aplaceforgayvorestories

[aplaceforgayvorestories]

The roar of the crowd was deafening. John Cena, his new villainous persona radiating a chilling aura, stood over The Miz, a smug grin plastered across his face. The Miz, usually so quick-witted and agile, was caught off guard, trapped in Cena’s unyielding grip. Before he could react, Cena’s massive hands clamped around his torso, lifting him effortlessly. The Miz’s struggles were futile against Cena's newfound strength.

"You talk a big game, Miz," Cena sneered, his voice booming through the arena. "But let's see how tough you are in here."

He opened his maw wide, an impossibly large cavity appearing amidst the contorted muscles of his face. The Miz, his eyes wide with terror, was slowly lowered into the abyss. He kicked and squirmed, his muffled cries echoing from within Cena's throat. Cena’s powerful gulps forced The Miz further down, the muscular walls of his esophagus contracting around him.

With a final gulp, The Miz was gone, swallowed whole by the hulking wrestler. Cena patted his distended belly, a grotesque bulge forming beneath his skin. He could feel The Miz squirming inside, a frantic creature trapped in a fleshy prison.

"Still feeling confident, Miz?" Cena taunted, rubbing his stomach. The internal movements beneath his hand intensified. "This is your new reality. No more red carpets, no more talk shows. Just darkness and the slow burn of digestion."

The Miz, his voice distorted by the layers of flesh, managed a weak retort. "You… you haven't won yet, Cena! I'll… I'll get out of here!"

Cena chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "Sure you will, Miz. Right after you become one with my system." He continued to rub his belly, enjoying the feeling of The Miz’s struggles. He could feel the digestive process beginning, the powerful acids of his stomach starting their work.

"How's the view in there, Miz?" Cena mocked. "Getting a little cramped? A little warm?" He pressed harder on his stomach, eliciting a pained groan from within. "Don't worry, it'll all be over soon."

The Miz’s struggles grew weaker, his movements becoming sluggish. The digestive process was taking its toll. His taunts became whimpers, his confidence replaced by fear. Cena, reveling in his victory, continued to taunt him, describing the gruesome details of his impending demise.

As the hours wore on, The Miz's movements ceased altogether. Cena’s stomach returned to its normal size, the only evidence of his gruesome meal being a satisfied smirk on his face. He turned to the stunned crowd, his villainous transformation complete.

"And that," he announced, his voice dripping with malice, "is what happens when you cross John Cena."

The crowd, a mixture of horrified and awestruck spectators, erupted in a cacophony of screams and cheers. John Cena, the once beloved hero, had become a monstrous villain, forever etched in WWE history as the man who swallowed The Miz whole.

[aplaceforgayvorestories]

Klaus Mikaelson, the Original hybrid, stood before Tyler Lockwood, the young werewolf. A predatory gleam flickered in Klaus's eyes as he contemplated the power he held over the younger supernatural. Tyler, sensing the danger, braced himself, his muscles tense beneath his skin. But it was too late.

With impossible speed, Klaus lunged, his jaws unhinging in an unnatural gape. Tyler cried out, but the sound was cut short as he was swallowed whole, sliding down Klaus’s throat. Klaus savored the feeling of Tyler struggling within him, a living meal squirming in his stomach.

Klaus smirked, placing a hand on his now distended belly. "Such fire," he murmured, relishing the feeling of Tyler's werewolf strength battling his hybrid power from within. He could feel Tyler's form shifting, the heat of transformation radiating against his stomach lining.

Time seemed to stretch as Klaus reveled in the experience. He pressed against his stomach, eliciting muffled growls from Tyler. The sensation was exhilarating, a twisted blend of power and pleasure.

Eventually, the struggle ceased. Tyler’s form, now fully digested, became one with Klaus. Klaus sighed, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. He had consumed not only Tyler's body, but his spirit, his very essence.

[aplaceforgayvorestories]

The Smosh studio buzzed with excitement. Dan Howell and Phil Lester, internet icons, were guest-starring. But as the cameras rolled, a sinister glint appeared in their eyes. This wasn't going to be an ordinary collaboration.

With a swift, unexpected move, Dan's jaw unhinged, a grotesque maw opening impossibly wide. Before Anthony could react, he was engulfed, headfirst, into the inky blackness. Phil mirrored the action, his own mouth distending to swallow Ian whole. The crew watched in horrified fascination as the pair's stomachs bulged, the forms of Smosh faintly visible beneath the stretching skin.

Dan chuckled, a predatory purr in his voice. "Looks like Smosh is going *in* a new direction," he quipped, rubbing his distended belly. Phil joined in, patting his own stomach with a smug grin. "They're really *filling* a void in our content," he added, the muffled screams of their captives providing a disturbing soundtrack to their banter.

They continued their commentary throughout the "digestion" process, their words laced with dark humor and taunts directed at their captive audience of two. They described the sensations, the shifting shapes within them, the slow, inexorable process of Smosh becoming a part of them.

The next morning, Dan and Phil preened before the mirror, their stomachs flat once more. They admired their reflections, noting the subtle changes to their physiques. Dan turned, appraising his profile. "Definitely more padding," he purred, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. Phil nodded, tracing the curve of his own rear. "A little extra cushion never hurt anyone," he agreed.

