The volcanic valley of Natlan thrummed with life under a sky streaked with ember-like stars. The People of the Springs had outdone themselves for this victory feast, celebrating their triumph over a monstrous Abyss horde that had threatened their lands. Towering bonfires cast a warm, flickering glow over the gathered tribes, illuminating tables laden with sizzling meats, charred peppers, and vats of bubbling cactus brew—a fiery, fermented concoction infamous for its potency. The air buzzed with the rhythm of war drums, the clinking of obsidian goblets, and the raucous laughter of warriors recounting their exploits.
 
At the heart of the celebration lounged Mavuika, the Pyro Archon, sprawled across a throne of woven reeds and polished black stone. Her crimson hair danced like flames in the breeze, glowing faintly at the tips as if kissed by her own Pyro energy. She was clad in her signature outfit: a sleek, black bodysuit that hugged her powerful frame, its plunging neckline framed by fiery red and gold accents that shimmered in the firelight. The suit’s intricate patterns traced along her sides and thighs, flaring into long, dramatic sleeves that billowed like tongues of flame with every gesture. Her thigh-high boots, black with red detailing, clicked against the stone as she shifted, her entire presence radiating untamed power—though tonight, that power was dulled by a drunken haze. She clutched a sloshing goblet in one gloved hand, her cheeks flushed a deep red from hours of guzzling the brew.
 
Around her, the feast swirled in a chaotic symphony of noise and motion, but her attention was fixed on two figures seated close by: Mualani and Kachina, Natlan’s rising stars. Mualani, ever the spirited surfer, balanced a skewer of spicy meat between her fingers, her shark-themed outfit glinting faintly in the firelight. She leaned forward, her voice cutting through the din with a teasing lilt. “Mavuika, you’re gonna regret chugging that stuff! Remember last time? You torched half the training grounds trying to ‘show off’ your fire dance!”
 
The Archon threw her head back and laughed, a deep, booming sound that rolled over the crowd like thunder. Her long sleeves flared dramatically with the motion, catching the light like wings of fire. “Pah! That was a triumph, not a tragedy, Mualani! And this—” She raised her goblet, splashing a bit of the amber liquid onto the ground, “—this is the nectar of victory! I’m the God of War, I can handle a little brew!” She took another long swig, her throat bobbing as she drained the cup, then slammed it down with a CLANK that rattled the table.
 
Kachina, perched beside Mualani, fidgeted with her tiny hands, her drill-shaped hair ornaments swaying as she tilted her head. Her voice was soft, almost lost in the clamor. “Um… maybe you should slow down, though? You’re kinda… swaying a lot…” Her wide eyes flickered with concern, darting between Mavuika’s unsteady posture and the empty goblets piling up around her.
 
Mavuika waved a hand dismissively, her sleeve billowing as she nearly toppled her drink in the process. “Swaying? That’s just me feeling the drums, little one! The rhythm of Natlan flows through me!” She hiccupped loudly, a sharp URP bursting from her lips, carrying a whiff of sour cactus brew and roasted meat. The sound drew a few chuckles from nearby warriors, but most were too engrossed in their own revelry to notice.
 
The Archon grinned, her eyes glassy with intoxication. “Come here, both of you—let’s toast to our triumph!” She gestured grandly, pulling Mualani and Kachina closer with an arm around each of their shoulders. Her grip was warm, almost searing, a testament to the Pyro energy simmering beneath her skin, and her bodysuit creaked faintly as she leaned forward.
 
Mualani smirked, scooting nearer with a playful roll of her eyes. “Fine, but if you set my hair on fire, I’m dunking you in the springs.” Kachina hesitated, then shuffled closer too, clutching her skewer like a tiny shield. “Okay… but just a toast, right?”
 
Mavuika’s grin widened, her teeth glinting ominously in the firelight. “Oh, more than a toast…” Her voice slurred, thick with drink and something darker—a hunger that had been simmering beneath her boisterous exterior all night. The crowd remained oblivious, lost in their songs and dances, as the Archon’s demeanor shifted.
 
“You two,” she mumbled, her words tumbling over each other, “are the pride of Natlan. Strong, brave, delicious—er, dedicated!” She hiccupped again, a wet BURP escaping her, this one tinged with the sharp tang of alcohol and a hint of the peppers she’d devoured earlier.
 
Mualani blinked, then burst into laughter. “Did you just call us delicious? What’s next, you gonna eat us?”
 
Kachina tilted her head, her brow furrowing. “Um… that’s a really weird way to compliment someone, Mavuika…”
 
The Archon’s grin turned predatory, her eyes narrowing as she swayed forward. “Oh, you have no idea…” Before either could react, her hands tightened around their shoulders, her fingers digging in with surprising strength. In one drunken, fluid motion, she lunged, her mouth stretching wide—impossibly wide—and engulfed Mualani’s head with a wet SCHLURP.
 
