altpersonacuzv0r3

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

having a werewolf as a roommate means you gotta take a few full moon precautions

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

Pred with a strong instinct to eat their partner after sex

The pred lets their partner know they cant have sex or else they will be consumed. And neither of them want that. But there is a solution

In preparation, Their partner finds a prey that they can quickly swap in afterwards to avoid getting eaten.

It's a delicate and precise art; being able to tell when the pred is gearing up to eat them. Even leaving it a few seconds too late can be fatal

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

Chat what would Sakuras fursona be?

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

Hear me out…

(Fatal vore and cruel pred(s) warning! Semi detailed descriptions of digestion too.)

Someone is invited to dinner with a pred. They don’t know that the pred is a pred until they get to the pred’s large, beautiful house and the pred themselves reveal that information. The guest is scared and asks if they’re the dinner. The pred laughs and says no, as this is not dinner for them. The guest is confused and is told to sit down at the table. The pred calls for their home servants to bring out the meal. The meal in question being the guest’s closest friend. The friend is terrified and asking why they’ve been kidnapped and at this house.

Suddenly it dawns on both the guest and their friend. The guest was picked by the predator to develop an appetite for live meals.

Both of them are horrified and try to escape, but it’s no use. The guest is held in place by some servants and the friend is forced into the guest’s mouth, then down their throat, and then into their stomach by the other servants. The guest tries to cough up their terrified friend, who is thrashing around in their gut. But to no avail.

It doesn’t take long for the guest turned new pred to realize that the feeling of a living, squirming meal weighing down their middle isn’t so bad. In fact, while their friend cries out for help, the guest just belches in response, no longer terrified, and is now satisfied with the dinner they didn’t expect but nonetheless enjoyed greatly.

The experienced pred instructs a servant to start rubbing the new pred’s belly, both to demonstrate to the new pred how good rubs on a very full belly feel, and to also encourage the guest’s stomach to start digesting the still very much active prey.

The experienced pred shared stories with their guest about their past meals, first preys, and even gave them much advice.

All while the once moving large bulge eventually grew still, shrunk significantly, and was dissolved into nutrient rich sludge to be absorbed by the new predator’s gurgling intestines, like normal foods had been before.

While the new pred did treasure their friend very much and would miss them dearly for the rest of their life, this was probably how it was meant to be.

They could always make new friends. And of course, they could always enjoy a new type of food as well.

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

Saying "just get cozy" to my gurgling gut as if my prey isn't going soft is just so nice

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

Es un poco humillante que te envíen un gif random y sea lowkey hot. Es especialmente humillante porque a tu mente degenerada le parece hot pero a cualquier persona normal le daría igual

Es decir, pana, que vergüenza... yo desde temprana edad asociaba a garfield con mis weas del feederism y el vore...

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

First time posting a writing...

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Content: Semi-unwilling pred, multiple prey, size difference (prey are like palm sized), safe vore, soft vore, very willing prey

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All Michael wants is to get out of here. Distract his mind from the hurricane that's having it's way in his head. The dread, the fear, the anxiety that eats away at his skin.

Maybe that's why he decided to go tramping aimlessly into the woods. No one around to hate him. No one around to fear the judgement of. He knows he'll be fine. To get back, all he has to do is follow the quiet until it breaks away into the noise of the city. But that's for later. Much later. These woods are better than trying to ignore the smell of people everywhere, of his friends, of his family. Just grass and leaves as far as the eye can see. The lingering scents of animals, leaving their marks in the underbrush. And… something… sweet? The air tastes almost like fruit, yet he sees none around. If there was an orchard nearby, he'd know, right? There'd be a massive farmer's market in town or something.

Michael stops and looks up. There's a trail of small winking lights floating among the branches. They almost remind him of fireflies. The presence of those same bugs might be why he didn't register these at first. He reaches up and pokes one. It sparkles, bursting into motes of light that slowly dissolve into the air.

