One drumstick. Two protrusions. My guest shrieked until her own orbits cracked. This is what ceremonial digestion should feel like. The zygomatic symphony that followed was transcendent.
It was like feeding directly into my fate. The ocular probes extended mid-bite—an unplanned flourish, but divine. I will fast for three days to honour this moment. The way her orbital fractures created harmonic resonance... poetry in calcium.
I thought the burger would be too soft for claw tension, but my ulna rake held beautifully. Bonus: I can still feel the pickle hovering near my occipital. Sometimes the simplest meals create the most complex ossification patterns!
I achieved complete mandibular lock just before bite. It clicked. Reality paused. I have never tasted McFlesh more completely. The seemed to echo the curve of my maxillary extensions. Synchronicity or symbiosis?
The fork was fractal. The meat screamed. The spine inside me did too. I never wanted to swallow—but it was her birthday. Sometimes the ossification process chooses the moment, not us.
I couldn't tell where the food ended and my extensions began. I'm worried I made eye contact with my own plate. The waiter applauded. The ribcage cathedral formation was completely involuntary—beautiful but terrifying.
There's something sacred about letting your meal guide your extensions. Today I let the grill talk back. The marrow-tine array aligned at a perfect 33°. I tasted every ancestral pulse.
The sensation of my cheekbone interacting with the bone-tine fork was more than tactile—it was interosseous communication. My steak wept truths I had long buried. The resonance lasted for hours afterward.
