vorasicawolf

[vorasicawolf]

You can feel them curled in your belly, still wriggling, still fighting. And as you lean back on the couch, one hand lazily draped over the dome of your stuffed stomach, a familiar, primal emotion unfurls in you like a lion stretching its great paws, basked in the afternoon sun.

Satisfaction

You rub slow circles over your taut middle, fingers pressing possessively against the swell. Your prey squirms, and your stomach growls like a beast

You give your belly a gentle pat, a smug burp slipping past your lips. It feels good. It feels right. You stretch, legs straightening, your whole body weighted and warm.

Time to digest

[vorasicawolf]

The Accident

Cw: unwilling prey, semi unwilling pred, digestion implied

At first, it's funny, just a silly accident.

You hadn't meant to swallow them—really, it was just a stupid accident. One second they were...  well it doesnt matter

and the next… well. Reflexes took over.

Now they’re curled up inside you, shifting awkwardly, a littler grossed out, pressing at the walls of your stomach with hesitant hands.

"Wow," they laugh, a little breathless. "This is weird. But, uh, let's figure out how to—"

Then it happens. A ripple, deep in your core. A slow, deliberate knead of muscle, drawing tight around the warm body inside you. The first trickle of heat. the unmistakable prickle of acid leaking out as your stomach prepared to digest. Your breath hitches.

Oh. That feels—

"Shit," you exhale, clutching your middle as your gut tightens again, this time with more purpose. A thick, rolling churn stirs in your belly, massaging the weight inside you.

Your stomach has realised something: there’s prey in it. And it’s considering its options.

There is one most favourable option.

"Uh, hey." Their voice is still light, but there’s an edge to it now. "I felt that. That was—is that digestion?"

You don't answer. You’re too caught up in the sensation. Warmth unfurls in you, something deep and curious and good.

Your gut clutches down, squeezing, squeezing, coaxing the meal inside into something softer, more compliant, something absorbable. You can feel the delicate details of their body against your stomach lining, how the heat and slick pressure intends on shaping them. Deleting the details. Breaking them down into something simplier.

It sends a shiver down your spine. Your hands drift to your belly, pressing, rubbing slow circles against the rounded swell.

The more you knead, the more intricate sensations you discover.

"Dude." There’s real unease in their voice now. A frantic shove from inside you.

"Snap out of it. This is funny and all, but get me out before—"

Your stomach cuts them off, rippling with a hungry, greedy glorp. It clenches down hard, pressing them tighter into its sticky embrace.

You barely stifle a moan at the feeling. Your breath is shaky.

"God, this is—this is really weird, but it feels—"

"Don't say it feels good."

Your hands push deeper into your belly, fingertips kneading, chasing the sensation of their squirming body as your gut gurgles over them.

Each movement makes it better—your stomach is reacting to their struggles, squeezing tighter, rewarding you with a fresh flood of heat.

They’re wriggling more, pushing at your stomach walls, but every motion just stirs up more of that sticky pleasure.

"Okay, no, you have to fight this!" They sound breathless now, the pressure growing heavier on them. "You don’t want to digest me, right?"

You shouldn't. But the weight of them inside you—their body squishing and shifting under your stomach's steady kneading—has you shuddering.

You can't help it; you sink lower, pressing your middle into the bed, letting the pressure sink them deeper into the hot, clenching hold of your gut.

"Ohh…"

The sound slips out before you can stop it. A shaky, drawn-out exhale.

"…Hey," their voice is smaller now, and you can hear the realization creeping into it. "Hey, no, you have to stop this, okay? You can fight it. Just stop—stop kneading your stomach, stop pressing down on me, please—"

Your stomach gurgles in reply, tight and content. You know, with an awful, sinking certainty, that you should be resisting. That you should be fighting against this feeling. This isnt something you can stop. Youve never felt this way before, and its too much for you to handle.

Your breath is coming in shallow, shaky gasps now, your entire body trembling with the sensation blooming deep in your gut. Each clench, each slow ripple of muscle working over the prey inside you, sends another wave of pleasure up your spine, warm and drugging. You have to try, you have to do something, or at least you have to buy some time, to clear your head, before its too late.

But every time you feel your prey - your friend, wriggle inside of you, each flutter against your skin, against your tender insides, it makes it harder to focus on your values.

"D-don't struggle," you whisper, voice thin and wrecked. Your hands tighten over the taut curve of your stomach, rubbing, kneading. "It—it feels too good. You’re just—hah—stimulating me more."

A choked sound from inside you. "Are you kidding me?!"

They kick. Hard.

And it’s ruinous.

The jolt of movement sends your stomach into a frenzy, rippling around them, clutching down with greedy, squeezing pressure. The heat inside you surges, thickening, your gut working faster, kneading them deeper into its clinging folds. Your body reacts, your instincts set off like a tripwire.

You bite back a moan, barely stifling the shaky pleasure that bubbles up in your throat.

"Oh, fuck—" They panic. You can feel it. Their instincts take over, and suddenly they’re thrashing, pressing, pushing against your stomach walls with all their strength.

Your brain flickers a brief realisation of the irony. Yours and your preys instincts acting in perfect discord.

And the overstimulation is delicious. A shudder wracks your frame as you press both hands to your gut, desperate to keep up with the overwhelming sensation.