Curious, he follows the lights. Up ahead he can hear sparking pops, rushing water, and soft hisses of indistinct noise. The fruit-like smell grows stronger. The air feels thicker, thrumming with some substance he can't identify. He decides to think of it like a confusing alien humidity. As he pushes himself through a wall of bushes, he blinks at the sight in front of him.

It's… a party? Seemingly random objects crowd the place (giant mushrooms, sure, but why is there a brand-new sofa here?) and even more of those lights illuminate the area. It's like a star-filled sky, flooded with sparkling lights that are replaced as quickly as they wink out. Blurs of color and light move around the area. A buzz of movement fills his ears– like insect wings, like a whistling breeze, like rustling leaves. At first he wonders where the people are. Only once he focuses on the blurs do they start looking like definite forms to him. Small people, decked with– no, embedded with crystals.

The pit in his stomach grows deeper at the realization. Then it itches at his insides, insisting he stop ignoring it. He wanted to get away from people. Yet here he is, ending up in a throng of them. Maybe that's on him. Being stupid and following what was probably magical lanterns for fairies or something.

He backs up, trying to retreat to the other side of the bushes. The fragile branches snap around his arms.

"Hey!" Someone shouts, and he hopes that it's not directed at him. Then that someone flies into his vision, promptly dashing that hope. "You busy?"

"What?" Michael asks.

"I said, are you busy?" The fairy repeats, hovering in front of his face.

"I, uh. No. Why do you ask?"

"Great!" The fairy claps their hands together, beaming. "We need some variety over here. Make some requests, get crazy! Wishes, if you insist on it. We've got mana to burn."

"I'm…" He glances past them, into the thick of the gathering. Some faces have turned towards him. If he's leaving, it's not going to be unnoticed. Or unjudged.

"Sorry, I don't know what this is about. I don't want to intrude on your, uh, party?"

The fairy gives him an odd look. "It's a casting festival. We've been running out of ideas and we still have mox-ridden to take care of. So come on! Get in here, sit down."

That clears up next to nothing, but Michael nods like he understands. What he expected was a demand for why he's there, or maybe a yell for him to leave. Not… this.

"Um, okay." He never was good at speaking. He's not sure if this will be any different. Michael clumsily extricates himself from the bush, bringing plenty of leaves with him.

"Go, go!" A new voice shouts. He can feel the press of attention on him, of much smaller eyes following his comparatively giant self. The idea of standing feels nauseating. At least that confusingly pristine couch will come into use. He sits.

Michael picks a leaf out of his air.

"Allow me." Yet another stranger comes near him, waving their good arm. The other is stiff, composed entirely of gem. Or encrusted with it? He's not sure. Before Michael can figure that out, all the broken twigs and leaves in his hair transform into butterflies, fluttering away.

"Ah." He states. There's movement behind him, and the pressure of being watched is now crushing. God. These people are, what, palm-sized? Smaller? He doesn't know. Because he's not focusing on that. Definitely. Most certainly not. But there's a bunch behind his head on the back of the couch now aren't they. Why are they there. He's boring he's not interesting.

Something hisses, and he decides to ignore the basket of rubber snakes someone just manifested.

"You don't talk much, do you?" The first stranger says. Michael isn't sure when they followed him, or if they were there all along. He just sort of shakes his head, feeling too sick to speak.

"Hey, wait." The crystal-ridden fairy gestures out their good arm, holding a hand out. "Hold up your hand."

Confused and too afraid to say no, he does so. They press their hand against his finger, thoughtful.

"Oh, this is perfect. You drain magic!"

"Uh. I– sorry. I don't, I don't think I can make it stop. Is that… is that gonna be a problem?" He asks despite knowing the answer is yes.

"Not at all!" The fairy laughs at him, and there's tittering behind his head. The fear of why they're laughing drowns out the actual words.

"I've got an excellent idea. You're a vampire, aren't you?"

"You can tell that fast?" He asks.

"Not many things can be mana sinks and alive beings." The fairy pauses. "Technically alive."

Before he can ask what being a vampire has to do with anything, another voice pipes up.

"Eat us!"

Alarmed, Michael spins around to stare at the miniature crowd behind him. "Huh??"

