Softchurn looks away for a moment and runs her hand through her hair. "Look, I.m not going to bullshit you, Luke. Sorry, no pun intended. It's not as if I've been keeping count, but not many make it. Something you gotta remember, bud, women are in control and sooner or later some girl's gonna vore you unless you get yourself a licence."

She pauses. "I got some control over the guys I swallow, though. It's not that easy digesting a human body, and it gets more difficult as you get older. Um, and I'm 35, so that's sort of good news. And I can choose whether or not to take digestive aids - there's loads of those on the market. Something else, too - I can give you a protective wrapping which should stop you being digested. But " - and her she pauses - "I can never be sure even after taking precautions. There are some guys I wanna keep because either I like them or they're good on film. But they've gone in me and never come out. Or in one of my girls."

"Wow" you say. This isn't great news. And what if she doesn't like you?

Softchurn seems to be reading your thoughts. "We get all sorts of guys here. Many of them we take a dislike to, plus some of them come from the courts - criminals, crimes against women, that sort of thing. So if we don't like you, you're toast the moment you're swallowed."

Softchurn looks at you intently.

"You want to know if I like you?"