“Wha—?!” Mualani’s startled yelp was muffled instantly as Mavuika’s lips sealed around her neck. Her arms flailed, knocking over a stack of plates with a CRASH, but the noise blended into the feast’s cacophony. Kachina froze, her eyes widening in abject horror.
 
“M-Mavuika?! What are you doing?!” she squeaked, stumbling backward as she clutched her drill. But the Archon was relentless. With a loud, resonant GULP, she swallowed Mualani’s shoulders, the girl’s form bulging out her throat grotesquely. The sound was thick and wet, a visceral GLORP GLORP that vibrated through the air as Mualani slid deeper.
 
Inside, Mualani thrashed wildly, her muffled voice echoing faintly. “Mmph! Let me out, you crazy—! This isn’t funny!” Her legs kicked outside Mavuika’s mouth, her boots scraping the ground as she fought against the relentless pull.
 
Kachina scrambled to her feet, her tiny frame trembling. “Stop it! You can’t just—!” Her plea was cut off as Mavuika, still working Mualani down her gullet, reached out with her free hand and snagged Kachina by the arm. The smaller girl yelped, tugging futilely against the Archon’s grip.
 
“No, no, little one,” Mavuika slurred around her mouthful, her voice garbled and dripping with saliva. “You’re… hic… next!” With a sloppy SLURP, she yanked Kachina forward, shoving her head into her mouth alongside Mualani’s still-writhing legs. The sight was absurd—Mavuika’s jaw stretched to an unnatural degree, her cheeks bulging as she crammed both girls inside.
 
Kachina’s cries were shrill and panicked. “Help! Somebody—mmph!” Her voice vanished as Mavuika’s lips closed over her, the GLUCK GLUCK of her throat working overtime to accommodate the double meal. Mualani’s feet disappeared with a final GULP, followed by Kachina’s tiny form sliding down in a series of wet, squelching swallows. The Archon’s neck bulged, then smoothed out as both girls tumbled into her stomach.
 
Mavuika slumped back in her throne, her belly ballooning outward into a massive, taut dome that strained against her bodysuit. The black fabric stretched audibly, the red and gold accents warping as her gut swelled. A faint CREAK emanated from the suit’s seams, the zipper down the front pulling taut as her belly sloshed with a low BLORP. She let out a thunderous BUUUUUURP, a deep, rolling belch that shook the air and sent a gust of sour, spicy breath rippling over the table. Plates rattled, and a few nearby warriors glanced over, chuckling before returning to their drinks.
 
“Whew…” Mavuika patted her swollen belly, her grin lazy and lopsided. Her gloved hand brushed against the taut fabric, the red patterns glowing faintly as they stretched over her distended gut. “That… hic… hit the spot.” Her gut gurgled loudly, a wet GRRRRGL that hinted at the chaos within.
 
Inside the hot, sloshing confines of her stomach, Mualani and Kachina were pressed together in a tangle of limbs and panic. The air was thick with the acrid sting of cactus brew, mingled with the bitter tang of digestive juices that dripped from the churning walls. The space was tight, the slick, pulsating flesh squeezing them from all sides with a relentless SQUELCH SQUELCH.
 
“Mualani, what’s happening?!” Kachina whimpered, her voice trembling as she pushed against the slippery walls. A splash of acid sloshed over her, sizzling faintly against her skin.
 
“I don’t know!” Mualani snapped, kicking at the stomach lining with a dull THUD. “She’s lost it! We’ve gotta get out before—ugh, this is disgusting!” Another BLORP rumbled around them as Mavuika shifted, the movement sending a wave of stinging liquid over their heads.
 
Outside, the Archon rubbed her gut absentmindedly, oblivious to their plight. “You two… hic… settle down in there. It’s just a little feast fun!” She leaned back, her long sleeves trailing over the throne’s arms, and let out another BUUUURP, this one wetter and longer, carrying a faint floral note—Mualani’s scent, perhaps—mixed with the overpowering reek of fermented brew. A few warriors cheered, mistaking it for part of the celebration.
 
The digestion kicked in fast, fueled by Mavuika’s Pyro-infused metabolism. Her stomach growled with a series of deep, rolling GRRRRGL GRRRRGL noises, the walls tightening as they churned their contents. Mualani’s struggles grew sluggish, her muffled curses fading into gurgled groans. “You’re… gonna pay for this…” Kachina’s high-pitched squeaks dissolved into silence, overwhelmed by the SIZZLE of melting flesh and the CHURN CHURN of relentless digestion.
 
Mavuika groaned, pressing a hand to her belly as it shrank slightly, the nutrients absorbing into her system. The bodysuit began to relax, the fabric settling back into place with a faint SNAP as the pressure eased. “Oof… you two were a handful…” A low, wet PRRRRT slipped out, a sharp fart that carried the real, earthy stench of digested meat—gamey and rich—mingled with the sour bite of cactus brew and a hint of Mualani’s oceanic essence. She giggled, fanning the air with a lazy hand, her sleeve billowing with the motion. “Whoops… excuse me!”
 
