"Hey, Mr Schue! How's your morning been so far?" Kurt spins on his heel with a big smile plastered on his face to intercept Schue, who looks a little bemused.
"It's been fine, Kurt. What are you guys up to?"
Pinched between Puck's massive brown fingers, you're screaming at the top of your tiny lungs for the heroic Mr Schuester to help you. Even as Kurt babbles on to his teacher and Puck lifts you over his open mouth, his back turned to the room, you kick and fight and shout yourself hoarse, convinced that you can't possibly die like this.
This all amuses Puck so much, his smirk almost changes the shape of his wide lips as they spread apart for you. The darkness of eternity trails down the back of his throat, past his wagging, glistening tonsils. The monstrous jock gives you one swing, two swings, and then sends you plummeting onto the furry surface of his tongue.
You put up a valiant fight, but it's no use. You're food now, and you both know it. Your future is to be digested and transformed into protein for the giant hunk, and for all the glee club members to wish you good riddance. You know all of this from the moment you land in the giant athlete's dark, dank mouth and feel the waves of saliva swishing around, towards the back of his throat. Even while you claw and squirm to escape the pull of his gushing saliva, you know you're wasting your energy.
You're sucked down, down into the tight tube of the boy's throat. Dragged like a rat into a python's belly, down into a hopeless darkness that no-one should ever have to witness in their life. The hopeless dark of being utterly defeated by a giant, healthy, perfectly functioning male body.
You hit Puck's stomach with a wet, echoing plop. There's an even louder sound when you hear the giant's huge palm patting his belly from the other side of a flesh and muscle wall. You can sense his pride at having trapped you in here.
Now you're on death row, waiting for the srud's body to take what it wants from you and mulch up the rest. And you wait.
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