion gut churning eagerly for his arrival.
After a good bit of sucking, nibbling and slathering another gulp brought Oliver's forepaws and stomach into Simba's furry muzzle, the rest of him staring down the darkness of that tight oesophagus that seemed much too small for his form to fit through. Oliver desperately hoping that Simba had bitten off more than he could chew and would choke on the kitten, after which Dodger would show up and pull him out where they could then rejoice over a rug made of African feline. But Simba seemed to have other ideas as he attacked that soft belly with his tongue and teeth, loving the squishiness of the cute cat's layers of fat, feeling some bumps present there which seemed to indicate Oliver had eaten dinner only a short time ago. Soon that food would belong to the lion cub just like the rest of him, nothing more than food stewing in a hot lion gut. There would be no escape for Oliver.
“Scream all you want kitten” Simba grinned around his furry meal “no one's going to hear you, except me.” and he had to admit the cries for help were a little bit empowering, the sadistic side of the big cat loving the idea of turning this normally proud creature into a snivelling wreck, only able to curse Simba for preying on his weakness.
One more gulp and all that remained of Oliver was a twitching tail and a pair of hind paws sticking out of the proud cub's mouth, tongue flicking over those salty pads and twisting around those slender legs, Simba clearly taking his time in finishing off his meal. “He looks much better as a bulge” the lion thought and lifted a paw to feel the one in his throat, audible whimpers leaking out and vibrating slightly with the weak wriggles of the juicy feline within. The tip of Oliver's muzzle had now broken through the stomach sphincter, giving him quite a noseful of the foul smell and roasting air wafting upwards. The scents of many passed meals taunting the cat and letting him know what lay in store for him when Simba took that final swallow.
“Don't swallow!” Oliver cried out one last time “I swear you'll regret it, my gang will find and then y-you'll be sorr-oh, just don't do it!” his cry turning into a whimper, unsure if the unruly cub could even hear him at this point and barely able to even open his muzzle enough to shout for help. Oliver just wanted to get out of this hot, tight tube in any direction that wasn't down where the bubbling broth of digestive juices waited eagerly for a chance to get at his soft, smooth cat meat. But then a rumble echoed out from all around Oliver's body and he felt himself shift down, then stop, then move again and quickly slip through that tight ridge of muscle that separated him and the belly. The full body of the plump feline sliding through the thick entrance to the stomach, curling up inside with no chance of escape now it would seem.
After Oliver plopped into his belly with a sickening *squelch*, Simba rolled onto his back and rubbed the bulge in his stomach where the cat lay, already stewing in digestive juices and beginning to paw at the walls. “You might as well stop fighting” the lion giggled to himself with a quick nuzzle of his belly “it isn’t going to do you any good.”
But the cat didn’t listen and continued to struggle, whimpering and writhing around as the digestive juices soaked into his fur and began to burn under his skin, the tight stomach beginning to contract quite painfully around him to churn him up into a much more easily digestible package. “Please” he screamed as loud as he could, continuing to weakly claw at those walls and searching desperately for a way out “let me go! I'll do anything...” but the lion didn’t respond, too full of succulent cat meat and pride to even entertain his food's plea, instead listening to it get drowned out by the gurgling and churning of a happy stomach working hard to digest all the meat put into it. Over the next few minutes the cat's cries were reduced to nothing but distant whimpers and his struggling to little bulges on Simba's taut stomach, and then silence as the last of the imprints smoothed out. Leaving behind a neatly fattened and happy stomach gurgling out a song as it worked hard to digest the processed slurry that was once Oliver.
“Ahh, what a lovely meal that was” the lion cub grinned to himself and smacked his lips for the last remnants of flavour, spending the next hour or so slurping his chops and stroking his full belly as it continued to work away at the feline within. Oliver had been such a smart and happy animal, one of the most distinguished and famous cats in the city but one tussle with a lion and now he was nothing. Just a big hunk of meat slowly working its through Simba’s digestive system.
