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ryanmarshallryan · 20 days ago

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Red, White and Bluegrass

Thank you to the anonymous commissioner who requested this sequel story to Pride Pool Party!

Nathaniel had for some time hoped to introduce his boyfriend, Jonathan, and his grandparents, and the opportunity had arisen in the form of a family 4th of July pool party barbecue at Nathaniel’s uncles’ house.

“Uncle Dave, can I leave my mandolin somewhere safe in the house?” Nathaniel asked, “While the party gets going?”

“Sure thing,” Uncle Dave led Nathaniel to a bedroom where Nathaniel’s grandparents had already left their fiddle and banjo. Nathaniel had grew up playing music with his grandparents, and now that they were visiting from across the country, he thought it’d be a perfect moment to share some Americana music for the 4th of July as well as show his boyfriend Jonathan his favorite thing to do with his grandparents.

Nathaniel found Jonathan waiting in the kitchen and lead him to the patio where his family were sitting, preparing food.

“Nana, Grandpa, I wanted to introduce you to my -” Nathaniel began, turning towards his boyfriends so that his gaze grazed over the pool in the distance… where he caught an unexpected glimpse of his younger brother, Hector, in the act of swallowing an entire firework whole, “God!” Nana didn’t think anything of this as her grandson Nathaniel, sprinted down towards the pool, assuming Nathaniel was simply trying to initiate a prayer to God or something. Grandpa and Jonathan shared an awkward look and got to introductions on their own.

Hector gagged a bit, but tried to look nonchalant as his brother came barreling towards him and his cousin. “Hey, Nate, having a good 4th of -”

“What are you doing?!” Nathaniel gave a harsh whisper to Hector, “I don’t care if you feel the need to show off your little party trick, you can’t eat fireworks! Gunpowder! You could literally die, Hector! If you don’t spit that out right now I’m gonna tell Uncle Rand!”

“When did cousin Nathaniel become a Candace?” Hector and Nathaniel’s cousin Bryant piped in, “You know, from Phineas and Ferb?” he added when the others looked at him in confusion at his unprompted comment.

“They dared me to do it,” Hector said, motioning to Bryant and his friends that were swimming in the pool.

Nathaniel, turned to the others with a hot fury rivaling the temperature of the sun at that moment. Before Nathaniel could say anything one of the friends said, “We didn’t think he’d actually do it! Only joking!”

“People are saying he actually swallowed a guy whole, I wanted to see if the black hole stomach rumors were true!” Bryant said.

“You did, did you?” Nathaniel said to Bryant, “Well then, you have your proof, now get that firework out of my brother.”

“Get it out? Me? How?” Bryant asked.

“It’s no big deal, I can just go vomit -” Hector began.

“Bryant needs to learn a lesson. Think his bottomless pit stomach is funny? Why don’t you reach in and grab that firework and pull it out, then? Not so funny if you might be on the menu, huh?”

Bryant’s eyes widened a bit, “Oh come on it was just a little joke -”

Nathaniel dug deeper, “If you don’t, I might just tell your mom.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Bryant shouted back.

“I’ll do it,” said one of the friends in the pool.

Bryant, Hector and Nathaniel turned to the friend, and responded simultaneously with “What?” “Why?” and “Who are you?” respectively making an unintelligible query.

The friend understood however, pulling himself up onto the dry ground out of the water, “I’ll go in and get the fireworks, I think it sounds kinda fun. Oh, and I’m Connor.”

“Fun?” Nathaniel asked, “Getting squeezed down an esophagus is fun?”

“Yeah, how often do you get an experience like that? Great party story.” Connor said.

“Hopefully never?” Nathaniel continued, “But alright sure, go ahead.”

“No guys, I shouldn’t have swallowed the firework. I can deal with it!” Hector began, “I don’t want to make a scene.”

“Too late,” Connor said, pushing Hector off the ledge and into the pool while he wasn’t paying attention. The boys laughed, as Hector splashed around and caught his breath. Connor asked no one in particular, “So he can actually hold a whole human in his gut?”

