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Tybalt's New Year Resolved

Part 1: January 1st

"Five! Four! Three! Two! ONE! Happy new year!" The whole room shouted in unison, laughter and the clinking of glasses following shortly after. While most guests were celebrating that the Earth had gone around the Sun another time (or just happy for an opportunity to drink) Tybalt and the party's other feline guests had more of a practical reason to celebrate. Cats' nine lives (at least for domestic cats) were not merely allotted to them for their whole time on the planet; instead, they reset at the end of every year. Meaning that, up to a certain age, they would reappear at the beginning of the year even if they were nine-times-dead beforehand. Tybalt had survived the whole last year, but only barely; he was on his last life before the clock struck midnight. He could feel his shoulders relax as he realized there was no more risk of spending an indefinite time jiggling on someone's waist.

To celebrate, the cat had already found himself a partner, a purple stoat named Blitz, who was shorter than Tybalt but assured him that his guts would be perfectly capable of handling him. As the crowd was engaged in a particularly sloppy rendition of 'Auld Lang Syne', Tybalt found himself traveling face first down the throat of the mustelid who had been standing right behind him, hands on his shoulders, until the clock ticked twelve AM.

Blitz's throat was wet and warm, but not terribly uncomfortable. The champagne acted as a lubricant, letting Tybalt slide effortlessly down into the waiting stomach below (and it made the stoat's insides smell better too!) His toes curled as the sensations of consumption overtook him. For what felt like the first time in forever, he was prey again, and safe too. He shivered as his face passed through the esophageal sphincter, as Blitz's tongue licking all over his underbelly.

With a splash, Tybalt fell headfirst into the pool of stomach juices. Diluted as it was by alcohol, party food, and saliva, it still was quite acidic. Tybalt was quite used to it however, feeling a tingle which served to heighten his pleasure. In an hour or two he would be cat soup, filling up the stomach like water in a cup, totally inseparable from the cake, olives, and wine that currently surrounded him. He mrrowled at the thought, blushing at the humiliation, but clearly enjoying it.

"Huff~ I gotta say Tybalt, you're the best new year's meal I've ever had. Can't think of a better start for 2023 than a stomach full of cat." Blitz said in a teasing, but warm way.

"And I can't think of a better new year's pred than a stoat." Tybalt called out from the belly, barely audible to his pred, "Your belly is so tight."

Blitz smirked, "Ahhh, you're just horny cause of that game." he teased. "Total misplay" he said in a faux-seductive tone, eliciting even more blushy squirming from his feline meal.

As Tybalt squirmed, Blitz showed him off to all the other party guests, who rubbed the cat-bulge, took pictures with him, and expressed both teasing and genuine well-wishes for the new year. Unable to resist the call of clout, The cat just had to make a new years post detailing exactly where he was. At least he had the mindfulness to not check the replies, instead focusing on his rather flustering predicament. All in all, Tybalt couldn't think of a better way to get eaten; if it wasn't his best experience in a stomach yet, it was certainly up there.

He closed his eyes, the warm stomach and wine making him sleepy; as Blitz's heartbeat lulled him to sleep, he dreamt of what the new year would bring.