There's a chorus of agreement, of laughter, and beaming smiles. He starts to wonder if his hunger is making him delusional.

"Look!" The same voice cries, now identified as belonging to glowing blue fairy. "This is a golden opportunity. We need to burn mana, you need to absorb energy. It's an easy solution!"

"But why– why eating? Isn't that dangerous for you?"

"Psht," A green fairy scoffs, "We could get out even if wanted to stop us."

"Are… are you sure? If you get out with magic, and I'm… taking it…?"

"Just one of us has way more mana than you could ever take at once. And guess what! You take it best through eating, which is why that's the only way it'll actually make a difference." At this point he isn't sure who's speaking. They're all strangers to him, overwhelming and bright. The constant switching is making his head spin.

"Look," A brash voice says, "We’re basically doing you a favor.”

Something pokes his belly, and Michael reflectively swats at the offending person. They easily flit backwards out of reach, giggling at him.

“I’m–”

“Come on!”

“I…” Michael glances away, frighteningly aware of the gathering crowd around him. He clutches his shirt, pressing his fist into his middle. A rumble teases him in return. They'll be fine. They'll be fine? And he. He doesn't think he can get out of this situation anyway. He'd been desperate to avoid his friends and their insisting, but this is astronomically worse. The anxiety and the hunger alike dig at his insides. "Okay."

There's a pregnant pause.

"Open up, then!" Someone shouts. Admonished, Michael opens his mouth, displaying his fangs and empty throat. All of a sudden there's a taste on his tongue. A slight weight presses against it, and wings tickle against the roof of his mouth. He flinches, snapping his jaws shut and reflexively swallowing to rid himself of the feeling. Something wriggles down his throat in surprise.

He looks down at his stomach in a panic.

“Shit! Shit, I'm sorry, you– I didn’t mean to throw you down so fast–”

“Forget that! It’s my turn!” Another fairy presses tiny hands against his lips.

“Uh–?” The moment his mouth opens, they push inside, kicking their legs against his teeth to propel themselves down his throat. In that moment, he’s grateful he no longer has a gag reflex. He swallows, and their lemony taste slips past his tongue along with them. Michael doesn't know if he should be glad for or dreadful of the rapid pace.

His stomach seems to have no opinion one way or the other, merely growling at the prospect of being fed. There's a tittering of excitement around him.

Another approaches, face eager. He hesitates, but opens up his mouth for them. God, another. How many will there be? He hasn't bothered to count the amount around him, but he hopes it's not all of them. The way his gut gurgles implies disagreement.

Someone touches his middle again, and he gently waves them away. He can't speak, not with the current fairy deciding to take their time searching his mouth. His tongue twitches, and it's with great chagrin he realizes he's drooling. They taste like sugar. Artificial fruit. They push forward, and Michael takes that as a sign to swallow. He can feel the warmth of energy slip past his throat, moving deeper inside him. It collects in his stomach. He doesn't dare look down at it.

Even as that someone tries to touch him again.

"What are you doing?" He snaps, unable to help it.

"I want to see if I can feel anyone from out here," They say, perturbed.

"Well– just don't. If you want to touch anything, do it from inside." Even as he says them, Michael regrets the words.

"You hear that? You're next!"

"That's not what I–" He stammers, trying to correct the assumption, but they're already staring up at him with such big, desperate eyes. The noise dies in his throat. How is he supposed to deal with a look like that? Michael sighs and opens his mouth. The fairy, eager as the rest, dives in. It's some small relief that he can't choke. He swallows, pressing fingers against his lips. The taste of their skin lingers, crystalline and sweet. The movement of their small body disappears inside him.

That's what he wants to think, anyway. In reality, he can feel squirming inside his gut. Small pressures that he can feel for moments, only for his stomach to disguise the sensation with a deep growl. Hunger still itches at him. The edge has been weaned off, dulled. But he doesn't feel full. Doesn't feel satiated. As much as he hates to admit it, this crowd might be right. They're kind of doing him a favor. Instead of going home and starving, hoping he won't do anything…

With an uncertain sort of confidence, he holds his tongue out. Michael doesn't even see this one, only knows they're in his mouth. He draws his mouth closed, and– oh, no, okay, a second has decided to clamber in. Michael hums in protest. With his tongue he presses one against the inside of his cheek, swallowing one at a time. There's a little bit of a rhythm now.