“More than one, actually,” Nathaniel said, “Less than a month ago I had the unfortunate experience of sharing the other side of that stomach wall with my boyfriend when he accidentally swallowed us whole.”

Bryant scoffed in disbelief, “If Hector ate you, how are you still here?”

Hector was leaning up against the rim of the pool and responded first, “Some big gay bears reached in and pulled them out!”

While Hector’s mouth was still open from speaking, Connor bent down and shot his clasped hands forward into Hector’s maw. Hector, fell backward a bit into the water, not expecting such a sudden committal to the bit. As Hector fell backward, Connor fell forward, his arms sliding down Hector’s throat quickly with the help of some water. Connor took a deep breath as his head plunged past Hector’s mouth and became tightly pressed on all sides by Hector’s maw. Hector tried to catch his balance in the water, but struggled to find his footing as his weight was rapidly changing as a full grown man was pushing down his throat. Hector felt his ribs expand and strain against Connor’s torso as it squirmed and writhed in the space between his uvula and his stomach sphincter. Hector felt some relief when Connor’s broad shoulders and head were finally entirely encased in his stomach, and leaned back to let Connor’s legs slide in more easily with gravity. Connor forgot about his search for the firework as he curled inside Hector’s belly, trying to find the air pocket at the top of the stomach, but being pushed down against Hector’s large intestine. Hector was a fairly skinny guy, and even with a big appetite, Connor found trying to find a comfortable position inside Hector’s stomach to be a bit challenging with such tight stomach walls clenching on him from all sides. Hector’s stomach was thin enough that light from the hot July sun dimly illuminated Connor’s clammy chambers with a soft reddish light. As Connor’s legs and feet finally slipped entirely past Hector’s stomach sphincter, Connor was able to turn himself upright in a ball to open his eyes and catch a breath in the air pocket. He felt fleshy walls all around him and noticed the firework underneath him that had a texture unlike anything else in the stomach. With some difficulty he pulled the object out from under him and into his point of view. But he was surprised to find it wasn’t actually a firework.

“Guys!” Connor shouted, briefly disoriented by his own voice echoing all around him in his small enclosure, “Hector didn’t even swallow a firework! This was just the box it came in! Wait a second this didn’t even have a firework in it, this is an empty box of sparklers!”

Hector was too busy catching his breath and trying not to sink underwater underneath the extra weight to respond. Bryant’s other friend helped pull Hector over to the shallower end so he could get his footing better.

Nathaniel and Bryant looked up at the patio and saw their Uncle Rand setting out a bowl of sparklers to light later that night. Bryant groaned. Nathaniel sighed in relief, then caught the gaze of his boyfriend, Jonathan, and mouthed, “Sorry.”

Jonathan got up and walked down towards the group. Nathaniel continued his apology, “I’m sorry this isn’t how I wanted introductions to go.”

Jonathan didn’t seem fazed, “Oh, it’s all good, I’ve been chatting with them a while. They sound ready to play if you’d like to gather everyone.”

“Play what?” Bryant asked.

“Nana, Grandpa and I were gonna play some bluegrass music for the family. A little Americana folk pickup concert for the holiday.”

“You like blueglass? Like country, but even more hick-town? Ugh barf!” Bryant said.

“You know what little bro, I take back what I said about how you shouldn’t eat people,” Nathaniel said, turning to Hector, and slapping Bryant hard in the back so that he was caught off balance and fell forward into the pool, directly into Hector’s open mouth, as Hector was slightly panting from exertion.

