nombitenary

[nombitenary]

fuck you [nagas your Christopher]

[nombitenary]

Drawing chris as a naga right now to warm up and get back into making art That’s Fun To Post and not just venty stuff for Me again. And I think it’s very funny that he looks so similar to my old naga oc (bc I redesigned the old oc and then borrowed. a lot of design elements from them for Chris). Like now that the old oc got a redesign they look nothing alike but it’s making me giggle

[nombitenary]

"Down. Down. Down. Where things like you go and don't come back." Tam being an a-hole, but she's fine. He'll just spit her out later. Spoilered for v/ore. No h/orny comments, I don't consider this s/exual.

[nombitenary]

(click/tap for quality)

Finished commission for @melleothebutterfly of their character, Seeley! Seems like they've had lovely little snack- wanna join in? Thank you so much for commissioning me! They were a blast to draw and I learned a LOT doing this piece!

[nombitenary]

Say ahh, buddy (lighting practice)

[nombitenary]

pest control

The call comes in just past noon. A woman, frantic, says she’s spotted a colony of tinies scurrying around her attic. Probably have been living up there for months, stealing crumbs, making little tunnels in the insulation. She wants them gone—immediately.

“Fast, effective removal,” you assure her over the phone, slipping on your jacket.

“No mess, no chemicals or poison.”

It’s a warm day, and you feel good, stomach still light from the morning. Your last job had been a modest infestation—three tinies in a crawlspace. They’d gone down easy, barely noticeable in your stomach. You could go for something bigger.

it was lunch time after all

The house is tidy, suburban, white shutters, flower beds neatly trimmed. The woman meets you at the door,

“I heard them moving all last night,” she says, ushering you in. “It’s disgusting.”

You nod, but you don’t share her disgust. Tinies aren’t much of a problem—not for you, anyway. You dont think they're gross.

In fact, you find them delicious.

You climb up to the attic, flashlight sweeping over boxes and dust-covered trunks.

you hear—the light, skittering sounds of tiny feet, racing around, trying to stay hidden. You don’t bother setting traps or luring them out. You’ve done this enough to know how to catch a tiny with your own hands.

“I know you’re in here,” you murmur. “Let’s not make this difficult.”

A rustle. One of them bolts—you see it, definitely a tiny- not a rat or anything else, maybe six inches tall. Its darting for a gap in the wood.

You lunge, faster, and scoop them up. They squirm in your palm. You don’t waste time. A quick toss, a parting scream, and then the tight, familiar sensation of something sliding down your throat.

You swallow, and feel the tiny land heavily in your stomach.

More movement in the attic.

there’s no escape.

Another darts for a box, and you catch them just as easily. One by one, they disappear down your gullet, bulging your throat for a moment before joining the others.

You pat your stomach as it begins to stretch, filled with wriggling, panicked tinies.

By the time you finish, you’re full—pleasantly so.

The attic is silent again, no more scurrying. Just you now, satisfied, stuffed, as you climb down.

The woman looks at your middle. She swallows. “You—uh. You got them all?”

You smile, wiping the corner of your mouth. “All taken care of.” you pat your full belly.

She pays you in cash. You head back to your truck, rubbing your belly as it gurgles over its new contents. Another job well done.

You pull out of the driveway, and head back towards the city, one hand on the wheel, one resting on your stuffed stomach.

You'd give yourself a break, you needed time to dispose of the pests properly. You never wanted to show up to a job already full.

You had another client scheduled in the evening. For now, you pulled into a roadside cafe

It's a favourite of yours, whenever you're in this area. A perfect place to hang around and digest.

You take a seat in the corner, shifting slightly to accommodate the fullness in your stomach. The tinies are settling now, movement staggering as digestion takes its course. You rest a hand over your gut, feeling the occasional twitch beneath your palm.

A waitress comes by, chewing gum, pen poised over her notepad. "What can I get ya?"

"Just coffee," you say. You don't need food.

In a few minutes, your drink arrives.

You sip your coffee, eyes half-lidded, and let yourself sink into the feeling. You do kinda like your job.

[nombitenary]

How does one politely ask “how many times did you get off to things I posted?” Without sounding like a creep lol

[nombitenary]

Self indulgent personal au doodles… ignore his fucked up legs they aren’t real and can’t hurt you

[nombitenary]

holy fuck if I could make it one month without something happening that would be. So cool.

