"Aaaand thanks to KayfaybeBae6 for that donation. Be assured, that one's not going to any Avengers microtransactions. My Kamala's already strong enough."

"YOOOO"

"is that a reference"

"GO BRI"

":D SHO FEET"

Brianna snickered to herself, though the Twitch chat didn't have quite the number of POG messages and KomodoHype emotes as usual. The input display flashed irregularly on stream; a few of the bright colors jolted, and fizzled, before revealing a "lose" screen. She leaned back, stretching so much her gamepad was partially hidden behind her ergonomic chair.

"Really? You-you know guys, I've considered changing mains from Sakura. Yeah, I used to pull off surprises with her - but the meta's gotten so that everyone has a counter. So I'll be--"

Messages flowed one after another, as she went blurry, a loading symbol twirling.

"Change to who?"

"Lag spike"

"Stop using shotos"

"Anyone else getting those connection problems?"

"RARE BLURRY BRI CAMEO"

"That was shaking."

"Where are you?"

"Beat so bad her routor's fizzlin XXDDD"

When her stream came back up, she shook her head. "Urgh, DC'd again? The netcode here is..." A small rumble, like a construction drill - she didn't pay it any mind. "...'where am I?' Yeah, like I'd self-dox." The gamer rolled her eyes.

"THIS IS SERIOUS"

"If you're in Fairview, GTFO"

"news. look at it."

She squinted at the screen, leaning in, and grabbing her mouse. "Which Fairview? I swear, guys, this epic prank of yours-"

Another loading message.

A still frame of the pictures behind her – family photos and themed posters - flying off the walls.

Brianna was launched out of her seat, tumbling into a falling portrait. The rocking around wasn't just a sudden jolt – it continued, making new decorations fall. She needed a second to realize: this wasn't some freak accident. Her apartment room might've been at a higher level, but the structure was built to withstand earthquakes.

This wasn't an earthquake. Earthquakes didn't break the ceiling, sending tiles shooting down from above.

A frozen, blurry action shot came on the stream as she dodged the falling object. The rising dust from the impact made the image unclear; along with the twisted illumination from toppled-over lamps and fallen bulbs from above. The camera setup, too, tilted from a sudden jolt below her.

Her phone. It seemed selfish, but the phone would tell her about any disasters – and let her call someone. She ran for it on the table. As she reached down, a warmth crossed her back.

The next image that made it across to the stream was at a twisted angle, pointed to the ceiling. Above was Bri's hand, reaching for something. Above that, something was reaching for Bri.

Chat continued without their host's input:

"no"

"FUCK!"

"BIG BLUE"

"What's that?"

Four wide, full fingers larger than a human body pierced the once-familiar ceiling – not so much ripping the room apart, as peeling it away with a touch, walls withering back and a wall clock sticking in the whorled flesh. Had it seem her? Brianna instantly took flight, beneath a doorway, switching the stream to her phone.

The screen briefly flashed blue, then went to a shifting redness, from her palm clutching the camera. It displayed the room she was dashing through - dark, shaking, and punctuated by hurried, rapid panting. "Oh God, oh God... which way... emergency..." She tried to remember the fire escape plan – the closest thing that could apply to the situation.

Continuous snaps echoed behind her, as the camera switched to her face - bloodshot eyes peeking left and right at toppled furniture. The camera focused on her hurried feet for a moment, toppling baubles and merch strewn on the carpet. She ducked beneath a door frame as it caved in, the view slowly returning right-side-up, parallel to the unsteady floor.

"BACK"

"r u ok?"

"????!!?"

"FEET"

Brianna panted, looking around. "There's... emergency exits here, I've gotta..."

Further trembles flung away broken shards of fizzled-out light bulbs from the doorway. Amid the noise outside, she was alone with her viewers – who could hear shallow, irregular breaths, and rapid banging and creaking from an out-of-use knob. After a few pleas of "open, open dammit!", the door to the balcony appeared to open on its own, swallowing Brianna.

She lunged with such speed that she nearly threw her phone over the railing. Below was a long drop - longer than it should have been, and getting further each second, with torn emergency stairs dangling limply in the sky. Blue fingers supported it, raising the entire chunk of apartment from below.

Brianna fell to her backside, sweat building around her headset. "It can't..." Her stiff arms recorded a sleek, dark uniform's bio-membrane, wrapped around 20-foot-wide breasts; a long azure neck with what seemed to be gills; and...

...after a second of lag...

A face. Brianna's face, reflected in dark, glossy, immense eyes. It stood there, before her - the shape of a pert, button nose, inhaling and exhaling terrestrial oxygen in a calm, measured pattern. Cheeks lifted by curling lips. Loose, organic tendrils in a gradient of indigo and violet, sliding from the back of her head and framing her features, and stopping gradually around her massive, slender shoulders.

Almost like hair.

Almost like a woman's face.

Almost like a smirk.