Hector’s throat had been stretched beyond its normal limit already, so Bryant’s body slid down much faster than the first. Perhaps Bryant’s jerking movements and struggles to wriggle free actually helped him squirm down into Hector’s belly more easily like quicksand. Connor had finally gotten into a comfortable position inside Hector’s belly, when he was violently jostled about by the colliding of Bryant and the back of Hector’s throat. Connor felt Hector’s stomach walls secreting stomach juice faster and the walls tensing and relaxing in rhythm trying to make space for even more meat and struggling. Bryant was not enjoying himself, but was still relieved when his face found itself inside Hector’s stomach and he could breathe again. This joy was quickly extinguished as Bryant’s face was plunged under the mixture of stomach acid, pool water, and Connor’s sweat. Connor tried to wriggle around to make space for Bryant but resulted in a more tangled web of arms and legs than if he just stayed still. Hector swallowed hard, trying desperately to have Bryant in his stomach so his airway would be unobstructed. Hector appreciated that Bryant’s other friend had grabbed Bryant's legs and held them still and was now pushing them into Hector’s maw to make the swallow more easy for him.

“I’m having deja vu,” Nathaniel said, watching his brother getting force fed human beings, grateful that at least this time he wasn’t part of the meal.

“Should we get help to get them out?” Jonathan asked. Nathaniel shrugged and gave a wave of his hand which gave the impression of “Nah.”

Bryant’s other friend coached Hector through some deep breathing once he was done swallowing. As Hector’s diaphragm was crunched by two entire humans inside his stomach, he found deep breathing to be a bit of a chore. Bryant and Connor also found it to be uncomfortable, as each deep breath of Hector’s pushed them closer together in an awkward clump.

“Your elbow is my ribs!” shouted Bryant, struggling with Connor inside Hector’s clammy stomach.

“What do you want me to do? There’s only so much space in here,” Connor replied.

“Hey! Stop touching my butt,” Bryant called out.

“My hand isn’t even near your butt, you’re probably just feeling Hector’s stomach rugae trying to tenderize you for digestion,” Connor said, matter-of-factly.

“Hector’s what?! Hell no, this is the 4th of July! I want my freedom! I want my independence from this gut!” Bryant said in a frustrated tone, grunting as Connor shifted his body again.

Hector, took his hands and rubbed his massively distended belly, feeling it stretch and groan. He was grateful that he was at least in a pool which helped offset the pressure of gravity on his body and belly. He fought back a belch, trying to make sure his friends had enough air inside his belly.

“Bryant, your body is so tense, you’re making it worse in here,” Connor said.

“Of course I am tense!” Bryant said.

“If you relax, your muscles a bit, we’ll be able to fit together in here better,” Connor explained.

Bryant groaned, but tried to do as his friend said. He noticed the stomach wall flush with his back seemed to be wriggling slightly, as the stomach muscles gave slight expansions and contractions. It made him cringe at first, but as he imagined it being an incredibly unusual massage, he was able to relax into it a bit.

“See?” Connor said, wiggling his body to be chest to chest with Bryant, as their legs folded underneath them. Connor felt the tight pressure of the stomach wall against his legs, added to the pressure of the pool water beyond the belly. There was another increasing pressure up against his thigh, and Connor realised it was a surprise from Bryant.

“What happens in Hector’s stomach, stays in Hector’s stomach, deal?” Bryant said, feeling Connor’s warm, quickened breath against his neck as their bodies were forcibly shoved together, and jostled around by the belly as if they were bouncing on a bed together.

“Bro, someone seems happy to be cuddled up in a human stomach with me,” Connor said, tauntingly.

“It’s a natural physical reaction!” Bryant said defensively, “Probably all this jostling around. Maybe the adrenaline.” Bryant tried to shift his hard-on away from Connor, but just ended up rubbing it against him, unable to avoid such close encounters.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Connor said, “Homies can be into each other. And we are literally in our homie! Ha!”

“You guys do know we can hear everything you’re saying down there, right?” said Nathaniel. Connor burst out laughing, as Bryant silently blushed, and Hector groaned as Connor’s laughing jiggled his bell and tickled his insides.

“Jumping jellyfish!” Uncle Rand had made his way down to the pool to check on everyone, “I haven’t even served the burgers yet! What did you eat?!”