The way they slide down his throat. His stomach squirms, and he grimaces. The sensation is foreign, and he can't tell if the movement makes him feel sick or thrilled. That's a pretty consistent doubt, though. Not knowing if he's happy or disgusted by the situation at hand.

"Me next! Me next!"

"One second…" he pauses, taking a deep breath. How many has he eaten? He hasn't been counting, but it feels like far too many. Not enough. He wonders whether he'll be able to fit all of the fairies that flutter around his head. They stare expectantly at him, hover above his shoulders, lower in front of his stomach. Is it sticking against his shirt now? Now that he looks at it, he can see it glowing with a handful of different colors. They flicker and move through his skin.

"Right."

Michael's stomach growls again. At the end of this, he's going to be stuffed…

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

Honestly, I've been working in a vore one-shot for a while and I think it's pretty neat. Hopefully I finish it today uwu

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

Yo y mis tendencias svprefilifcas que no me dejan ver una película en paz

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

A naga, a prey and the devil

TW: Fatal vore, unwilling prey

(Something rushed, unorganized and superflous, that was also funny to make)

Whenever Teto is walking around the village's edges with his boyfriend, interwined hands and everything, he likes to tell nosy passersby "he is pregnant with my triplets" instead of the boring "he is a naga who has just eaten, so his prey is still in his first stomach". Smart people usually take the hint and the atmosphere is nice again. But some jerks simply don't understand. Most people decided to ignore his ridicolous words. Especially when they were so easily proven fake, it was obvious there was someone inside. Anyone would see the franctic movements, the strange bumps, and listen to the pleas amidst the stomach's groans.

Even if Teto knows how impresing his darling is, it is extremely annoying to find them staring while he, the boyfriend, is right there. Annoying enough that he wanted to help them live the whole oh-so-astonishing experience themselves. He knows it very well; first step to make them lower their guard is acting as he normally would. "Don't you belive me? I promise you it is true. What's more, come closer and check it yourself" Facing such affable expression and his reputation as a sweet boy, they joined the "joke". Commiting the very unfortunate mistake of entering grasping distance. Unknowingly, they ended up walking towards their end.

As always, they took the bait. Now, Teto's job was done. His naga would take care of the rest. Actually, it was as though the hunger switch within the crature had been flipped again. "Let me show you" it says while forcefully grabing the poor's bastard hand "You'll see it by yourself". With no chances against the strong arms pushing them inside the naga's mouth, they soon entered the esophagus, which dutifully delivered them to the stomach. Even from outside one could tell it was cramped, but the beast seemed content with the extra weight and pressure. It made a show of caressing its distended belly.

What a wonderful sight! Providing for his naga was such a nice feeling. His sweetheart seemed really pleased and for Teto there is absolutely nothing better than that (except getting rid of rude boyfriend stealers).

-A small distraction for today, cartoonish-

Borrador en Español, por si a alguien le interesa

Me parece increíble que, cuando Teto recorre las afueras de la aldea con su novio, él prefiera decir a los pasantes "es que está embarazado, son trillizos" en vez de "es una naga que acaba de comer y su presa apenas está en su primer estomago". Lo ha hecho siempre, suele ser suficiente para animar el ambiente. Pero los entrometidos no lo entienden. La mayoría de personas ignoran sus palabras absurdas. Es fácil desmentirlas cuando claramente pueden ver y escuchar a alguien moviéndose frenéticamente ahí dentro, suplicando por piedad en medio de los rugidos de tripas.

Si bien Teto sabe que su querido es impresionante, le irrita que se le queden viendo estando él, su novio, presente. Otro nombre a la lista negra. Si tanto les asombra, está dispuesto a ayudarlos a vivir la experiencia completa. Debe hacer que bajen la guardia, así que actúa como lo haría normalmente.

