The Tally Hall members were relaxing backstage after their sold-out show. Joe, Rob, and Zubin were chatting about the performance when an idea popped into Joe's head. He glanced over at Rob, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
 
"Hey Rob, I've got a proposition for you," Joe said with a grin. "How about you crawl into my mouth? I promise I won't bite... hard."
 
Rob blinked in surprise. "Uhh what? Joe, that's so weird. Why would I do that?"
 
"Come on, it'll be fun!" Joe cajoled. "Imagine the view from up there. And if you're worried, just remember - I'm a professional."
 
Rob hesitated, still unsure. But Joe's playful enthusiasm was hard to resist. "Alright, but this is a one-time thing, got it? And if you try anything funny, I'm gonna punch my way outta there!"
 
"Scout's honor!" Joe held up his hands in mock innocence.
 
Rob sighed and shrugged. "Fine, whatever. One quick trip to Joe's gullet and that's it." He climbed up onto Joe's chest and shimmied his way into the waiting mouth.
 
"Mmm, you taste like nacho cheese," Joe mumbled around his friend. "So good!"
 
Rob grunted in response, already feeling the powerful muscles of Joe's throat start to undulate around him, squeezing and kneading his body. It was warm and tight in there, and the air quickly grew stale.
Rob knew he was in for a wild ride.
 
Meanwhile, Zubin had picked up his guitar and started strumming a new tune, the opening chords of an as-yet untitled song. As his fingers danced along the frets, a melancholy melody began to take shape.
 
Soft at first, then growing in intensity, Zubin let the music wash over him, pouring his soul into the strings. The lilting notes filled the backstage room, an aural tapestry of sorrow and longing.
 
Joe listened intently, his eyes closed in appreciation, as he slowly swallowed Rob deeper into his esophagus. With each gulp, he felt his friend's body slide further down, squeezing through the tight fleshy tunnel.
 
"Mmm, yeah, that's it," he rumbled, shuddering with sensation. "I wish you could hear this from in there, Rob. It's sublime."
 
Rob could only moan in reply, the sound muffled by the thick walls of Joe's throat. He was packed in tight now, folded up like a pretzel as he was squeezed into Joe's stomach.
 
The wet, churning walls began to eagerly massage Rob's body, tugging at his clothes and shoes. Enzyme-rich digestive fluids sloshed around him, starting to break down the outer layers of his skin.
 
Rob whimpered as he felt himself melting away, dissolving into the gloopy slurry of Joe's gut. He tried to struggle but it was too late. His muscles gave out and he succumbed to the inevitable, letting himself be digested into nutrient-rich mush.
 
As Zubin hit the crescendo of his song, Joe let out a low groan, the vibrations making his belly wobble. "Ah, perfect, so perfect," he sighed, savoring the last shreds of Rob. "What a performance."
 
Zubin looked over and smiled, noting Joe's blissed-out expression and swollen stomach. "Glad you enjoyed it, Joe. I was hoping to catch you in the mood for some inspiration."
 
"Oh, you did," Joe said dreamily, still basking in the afterglow. "That was better than any post-show snacks."
 
The two shared a knowing look as the backstage quieted down around them, the music fading away into memory, an accompaniment to Rob's final duet with Joe's insides.