“For the record, I was against all of this!” Hector said, ending his statement on an “urp.”

Nathaniel explained about the dare and how it resulted in Bryant and his friend curled up inside Hector’s belly. Bryan and Connor tried to listen to the conversation happening outside the gut, but the dull roar of the underwater sounds made their way through Hector’s stomach lining so they found it hard to understand anything.

Uncle Rand stared in disbelief at Hector, who gave a bashful, apologetic look back at him. Uncle Rand jumped into the water, clothes and all, saying “Connor is a guest! We don’t eat guests!”

“What about Bryant?” Asked Bryant’s friend.

“What about Bryant?” Uncle Rand said, putting his mouth close to Hector’s tight belly, “How’s everyone doing down there?”

Bryant and Connor gave contradictory responses, as Bryant was yearning to feel the cool pool water on his skin again in contrast to the boiling hot stomach acid surrounding him, while Connor was enjoying the human hot tub despite its tight confines and annoying company.

“If anyone wants to know how I am, I am fine, just really full,” Hector said, slightly dejected at everyone more concerned for the people in his gut rather than him, who had a stomach medically bloated much more than the average human gut should be possible to. It was a wonder he hadn’t blown up like a firework for real.

“Hector, I don’t want to cause you any discomfort… and I also do not want to put my hands anywhere they shouldn’t be, but out of necessity and an abundance of caution, I feel I need to ask your permission to reach down and pull out that nice young fellow Connor before he is digested by your understandably unforgiving stomach.” Uncle Rand explained.

Hector was confused by the monologue, but shrugged and assented. But another voice called out, before Uncle Rand could do anything.

“Don’t worry, we’re having a ball down here,” Connor said, and added in a whisper to Bryant, “maybe four.”

Bryant attempted to punch Connor in the gut, “I would very much enjoy not being digested!”

Nathaniel smirked and said, “Hey Uncle Rand, Bryant doesn’t like bluegrass music anyway. Maybe he won’t hear it as well if he stays in Hector’s gut during our little show.”

“Well, it’s up to Hector,” Uncle Rand said, “How are you feeling there, bud?”

Hector was just happy someone was checking on him, and said, “Just a bit exhausted from all that. Maybe taking a break to slow my breathing would help before getting them out.”

“Y’all ready for some music!” Grandpa shouted, coming out from the house with his banjo, oblivious to the activity down by the pool. He handed Nana her fiddle and everyone on the patio made their way down to the pool area.

Uncle Rand turned back to Hector, “Alright then, as soon as they finish playing we are getting those fellas out of your gut, but you can relax till then.”

While most of the family got situated with food and seats on the grass and lawn chairs by the pool, Nana, Grandpa and Nathaniel got out their instruments and began tuning. Even from deep within Hector’s belly, Bryant began to groan about the bluegrass music, so Hector gave his belly a smack and said softly, so only the inhabitants of his belly could hear, “If you ruin this for my brother I will literally digest you.” Bryant gave in to his insane circumstances and stopped being annoying for the rest of the day. Bryant’s friends were just happy to be there. And Jonathan smiled up at Nathaniel.

The music was beautiful. Maybe not professional, but Nana and Grandpa were happy, so the whole family was happy. Nathaniel was focused, and happy he had the opportunity to play music with them again once more. Uncle Dave surprised everyone by bringing out his guitar and they all played “Rocky Top” together. Connor found the music to be fascinating from within Hector’s gut, listening to how the music seemed to have a low pass filter placed on it, so he could hear the lower frequencies of the sounds best. Bryant just tried to focus on his breathing, trying to tune out the feeling of stomach acid tingling against his skin, and willing his hard-on to stop bumping up against Connor as Hector’s stomach contracted them together.

After putting away his instrument, Nathaniel came over to the group in and by the pool, and saw that Uncle Rand was coaching Hector on preparing to help his friends out.