The feast dragged on for hours, the fires burning lower as the crowd thinned. Mavuika’s gut continued to gurgle and shrink, processing her massive meal into a thick, sloshing slurry. By the time the drums fell silent, her belly was a smaller, rounded pouch, still heavy with what remained. The bodysuit now clung to the reduced bulge, the zipper still strained but no longer at risk of bursting. She staggered to her feet, swaying dangerously as she clutched her throne for support. “Time to… hic… take care of the rest,” she muttered, wobbling toward the edge of the grounds. Her thigh-high boots clicked unevenly on the stone, her fiery hair trailing behind her like a comet’s tail.
 
Tucked behind a cluster of jagged volcanic rocks stood the Teyvat Pred Stall, a Natlan oddity designed to reform prey after a predator’s indulgence. It was a sturdy wooden structure, its frame etched with glowing Pyro runes that pulsed faintly in the dark. Mavuika shoved the door open with a CREAK, squeezing her bloated form inside. The space was cramped, the air warm and faintly smoky from the runes’ energy.
 
“Alright, girls,” she slurred, reaching down to unzip the front of her bodysuit with a slow ZIIIP. The fabric parted, revealing her still-rounded belly as she squatted over the enchanted basin. Her long sleeves brushed the floor, and she adjusted her stance, her boots scuffing the wooden planks. “Back you go…” Her gut rumbled ominously, a deep GRRRRGL signaling the start of the disposal.
 
It began with a loud, wet FRRRRRT—a long, brassy fart that echoed off the stall’s walls, releasing a rancid stench of rotting meat and sour brew, thick enough to make the air feel heavy. Mavuika grunted, and a heavy SPLORCH followed as the first wave hit the basin. Mualani’s remains came first, a dark, mushy pile that landed with a series of wet PLAP PLAP SPLAT sounds. The smell was brutal—real and unfiltered—a nauseating mix of digested fish and seaweed from her aquatic nature, blended with the greasy reek of roasted meat and the sharp, vinegary bite of fermentation. Tiny scraps of her shark-themed attire, now soggy and frayed, plopped into the mess, sizzling faintly against the runes.
 
“Ugh, Mualani, you’re a mess,” Mavuika grumbled, her face twisting as another PRRRRT ripped out, this one shorter but wetter, spraying a faint mist of gas that stank of sulfur and decay. She shifted her stance, her boots creaking, and Kachina’s turn came next. The smaller girl’s disposal was softer, a gooey SQUELCH SQUELCH as a lighter, creamier mass slid out. The smell shifted—still foul, but sweeter, like overripe fruit gone bad, with a cloying undertone of melted sugar from her candy-like essence. Bits of her drill ornaments clinked against the basin, dissolving into the glowing runes with a faint TINK.
 
A final push brought a monstrous FRRRRRRRT—a deep, bubbling fart that lingered in the air, reeking of wet earth, sour bile, and a faint metallic tang. The last of the mess hit with a heavy PLOP PLOP, a steaming pile that sent up a cloud of stench—raw, primal, and unmistakably human in its decay. Mavuika sighed, a long FSSSSSSSS hissing out as she finished, the sound tapering into silence. “There we go… all done.”
 
She stood, zipping her bodysuit back up with a ZIIIP that strained slightly over her now-flattened belly. Her sleeves billowed as she stretched, her boots clicking as she stumbled out of the stall, leaving the door ajar. The runes flared brighter, a soft HUMMMM filling the air as the Pred Stall activated. The pile swirled into a vortex of light and energy, the smells dissipating as the magic worked to reform its occupants.
 
Moments later, Mualani and Kachina rematerialized outside, coughing and staggering as their bodies reassembled. Their clothes were rumpled, their hair damp with residual slime, but they were whole again, courtesy of the stall’s power.
 
“Mavuika, you’re a lunatic!” Mualani roared, shaking a fist as she wiped a streak of gunk from her cheek. “What the hell was that?!”
 
Kachina hugged herself tightly, her voice a shaky whisper. “I… I don’t ever want to go through that again… it smelled so bad…”
 
Mavuika turned, swaying on her feet, and flashed a sloppy grin. Her bodysuit gleamed in the faint light, the red accents catching the glow of the runes behind her. “Oh, come now! It’s a Natlan tradition—hic—a little feast fun! You’re fine, aren’t you?” She punctuated her words with a final BUUUURP, the belch carrying a lingering whiff of their combined scents—floral and sweet, undercut by the sour brew.
 
Mualani groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Next time, I’m locking the cactus brew in a vault…”
 
Kachina nodded, her eyes watering. “Y-yeah… no more drinking for her… ever…”
 
As the two trudged back to the dying embers of the feast, the Pred Stall hummed quietly behind them, its runes dimming as it reset for the next use. The night stretched on, the valley falling silent save for Mavuika’s distant laughter as she raised yet another goblet, oblivious to the glares burning into her back.