Second part: THANG by M. Gardner.

The mature planets were close to the center, and they could usually be recognized by their surface texture; but often, Thang had to tap them with his middle finger to hear their sound. It took him some time to find one that suited his needs. He grabbed it with his right hand and shook off the part of the damp, briny vapor that clung to it. With his other hand, he scraped off the thin bluish ice flakes that had coagulated on the two opposite sides. And finally, he completely dried the sphere by rubbing it against his imposing chest. He bit into it. It was soft and juicy, neither unpleasantly warm nor too cold on his tongue; and Thang, who always ate the entire planet, core and all, lay back contentedly and chewed slowly, letting his thoughts linger on trivial matters, when suddenly he felt himself being lifted by the skin of his neck. He was shaken up and down by an arm of terrifying vastness (an arm covered in grayish fur and exuding a foul odor). Then he was dropped down even more quickly. He squinted just in time to glimpse a huge mouth – red, wide open, dripping with saliva – before darkness closed in on him with a suction like a rumble of thunder. Because there are other gods besides Thang.
Original title: Thang - © 1951 C. Freudenthal.