“Well then, take one more deep breath for me!” Uncle Rand said, climbing up onto Hector’s belly, and reaching one arm deep down into Hector’s maw, “Oh my! This is a funny feeling. I think I may have to go a bit deeper,” Uncle Rand found his face right up against Hector’s teeth, “I apologize but I might need some back-up, can someone grab my legs?” Uncle Rand took a deep breath as he was pulled deeper into Hector’s maw. Hector couldn’t help his peristalsis, especially when it was beginning to get the hang of swallowing entire humans at this point.

Hector pushed forward so that his stomach was up against the pool wall. Nathaniel groaned and grabbed one of his uncle’s legs, while Jonathan grabbed the other.

“Last time we needed big strong bears to pull us out, are we gonna be strong enough?” Jonathan asked, as he felt the leg he was holding lurch forward slightly as Uncle Rand was pulled deeper. Just then, He felt a heavy hand grab his shoulder from behind.

“Luckily you still have one gay bear hosting this little shindig,” Uncle Dave had appeared. The family on the patio had noticed the commotion. How they didn’t notice Hector’s gargantuan gut before that moment, and even throughout the set of music is one of life’s great mysteries. Nana was reciting the Lord’s Prayer, thinking her grandson was possessed or something, Grandpa was casually eating a burger, oblivious to anything happening, and the other extended family waited and watched the unexpected bonus show.

Uncle Dave acted as an anchor, holding down Nathaniel and Jonathan from being pulled forward. Bryant’s other friend who was still in the pool at this point decided to start pushing on Hector’s stomach from under the water, and gradually Uncle Rand started to reverse direction, and the boys were able to start pulling him back out of Hector’s maw. First came Uncle Rand, spluttering and gasping, then attached to his strong arm was another arm. Connor was being pulled out of Hector’s digestive grasps. Once Uncle Rand was fully free, he knelt on the ground by the pool and everyone grabbed a part of Connor’s arm and pulled hard. Hector was close to passing out from lack of oxygen at this point so they ramped up speed, grunting and heaving with all their might. Connor’s legs were free at last, and holding on to them were more hands. Bryant was clutching on so tightly he was drawing blood with his fingernails. Within moments Bryant tumbled forward onto Connor and Uncle Rand. Connor pushed Bryant off them and into the pool.

Hector slumped forward from exhaustion. Uncle Rand dove back into the water and put one of Hector’s arms over his shoulder, and Bryant’s other friend did the same and they pulled him out of the pool.

Once Hector was seated in a lounge chair, he finally got the attention he felt was lacking. Now that no one was at the mercy of his digestion, the family seemed more attuned to making sure he was alright, as Uncle Dave brought him a dozen burgers (just to be safe in case Hector got hungry again), and Uncle Rand threw towels at everyone.

Uncle Rand leaned over to whisper to Jonathan, “It’s been great to meet you. I’m sorry our family has been so dysfunctional for you! I hope your holiday has been nice despite the almost human digestion that occurred today.”

“Oh, no, thank you! It’s been a perfect American holiday. Some nice bluegrass music, lots of family at a barbecue, people overeating and cousins shoving their opinions down others throats, only that was more literal today.”

The rest of the holiday went smoothly. They built a fire, made smores, lit sparklers, watched neighbors’ fireworks in the distance, and no one got digested. Not even Bryant! Though some thought the family peace would be better if he did get digested. Hector rubbed his gut, feeling his still overstretched skin, but satisfied that it was now full of burgers and smores and American pie. That’s what Nana and Grandpa call their blueberry, strawberry, banana mix pie.

Hector lifted his head and turned to Bryant and Connor, joking “So… how about a round two?”

Bryant immediately got up, saying “I’m good,” and dove back into the pool and swam to the far end of the pool. Connor and Hector shared a laugh, while Nathaniel made a cautionary motion with his fingers, to say “I’m watching you.” Jonathan rolled his eyes, and pulled Nathaniel away from his attention on his mischievous brother, and kissed him on the lips.

