Mutual Relationships ch. 0 (Soft Vore, Micro/Macro)

Chapter 0: Flashes and Glows

>You look back into the archives of your mind, and you see a young parasite.
>They're smaller. Less mature. Less experienced than you are.
>And they've yet to learn your number one rule about picking a good host.
>You.
>Don't.
>Go.
>For.
>Unicorns.
>Not ones that are mature enough to have developed magic powers, at the VERY least.
>While the average unicorn's magic can easily be defended against, you never know when you'll find that one that is so experienced she can pull bullshit like flip gravity and turn back time.
>It's happened to you before, and you've never been the same since.

-----

>Words.
>Back then, you didn't understand the point of written language.
>At this point you had barely learned the ponies' spoken language, which already was a jumbled mess of contradictions.
>To you, learning how to turn those spoken words into scribbles and back was just overcomplicating things.
>Why make life harder for yourself like that?
>So, while reading lots of books is generally considered a sign of intelligence, you took it as the opposite.
>That's why you knew that when you saw the pile of words, the pony that lay her head on top of it was your next target.
>It was purple, magical, sleeping, and, as far as you were concerned, it was an idiot.

>It started off normally.
>You stuck your head into her lips and quickly slipped through her jaws.
>The sleeping giant subconsciously licked you all over, obviously enjoying the treat.
>Her mouth instinctually began to fill with saliva, giving you a slick, warm coat to ease your trip down.
>You always did, and still do, enjoy it when the host enjoys you, because it makes the trip down easier AND more enjoyable.
>You took a moment to enjoy the short amount of time you get to spend in the mouth, laying on the mattress that was her tongue, before eventually diving headfirst into the abyss.
>Her swallowing helped you along the warm, fleshy tube until you reached an opening into a small, yet comfortable sack.
>A hot, steamy liquid secreted from the walls of the stomach, leaving you to relax similar to that of which one would relax in a hot tub.
>That's basically what it was for you, just a hot tub where food would fall from the ceiling whenever you asked for it.
>Except better, because the stomach churned around you, rocking you like a mother would rock a baby to sleep, while singing a lullaby of a beating heart, breathing lungs, and the gurgles of digestion.
>That's the thing about your life, it's primarily filled with extreme highs and extreme lows, and rarely anywhere in between.
>You could definitely say at the time you were up in the highs, but as you know far too well now, that didn't continue for long...