As her lips parted, a wet, musty air emerged from the invader's teeth - and it did seem appropriate to call them that. Brianna was almost tempted to touch the green taste buds inside to see if they were real. The tongue unrolled like a slow carpet before a monarch. Overtaken by a pang of fear, she turned to the chat, desperate for some answer – or failing that, condolences.

"HER"

"What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck"

"face reveal"

"it's over"

"kinda hot tho"

"no"

"...~...--"

Something came out of the giant mouth. Words. Not something Bri could fully make out, with the warning notifications and stream music echoing in her headset; but it was some kind of language. The warm breath washed over her, and became a chill, shutting the streamer into stillness.

The chat messages stopped, too, for just a second - before resuming, nearly rattling in her palm:

"serve"

"pray for a quick death"

"serve"

"pray to be a good nutrient"

"serve"

Brianna stared at the outpouring, sans-serif characters - thumb twitching above them. It wasn't the same confused, chaotic mishmash of tired memes; each was precisely one second apart, and some from viewers who'd been with her for years.

300 feet in the air: running back inside was useless. She rushed to the side, far away from the colossal face, and flung herself over the railing, teary eyes shut. This was it.

Fwip.

There was no hard landing. The invader didn't afford her that. From over 25 feet away, with the speed and distance of a chameleon's tongue, the alien's slimy organ lashed out. It stuck to her body with precise aim, gluing her in a spongy indent in the ever-shifting surface. It "saved" her from the drop. And even when Brianna fought back, wrestling away from its glutinous hold, the flexible muscle coiled around her, rolling her back into the "safety" of the maw.

And lathering her.

And tossing her against a cheek.

Drooling.

Savoring her.

This monster that had methodically wiped out half a city... was playing with her food.

This thought sent cold shivers down her spine alone - nearly as intense as the taste buds sliding over her, coarse enough to rip her shirt, yet soft on her flesh. That damp "air" from the balcony was now a veritable miasma, a mist within the gigantic jaws that fogged the camera screen. Only the smallest bit of illumination shone in between the small gaps in the teeth, containing the fleshy, torn remains of... Brianna didn't want to think about it. She just repeatedly flung her fist against the verdant muscle which shared this cramped, organic room with her.

A small, rising "hmmm~" - and the lengthy tongue deposited its prey.

The twitch signal cut.

SIGNAL LOST

--And resumed, showing a bit of fleshy emerald passages.

And shut again.

And opened, in sync with the organic pulses of alien throat muscles, processing the contents down on waterfalls of hot juice.

Constricting tunnels of throat muscle masticated its contents: one woman, her screams drowning in meters of thick flesh, or cut off by hard pressure on her gut. Every flail and struggle just seemed to push her past another natural aperture in the esophagus. Long, sheer drops, with a peek into terrifying, smoky ground below; punctuated by all-too-long squeezes of slime-drenched cells, the inner biology introducing itself.

She finally had nothing holding her – leading to the longest drop yet, unsupported, into a deep pond below.

splish

Brianna resurfaced, looking around.

"Oh, no... no, that's... fuck..."

Shapes blurred by poor reception and thick liquid crossed the screen, bleeding into one another. A wipe from the streamer's sleeve gave greater definition to the sinking stomach contents: wheels. Concrete. A whole car rolled up like a pill bug, with red inside. What could only now be described as "biomass", from sources that Brianna couldn't identify - and didn't want to. And all around, bubbling acids, with a bioluminescent glow revealing semi-translucent stomach walls that tensed and relaxed around them.

Brianna splashed, clutching to her only remaining access to the outside world. The continual drum of sounds from what felt like right on the flesh sent sweat streaming down her - at least, she hoped it was sweat. "Fuck! Everyone, it's - that's me. That's us. That's us in here! This is what we are to it - her - food? Fuck, no, no, get me out, I'm not - I'm gonna die! It smells like fish and rotten gas, I can't feel my legs, I can't feel the floor, and I'm - I'm not gonna be - mush!"

Between confused screams, and heavy dripping, she glued her face back to the screen: seeing the messages hadn't paused.

"serve"

"be joyous the universe selected humanity"

"serve"

"your achievements have built up to this"

"serve"

"you understand"

She lowered her arm. That repeated message, from people she loved, who'd supported her through her career, such as it was... It really didn't make sense to fight, in her last moments.

No, it made all the sense in the world, to swim towards a stomach wall and kick it in -

Heavy whirlpools began, pulling Brianna away. She let herself float, bobbing among the desolate waste within this blue gargantuan thing’s stuffy innards.

She shook her head and screamed. Her hands clawed to stay above the rising fluids -

And they tingled in the pleasant, bubbling massage they provided. Her head drifted under.

Brianna gathered her air to scream, not so much at her as at the universe -

And the sound was drowned out by a relaxing drumming, almost like a heartbeat; a siren song of satisfied breaths; and the flush of food being broken down to its essential components.

The phone floated up to the surface, along with her hand - and no other parts.

"serve"

"your culling has come"

"serve"

"pray for the last time"

"serve"

With no breaths left, the very last words Brianna typed remained unsent: "thank yo"

SIGNAL LOST