“Sparks are flying,” Nathaniel said, smiling.

“Happy Independence Day,” Jonathan replied, his eyes softening towards his boyfriend, as more fireworks went off in the distance.

I tried to make some drawings again to go along with this story! Hope y'all enjoy my doodles lol

#gayvore #male vore #m/m vore #gay vore #commission

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ryanmarshallryan · 1 month ago

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Stuffed

A commission from a lovely user here on Tumblr, thank you for commissioning me!

Content: Accidental vore, digestion, belly bulge, belly noises, squirming prey, struggling prey, internal struggle, swollen belly, round belly, casual vore, male pred, human pred, M/M, large belly, stomach noises, tight stomach, prey struggling inside, unwilling prey, teasing, male prey, digestion noises, beginner gainer, dominant pred, resigned pred.

"Alright, bro, one more bite," Ethan grinned, his hand outstretched, holding a loaded fork of buttery mashed potatoes.

Across from him, Dylan leaned back against the couch, shirtless, his blue "Growth" shorts hanging low on his hips. His stomach had the faintest curve of fullness, a soft bloat that pushed out just slightly over his waistband. He rubbed a hand across it absently, his other arm propped lazily on the couch's armrest.

He had a lean, athletic build, the kind that came from a mix of casual workouts and an easy metabolism. His chest and arms were defined but not bulky, with a light tan that suggested he spent more time outside than in the gym. His short, ashy-brown hair was slightly messy, the kind of style that didn’t take much effort to look decent, paired with a subtle goatee that gave his otherwise youthful face a touch of maturity. His hazel eyes had a sharpness to them, but his expressions were easygoing, often softening into an amused smirk or a raised brow. A faint tattoo curved just above his left pectoral, simple and understated, like it was more for him than anyone else. He carried himself with a relaxed posture, like someone who wasn’t in a rush to impress anyone but was comfortable in his own skin.

"Bro, I already feel like I’m about to pop," Dylan groaned, though the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. His breath hitched slightly as Ethan pressed the fork closer, right under his nose. "You're insane."

"Insane?" Ethan scoffed, stepping closer with mock offense. "You’re the one who said you wanted to bulk up. I'm just being a good friend. Now, open up. Don’t make me force-feed your ass."

Dylan huffed but opened his mouth, letting Ethan shove the forkful in. "Mmm," he mumbled through a mouthful, rolling his eyes but still chewing. The rich, salty flavor of the potatoes filled his mouth as he swallowed it down. He patted his stomach again, laughing under his breath. "Seriously, I look like I’m carrying a food baby already."

Ethan smirked, grabbing a chicken thigh from the plate on the coffee table. "Baby? Nah, that’s like a first-trimester snack, my guy. You’ve got plenty of room in there." His eyes flicked down to Dylan’s midsection, watching the subtle swell with something bordering on fascination. "Besides, you know what they say: abs are made in the kitchen."

"Yeah," Dylan shot back, smirking. "And you're trying to turn me into a damn Michelin Man in the kitchen."

Ethan snorted, tossing the bone aside as he tore off another piece of meat. "Shut up. You’re gonna thank me when you’re benching 250 and lookin’ thick as hell. Now sit up straight, you're makin’ my job harder."

Dylan rolled his eyes but sat forward slightly, his stomach pushing out more as he leaned toward the plate. Ethan wasted no time, piling another forkful of potatoes onto a slice of steak and practically shoving it into Dylan's mouth.

"Jesus, dude," Dylan muttered after swallowing, reaching up to wipe a bit of grease off his lip. "You’re really tryna kill me with this. I can feel it hitting my ribs."

"You’ll live," Ethan teased, grinning wider. His hand brushed briefly against Dylan’s stomach as he reached for another forkful of food, fingers grazing the soft swell. "Or maybe not. Damn, you’re starting to feel solid."