Your fingers sink into your belly, rubbing deep, coaxing, encouraging—

"Ohhh, that’s—" You bite your lip, barely keeping yourself together. "You're making it worse, you’re just making it—hahh—faster…"

Your stomach glorps, rolling tight waves of muscle over the struggling meal inside. It’s learning about them, molding to them, working them down into something soft and pliant.

And eventually, something liquid, to be pumped further into your digestive tract. Something you deeply look forward to.

"STOP RUBBING YOUR STOMACH!"

You can’t.

Your hips shift as you curl around your gut, pressing down, needing more.

"I—I can’t help it," you gasp, barely able to speak through the sheer, heady sensation.

"I—I'm sorry, I just—it feels so… so good…"

They don't stop squirming, never giving you even a second to try and recover.

Their overwhelming fear, and your overwhelming pleasure means neither of you can stop Your instincts are louder than logic. And unfortunately, your stomach is the only one who knows exactly what to do in this situation.

Your hands circle in quick, desperate motions over your gut, trying to help it digest your friend.

despite yourself—despite your friendship, and the consequences you can barely make out through the fog of euphoria--despite everything—you murmur a quiet, breathless, "I'm sorry."

Then you press your belly deeper, harder into the mattress, and groan as digestion really begins.

[vorasicawolf]

[vorasicawolf]

ac: GravidTea

[vorasicawolf]

“Okay, you can let me out now.”

“O-oh, okay. Um…” Tammy shifted awkwardly, biting her lip as the stretched, exposed skin of her belly pressed heavily against her thighs.

“Tammy?”

“Just a second!” With the lightest touch, she traced her fingers along the taut surface of her gut, as though hoping its current occupant wouldn’t feel her ministrations. Her boyfriend twisted inside her, trying to stretch his cramping limbs, and her eyes rolled back in her head as another wave of pleasure crashed through her.

“Let me out now, please,” the voice from her belly chimed with a note of irritation.

“Right. Right. Um. The thing is… I don’t…”

“What? You don’t what?”

Tammy gulped, eyes darting as though to avoid eye contact with her own bloated tummy, before whispering what she’d been thinking since the moment she felt the last of her boyfriend slide past her lips, the lips that had kissed him so many times.

“I don’t want to.”

She felt her prey tense up in her stomach. “You promised you’d let me out!”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Tammy whined, rubbing the bulging outline of her boyfriend within her. “I just… I’ve changed my mind. Okay?”

“No, not okay, are you kidding? You lied to me!”

The predator blushed. “I didn’t! I swear I wasn’t lying, I was planning on letting you out before I swallowed you, but now…”

“Tammy,” his voice sharp with urgency, “If you don’t let me out, you’re going to digest me.”

her breath caught in her chest at those words. her expression, to this point so hesitant and embarrassed, melted into something warmer.

her boyfriend waited for a response. instead, he felt his girlfriend’s eager stomach press around him as she slowly began to massage her belly.

“Did you hear me? You’re going to digest me!”

“Yeah,” she said breathily, massaging her boyfriend-stuffed belly a little more firmly.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“… Yeah. More than okay. I think… I need to.”

“Tammy, it’s me! Not some rando off the street, some asshole at the bar!”

“I know. I’m sorry. But you tasted so good…” She moaned, rubbing her gut vigorously, a hand drifting up to squeeze her chest. “I need to digest you.”

she felt a transition happening in her mind. she could no longer think of him as her boyfriend—he was food. he had always been food. she couldn’t believe she had ever thought of such a delicious morsel as her partner, when he was obviously just a meal she had been saving for later.

and it didn’t matter what he did, how he pleaded or struggled, it only turned his gluttonous girlfriend on even more.

[vorasicawolf]

laying on my front while my belly absolutely fucking destroys someone. ravenously

[vorasicawolf]

[vorasicawolf]

@supernormalblogname's creature lives in my head rent-free (and also under my bed)

[vorasicawolf]

vore that’s entirely on purpose❤️

i am going to eat you because im hungry. youre going to die inside of me slowly and painfully and im going to enjoy every second of it. i dont care that youll be in agony. i might even forget about you the instant you make it down my throat. all you are is a warm fullness in my belly. you mean less to me than a turkey leg.

[vorasicawolf]

"you look like you would be easy to digest"

[vorasicawolf]

Really, when you think about it, the appeal of vore is similar to the appeal of vampires, albeit in a more exaggerated way. There’s that same sexy appeal of being overpowered by a stronger creature, the same intimacy of consumption and feeding another.

In this essay, I will —

[vorasicawolf]

“i could fix him”, “i could make him worse”, girl i’ll just swallow him whole.

[vorasicawolf]

Imagine - the last remnants of someone you see is their fingers, desperately poking out of a pred's lips, wiggling around as if trying to grab something... Before being easily slurped in by the pred, followed by a deep, wet gulping sound as the pred swallows them down... And then, as the cherry on top, the pred licks their lips and shoots a smug grin towards you. They saw you watching... But they know you won't tell anyone. It'll be your little secret.

[vorasicawolf]

boys are such food for girls :333

[vorasicawolf]

"Ryan? No, haven't seen him back here since lunch."