Stand firm and confront whatever is coming!

If you're going to face the unknown you'd rather face it fighting than leap like a coward into a hole and possibly fall to your ****. You draw your sword from your belt and brace your feet on the smooth rocks of the tunnel. The shaking grows and grows. You can feel the vibrations in your very bones.

A massive shape looms out of the darkened tunnel. It is moving at great speed straight towards you, filling the entire height and width of the tunnel to its very limit. As it shudders closer you realize you have made a terrible mistake. It is a massive stone crawler, as big as any you've heard tales of, a huge worm that burrows through the earth and even rock.

You have heard these immense worms once plagued the orcs, emerging from their tunnels during monsoons and destroying entire villages. They are meat-eaters of an indiscriminate sort and as you watch the hideous maw of the stone crawler yawns open. It's full of black hooks and purple tendrils and the smell is terrible.

You have just enough time to scream and swing wildly, slicing one of the purple tendrils in half. Then you feel the hooks biting into your clothes and your skin and the tendrils are dragging you towards the fleshy knot of the beast's throat. Your screaming is muffled as you pass quickly from its fang-filled mouth into its gullet, tight and constricting all around you.

In the darkness you can hardly breathe and the air is extremely hot and foul. The beasts gullet is so tight you have no hope of freeing your hand or kicking your legs. You're coated in a thick slop of foul-smelling mucus. You feel your feet emerge into an opening and the muscular action of the stone crawler's throat swallows you into a chamber that must be its stomach.

The stomach is too small to stand, but you could crawl...if you were allowed a free moment. As soon as you land with a sploosh in a waist deep puddle of digestive juices you feel more tendrils gripping your ankles. Faint light is beaming from red cysts lining the stomach wall and you can see that every surface is covered in pale pink tendrils or purple flower-like sphincters that blurp and hiss and spew out gusts of digestive liquid.

You gasp as the tendrils bite into your flesh, a sting that is at once painful, but also soothing. The tendrils slop over your mucus-covered breasts and drag across your face. More descend from the stone crawler's stomach wall to slide up your thighs, raising bloody scratches, but also pumping more relaxing mucus into your body. You see your sword not far away, but as the thorny tendrils move between your thighs you want nothing more than to remain passive and allow them to do what they will to you.

Your clothing hisses and begins to tear apart like damp paper. Your leather is still holding, but you don't know how long. Where the digestive fluids come in contact with your skin you feel a pleasant warmth and your skin begins to turn red. In the dim and fleshy heat of the stomach you also see other tendrils, longer and darker, moving with a purpose towards your body.

In a haze of pleasure you look to the sword sitting in a pool of stomach juices. You wonder if you have the strength to shake off the tendrils and cut your way to safety.