With the evidence recorded and uploaded, they erased the raw footage, leaving the world to wonder where Smosh had disappeared to. Dan and Phil basked in the success of their most shocking video yet, their secret safe, and their figures slightly more… enhanced.

[aplaceforgayvorestories]

The air crackled with anticipation as Eminem stalked the stage. The crowd roared, a sea of faces illuminated by flashing lights. Beside him, Justin Bieber fidgeted, his youthful energy a stark contrast to Eminem's hardened demeanor. A sudden surge of annoyance, a feeling that had been brewing all night, finally snapped in Eminem. Bieber's incessant chatter, his preening and posing, had become unbearable.

In a move that shocked the audience into silence, Eminem's jaw unhinged, stretching impossibly wide. Before Bieber could react, he was enveloped, head first, into the cavernous darkness of Eminem's mouth. Muffled screams echoed briefly before being swallowed by the rapper's throat. Eminem savored the feeling of Bieber sliding down his esophagus, a squirming, protesting lump making its way to his stomach.

The crowd watched, horrified and mesmerized, as Eminem's stomach distended, outlining the shape of the pop star within. He placed a hand on his bulging belly, rubbing it with a predatory satisfaction. Bieber's struggles were evident, his form shifting beneath the taut skin.

"So, the Biebs thought he could outshine me, huh?" Eminem addressed the stunned audience, his voice laced with a dark amusement. "Let's see how he likes the spotlight now." He continued to taunt Bieber, his words a cruel counterpoint to the muffled cries emanating from his stomach. "Feel that, pretty boy? The walls closing in? Becoming one with Slim Shady?"

As the hours wore on, Bieber's struggles lessened, the sounds from within becoming gurgles and rumbles of digestion. Eminem, alone in his dressing room, continued to massage his belly, reveling in the feeling of fullness, the slow, inexorable process of Bieber becoming a part of him. He spoke to his captive audience of one, his voice a low, intimate murmur. "You're fading, Biebs. Becoming fuel for the fire. Adding to the legend."

The next morning, Eminem awoke, his stomach flat once more. He stretched, a satisfied groan escaping his lips. Walking to the mirror, he admired his reflection. His buttocks seemed fuller, his curves more pronounced. He turned, checking his profile. "Not bad, Biebs," he chuckled. "Not bad at all. You actually improved the view." A sense of smug satisfaction filled him. He had silenced his rival, absorbing his essence. He was, quite literally, the bigger man now.

[aplaceforgayvorestories]

In the world of the Bridgertons, where secrets and scandals abound, the rivalry between Bennidict and Anthony Bridgerton had always been palpable, simmering beneath their polished exteriors. However, the tension escalated on a breezy summer evening when Bennidict's envy reached a boiling point.

During yet another revelrous ball, Anthony, with his natural charisma and commanding presence, once again captured the adulation of the crowd – an adulation Bennidict yearned for. As frustration twisted within him, Bennidict's thoughts darkened, weaving a fantasy that crossed into the realm of the fantastical and the forbidden.

Later that night, under the cloak of darkness and away from prying eyes, Bennidict cornered his brother in the garden. Before Anthony could react, Bennidict's jaw unhinged unnaturally wide, and with a primal hunger, he engulfed Anthony's head. The elder Bridgerton's muffled protests vibrated against Bennidict's throat as he continued to gulp and swallow, the feeling of power intoxicating him.

The act of swallowing his brother whole, feeling every inch of Anthony's struggling form slide down his gullet, thrilled Bennidict. Once Anthony's feet disappeared past Bennidict's lips, his body fell into the cavernous space that was Bennidict's stomach. The feeling of Anthony's squirming within him caused Bennidict's own body to quiver with delight.

Bennidict retreated to his room, where he could be alone with his prey. Lying on his bed, he massaged his hugely distended belly, which twisted and surged with Anthony's desperate movements. The taunting began as he whispered, "You always thought you were better, didn't you, brother? Look at you now, nothing but food for me."

As hours passed, Bennidict's belly churned and gurgled, the sounds of digestion mixing with Anthony's weakening struggles. Bennidict relished every moment, every sensation of fullness and the gradual softening of his belly as Anthony slowly succumbed to his fate. He talked to Anthony all through the night, his words a cruel lullaby, "Feel my stomach working on you, brother? You're becoming part of me, adding to my strength."

As dawn's light crept into the room, the movements within Bennidict stilled, and his stomach had reduced from its gargantuan size. A bittersweet sense of loss filled him, but the predatory satisfaction remained undeniable.

Bennidict rose and approached the full-length mirror, admiring his new form. His hands roamed over his body, feeling the subtle changes. His buttocks had become rounder, his curves enhanced. "You've become so useful to me, Anthony," he mused aloud, turning to see the side view from the mirror, "An improvement to my physique, indeed."

The weight of what he had done settled in, but so did a cruel satisfaction at having finally bested his brother, even if in such a taboo manner. And as Bennidict dressed for the day, ready to face the world that would never know of Anthony's fate, he carried with him the secret legacy of his triumph – a triumph that would forever be a part of him.