A Hungry Heron

Some feral vore for your Tuesday! C:

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Rovel was pretty good at using magic.  Unfortunately, the predator watching him had their own enchanted ability. . .
The fox was walking along, minding his own business, when the heron struck.  The bird dove out of the bushes in front of the fox, surprising him—it had used magic to mask its presence completely.  Before he could react, it opened its beak wide.
Rovel was struck dumb by the sight in front of him.  A drooling maw was on display, filled with saliva and a tongue that reached out towards him.  Before he could react, his head was inside.
The fox, a competent predator himself, knew the heron wouldn’t let go easily.  “Oh, come on!” he screamed, struggling inside the mouth.  But the predator had swallowed prey much larger than him before—to the bird, this was like gulping down a large fish.  And though Rovel could wield electricity, it took time to prepare his attacks, which made him the ideal victim for the hungry predator.
The bird licked up his face, tasting its prey with its large tongue.  The fox squirmed as he was tasted, and tried to pull his head out—but the bird just clamped its beak down tighter, refusing to give up its meal.  He used his paws to charge up an attack—this would just have to be done the hard way. . .
/Gulp!/  The heron sucked in Rovel’s face, which caused the fox to let out a terrified scream as his head was shoved inside the throat.  The tight, cylindrical space clamped down around him, refusing to let go, not giving him even a bit of space.  But Rovel’s attack was charged—and now, he would strike!
He shot a bolt of electricity from each of his paws, and they hit the heron head-on—but unfortunately for him, the bird’s feathers focused magical energy and attacks away from the body.  His attack simply bounced off of the predator—and, at that moment, the bird gulped in his shoulders, sending the paws inside the mouth and rendering Rovel unable to attack!
The fox was starting to panic.  But if that wouldn’t work, he just had to fight his way out!  He squirmed and struggled, writhing around the trying to get the bird to spit him up by force.  The heron, an experienced predator, simply ignored the struggles of his prey, and used the struggling as an opportunity to better taste its new meal, licking and sucking as Rovel moved around.  Then it gulped down more of him, sending his upper body inside of the throat—including his paws, which were now stuck in the esophagus.
The fox may have been stuck inside the cramped space, but he wasn’t going to give up yet!  He kicked out with his legs, still trying to get out of this situation.  Panic was starting to creep up his body, sending shivers down his spine.  Was he really being eaten alive?  Was there really no way out of this?  No, he couldn’t lose his head. He had to get out of here!
The heron felt as its prey continued to kick and struggle, Rovel’s legs and tail waving frantically.  But the bird paid this no mind, and simply swallowed more of its meal.  This fox tasted good, and it couldn’t wait to have the food in its belly. The bird gulped in Rovel’s lower body, and suddenly, only the back feet and tail were left.  Finally, it sucked in the last bite, sending the legs and tail down its throat.  
That final gulp sent Rovel’s muzzle to some kind of barrier—the sphincter of the stomach, though the fox couldn’t know that—and before he knew it, his head was sliding past it, into a more open space.  At first the fox was relieved, and grateful to be freed from the tight grip of the throat.  But then he caught the smell of acid.  And as a predator himself, he knew where he was: the stomach.
“DARN IT!” the fox screamed, struggling harder.  “SPIT ME OUT, YOU STUPID EXCUSE FOR A CHICKEN!”
The heron heard the cries of its victim, and though it couldn’t understand what Rovel was saying, it knew that was a fruitless effort.  Food liked to scream and cry all the time, but that never stopped it from going right where it belonged.  
Rovel was shoved deeper into the stomach, and he landed against the walls with a loud /splash/.  Then, before the fox knew it, he was all curled up inside the gut.  Rovel’s presence stretched the belly outward as he pressed against the wet, gooey walls.
That’s when digestion began.  The walls began dripping with fluid, which poured down on the fox relentlessly, making him cry out in pain.  Uncaring, the liquids rained down on him, splashing on his fur and digging into his skin.  It filled up the stomach in no time at all, until only his head poked out of the pool of ooze.  “STUPID BIRD!” he screamed.  The stomach liquid churned around the fox, and soon, it would break him down.
Outside, the heron sat on the ground, relaxing as digestion kicked in.  Before long, Rovel would be reduced to nothing but slop.  But there would still be work to do. . .
After the fox was digested, the heron stood up from the ground, coughing as it regurgitated his remains.  First the bones of the fox traveled up its throat, landing on the ground with a loud, wet /thwack/.  Then fur left its maw, patches that made the heron hack and spit up fluffy balls of the stuff.  And finally, the bird let out a loud, “Squak!” and spit up the last piece: Rovel’s crystal heart, a huge object that took its time traveling up the predator’s throat.  Finally, it landed in the beak, and the heron spit it onto the ground, covering the heart in drool.
Satisfied, the heron flew away.  The crystal heart on the ground glowed.  Soon, the fox would regenerate, but he had certainly provided the bird a satisfying meal.