In time the lion would lean back up with two hands on his still fat belly, looking around and pondering what his next move would be. “Let’s see” Simba thought as he pushed a jutting piece of bone in his belly into a more comfortable positionI”I fell asleep in one of those big wooden boxes, that's how I ended up here...So maybe I should just hide in another one and hope it takes me back home, it’s really the only chance I have. Don’t suppose I could ask the cat’s friends for help anymore, they wouldn’t be too happy to see me.” Indeed Oliver had mentioned having a gang and with the thick smell of dog hanging in the air Simba was eager to get away from this place before they came back to find no Oliver and a fat, happy lion. It wouldn’t take them long to piece together that puzzle. “Really it's his fault anyway for being such a fat, delicious piece of meat, but I don’t suppose they’ll see it like that” the cub grinned before getting up and making his way outside, but after walking a few steps he came to a sudden stop, a huge burst of pressure building up in his gut.
“wha-wha-ougghh!” He groaned huffed before a massive rumble echoed up from his stomach and travelled upwards the same route Oliver that had gone down, exiting as a huge belch that erupted from the lion cub's jaws and practically shook the houseboat around him. “UUURRRPPP” He lifted his head up and roared out Oliver’s final song, saliva spraying everywhere and the cat's little blue collar flying out of his jaws to end with a *splat* on the other side of the room. The lion, being a child, couldn't help but lift his muzzle and sniff the air with a prideful smile on his face as his nose filled with the lovely scent of digesting feline, sizzling fat and that familiar ham-like scent that every burp seems to have.
Giggling a little, Simba stalked over to that steaming lump of remains lying on the floor of Fagin's houseboat and examined it, his cruel catty side loving the idea of leaving a little present for Oliver's friend to find when they returned. “heh, when they left he was a full, plump little housecat” Simba grinned “now look at him, nothing more than a pile of bones and fur...much better frankly.” He moved his muzzle closer and nosed that blue collar, half-melted and foul smelling, sitting in a pool of stomach acids with the other remnants of Oliver. Furry pieces of orange fur, some cracked bones including a steaming cat skull, a blue collar that he'd loved and a puddle of juices were all that remained of the little kitty now, the rest of him making its way through Simba's body to be deposited in the African savannah in a much different form the next day. And of course the fat which would form a layer of plumpness around Simba's belly once it was completely finished with Oliver, that was something the lion would certainly remember as it would make him quite chubby and earn him the mockery of Nala until he finally managed to burn it off chasing rats.
“I should get going” The lion cub realised, stepping over his little present with a final lick of his lips, before leaving the houseboat and jumping into another crate on another ship nearby. It looked like the one Simba had come in on so he hoped it would get him back home without anyone noticing, the lion cuddling up in the straw and prepared for a very long journey home.
“Least I won't be hungry” Simba smiled nuzzled his now quiet belly before drifting off into a well-deserved sleep, his stomach making occasional rumbles of pleasure as the lion dozed off full, happy and arrogant as every prince should be.
---
Nobody at home would ever quite figure out what had happened to Oliver that strange night, clearly something had eaten him whole but with Sike's Doberman's gone and the house locked from the outside there was no way anyone could have gotten in. It was a mystery to everyone except one, Simba the future king of the pride lands, who made it back home with little hassle and was right now squatting over a small huddle of bushes in the African savannah, squeezing out Oliver's remains in a brown log.
“You smell better as a turd, cuter too” the immature cub giggled and gazed proudly at his work, some white bone remnants and even a few tufts of fur having survived amidst the slimy yet still pretty solid faecal matter. Oliver had clearly had a lot of fibre in him that Simba's body had seen fit to put to good use in disposing of him, but that was all gone now. Nothing remained of Oliver except for the belched up remains his killer had left behind and some lion dung in the middle of Africa, which a quick shake of Simba’s tail sent flying across the air, never to be found whole again. “all gone, I'd love to have more though...” the future king smiled to himself.
Luckily for him there was a human village not too far away from pride rock, full of fat little cats and dogs begging for him to sink his teeth into their plump flesh.
Oliver had been the first to fall into Simba's ravenous belly and not return, but he wouldn't be the last.