[nombitenary]

hesitantly returning to tumblr… looking for an rp buddy to do some scenes with, wholesome vore or otherwise >:) NO MINORS but uhhh dm me I want to feed my son 💛 lil wip below for proof I am Alive and doing some art

[nombitenary]

How’s the new year treating you?

Him and me both.

[nombitenary]

How’s the new year treating you?

Him and me both.

[nombitenary]

hello, do you have any recommendations for other vore blogs? ive only recently started looking for vore stuff on tumblr and its so hard to navigate bc of the ban :/ i like male pred and digestion stuff as well if that helps! thank you

ooo let me show a couple of my favourite blogs some love!!

@nombitenary - chris is such a good pred and has VERY rich lore hehehe

@teal-fiend - very good povs and well-written scenarios!!!! i eat their stuff up genuinely i don't think anyone puts more thought into the Implications of vore existing in a society so its really a pleasure to read their posts ^-^

@voraciousvore - VERY long macro/micro stories with awesome worldbuilding and overarching plots w/ vore as a recurring plot device 😳

@voraciousbeast - the lovable beast!!! look through his art and writing lots of good food here

@verydigestible - such good ocs ghjdjdgbhjdhgfd

@squirmifyoulike - LOTS OF FATAL VORE SCENARIOS!!!! squirm provides us our good good food. everyone say thank you squirm.

@monster-teef - go through its writing tags if u want to absolutely lose your mind. monster-teef is one of my favourite vore writers on tumblr ghkdghdfj

@ltsmoving - VERY VERY COOL OCS quality posts

@phantum - has old man vore yaoi 10/10

@mmmleckerlecker - BREAKING NEWS: BELOVED AUTHOR OF HEART PANGS ALSO HAS GREAT POSTS

@teefsntums - arthur is constantly serving quality art and groundbreaking new vore ideas never been seen before 😙👌

@dinnergirl - not exclusively a vore blog but uhhh... this bun tends to attract preds~ quality voreposts found here

if any of you want to be removed from this post pls let me know!! also if anyone knows more blogs that anon might like feel free to reblog and add them!!

[nombitenary]

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…

[nombitenary]

I love G/T vore where the tiny is just big enough to fill your tummy a little too much. You feel a little sick as they squirm inside you, stretching your tummy beyond what's meant to be its maximum capacity. Your middle bulges out just a bit, enough to be noticeable, but small enough to be covered by a sweater.

You have to walk around all day with your tummy just so *full*, futilely trying to ease the tension in your belly as you rub at your prey through your hoodie pocket, holding in a groan as your middle grumbles about the amount you've fed it <3

[nombitenary]

feeling some type of way about being curled safely in a stomach where you can feel the love and warmth and protection of the pred surrounding you but even so, the stomach you’re in is like a wild beast and you can still hear it growling and whining for you. you can feel the way it kneads impatiently into you, wanting to tear into you and reduce you to nothing. but the only reason it hasn’t is simply because your pred said, “no. this one is mine. not yours. stand down.” and the stomach obeys. it holds you right in its center and goes against its every instinct, merely because your pred would rather hold you tenderly within them and keep you safe from the rest of the world than give in and let you get hurt

[nombitenary]

Cw digestion talk, but all assumed regeneration

I understand the avoidance of it, but something I think is lacking in certain comfort scenarios is the unique joy of digestion. Specifically some warm goopy painless kind.

For the prey it's like sinking into a hot tub, taking a deep nap into a pool of something warm and comforting. Like being cozily wrapped up. Any lingering bad thoughts, feelings, or unpleasant physical sensations entirely erased by the sensation of melting away. literally letting their worries fall off of them and be taken away. then they're back, good as new!

likely safe in the arms of their pred.

for the pred... it takes fullness to it's logical progression. the effort of digestion luring the pred to sleep, feeling warm and comforted, gradually rejuvenated by a good meal. Feeling not just full, but also nourished, and made to feel better and heathier even beyond the instance of having their prey first slip into their gut. Getting to appreciate increased inner warmth, combined with new softness. Making them plush and chubby.

the pred also being literally rejuvenated by a person they care about, the love and trust the prey and pred hold for each other both healing them :]

I dunno man. I just really think there should be more digestion focused comfy stories. I really like the unique warmth of a preds belly burbling away as they break down a prey. and it can be super sweet when it's smth both pred and prey agree on