"¿De verdad no me crees? Anda, acércate y compruébalo" y ante su pinta de niño bueno, cualquiera pecaba de ingenuo. Sin saberlo, terminaban dando el paso hacia su ruina.

Una vez lanzado el anzuelo, la naga se encarga del resto. "Déjame mostrarte", dice mientras sujeta las manos del pobre diablo. ¡Fantástico! Su amado parece muy complacido, y no hay cosa que Teto disfrute más (excepto deshacerse de patanes molestos).

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

no one is born to be alone

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

yo cuando literalmente la mitad de la media que consumia incluia descripciones detalladas o ilustraciones caricaturescas de malos malosos comiendo al bueno buenote. Ya sea hablando a traves de ellos o saltando o jugando con esas cosas.

Aparte de esas weas llegaron los hps de youtube con sus videos todos kinky a dejarme la asociacion de que eso era bueno (comico/hot).

Entonces por un lado y por el otro quede trastocada con el vore. Iniciando desde los que, 5 anos? (no tengo enes, asi que asumo el peso de mis palabras)

i knew little red riding hood was supposed to be a lesson in not talking to strangers n such as a kid but little kinky me didn’t think about it too much due to the many depictions of the wolf being strangely hot n given a big distended tummy after he ate people

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

Oh... What have we here?

A little creature's fallen into my smoothie while trying to get a taste... How cute. You couldn't reach it, so you fell in, right? Yeah... I thought so. You're covered head to toe, now.

Well... Now I have to have you.

I pick up my smoothie and tip the glass up. Easily, you slip towards my open maw, and then fall in. I shut my mouth around you and set the glass down.

Ah... The smoothie compliments your flavor perfectly, did you know that?

Your head pops out of my mouth, and you reach for freedom. It's kind of cute, honestly. Effortlessly, my tongue flits out, and scoops you back in. Then, in a smooth motion, my tongue pushes you to the back of my throat, and I swallow. Being coated in smoothie makes it easier for you to slip down my throat - who knew?

I can feel the moment you land in my stomach. I gently rub the small swell there, feeling your desperate kicks and struggles. Oddly, I notice something in my teeth - I pick it out carefully and examine it.

...A small pair of glasses? Huh... How do you even see out of these things? They're so... Small.

Well... I guess you won't be needing them anymore. Not for the time being, anyways. I set them down next to my smoothie, and then, lean back.

Maybe I should have a bunny with my smoothie more often.

[altpersonacuzv0r3]

Imagine: Vore by proxy.

A pred that loves their prey, so, so much. Their smell, their taste, their beautiful eyes, their spunky personality... Everything. But there's just one problem for the pred.

Love... Hurts.

Their stomach twists and contracts painfully on open air whenever the prey comes near. Their love runs deep. Deeper than any normal person's love. They want to feel the prey, skin pressed up against the wrinkly flesh of their stomach. They want to feel every little buck, every breath, every shudder... They want to hear every cry that falls from the prey's lips... And perhaps, worst of all, they want to feel their body brutally dominating the prey in their gut, grinding them down into nothing so that the prey can never leave them.

But if they do this, the prey will disappear entirely - be gone forever. A few hours of bliss... It's not worth dooming the prey to an eternity on the pred's haunches.

So, instead, the pred turns to other means to satisfy their angry stomach. Pillows that their prey sleeps with. Blankets. Clothes. The flavor of their prey lingers somewhat in the fabric, as they absorb the oils from their skin... And these at least fill the empty space in the pred's stomach...

But it's not enough. Anytime the prey comes near, the pred's stomach clenches again, threatening to dissolve the pillow (or, perhaps, pillows plural - they need all they can get, afterall) in mere minutes. A long, rolling gurgle sounds, and the moment is tense, with the pred and prey locking as the pred gently strokes their pillow-filled gut.

It's only a matter of time, now. Every time the prey visits the pred is like dancing with the devil - They never know when it will end up going horribly wrong.