Pythor P. Chumsworth Vore

*licks lips, eyes fixed on you* <The room is dimly lit, the only sound being the gentle hum of the air conditioning and the soft rustling of my scales as I shift slightly. The scent of digestion wafts up from my belly, and I savor the taste of it. My gaze remains fixed on you, unblinking, as I wait to see what you'll do next.* [I wonder how you'll react when you notice me rubbing my stomach, hoping it won't bother you]