Dylan blinked, heat rushing to his face at the comment, though he quickly covered it up with a laugh. "Solid? You’re making it sound like I’m some kind of stuffed turkey."

"Not yet," Ethan shot back, eyes twinkling with amusement. He jabbed the fork toward Dylan’s mouth again. "But we’re getting there."

Dylan sighed but relented, taking another bite. As he chewed, Ethan leaned back slightly, hands on his hips, observing his friend like an artist sizing up their work. Dylan’s belly was noticeably fuller now, his posture slightly slouched as he adjusted to the growing pressure in his gut. A small hiccup escaped him, and he gave Ethan a playful glare.

"Alright, that’s it. I’m cutting you off before I explode," Dylan declared, waving a hand.

But Ethan’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew wider. He leaned in again, one eyebrow cocked. "C’mon, you’ve got this. One more bite for the gains. Just one." His voice dropped, teasing. "Don’t quit on me now, champ."

Dylan hesitated, glancing between the plate of food and Ethan’s stupidly smug expression. "You’re the worst," he muttered, but his mouth opened anyway.

Ethan didn’t hesitate, stuffing the next bite in before Dylan could change his mind. What neither of them noticed, though, was how Ethan’s hand lingered just a moment too long, fingers brushing the corner of Dylan’s lips and then sliding back toward his chin, as if guiding him to chew, to swallow, to take in more.

Ethan leaned forward, his hand clutching another loaded fork of steak and potatoes, his eyes locked on Dylan’s stomach. "Man, for someone who’s just starting out, you’re already rocking a solid gut. Beginner my ass—you’re built for this, dude," he teased, his tone playful but insistent. He gave Dylan’s belly a light smack, the faint jiggle beneath his fingers making him grin. "C’mon, don’t go soft on me now."

Dylan groaned, leaning back again with a sharp exhale. His hand instinctively drifted to his bloated stomach, rubbing the tight, stretched skin. "Ethan, seriously, I’m about to explode. This is—ugh—getting ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" Ethan echoed with mock disbelief. He dropped the fork back onto the plate and grabbed a slider bun stuffed with pulled pork. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed it toward Dylan’s lips. "What’s ridiculous is you whining when you’ve got the gut to take way more than this. Now open up, champ."

Dylan turned his head away, laughing despite himself. "You’re relentless, man. I’m gonna regret this."

"You’ll regret it more if you quit," Ethan countered, his tone dipping into something more taunting. "What kind of gainer gives up at halftime, huh? You wanna be soft and small forever, or are we doing this?"

"God, you’re annoying," Dylan muttered, but his mouth opened anyway, reluctantly letting Ethan shove the slider in. The bread and meat were warm and rich, the flavors almost overwhelming as he chewed and swallowed. The pressure in his gut tightened, and he let out a low belch that caught him by surprise.

"That’s what I’m talking about," Ethan laughed, giving Dylan’s stomach another firm pat. "You’re just getting started, big guy. Let’s go for round two."

"I hate you," Dylan said, but the grin tugging at the corners of his lips betrayed him.

Ethan didn’t stop. He grabbed another handful of food—this time a fistful of fries—and pushed them toward Dylan’s face. "Hate me all you want, but you’ll love the gains, I promise. Now shut up and eat."

Dylan opened his mouth begrudgingly, but this time Ethan didn’t stop at fries. His hand lingered, his fingers pressing a little further into Dylan’s mouth as he nudged the last bits in.

"Yeah, just like that—" Ethan started, but his voice cut off as Dylan instinctively swallowed, his throat working over Ethan’s fingers.

Ethan froze. "Uh, Dylan? You good?" he asked, his voice half-laughing, half-worried.

Dylan’s brows knitted in confusion as he blinked up at him. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and a warm, wet pressure encased Ethan’s hand. It was only when Ethan tried to pull back and felt the suction tugging his fingers deeper that the realization hit them both.

"Bro," Ethan stammered, wide-eyed. "Are you—are you swallowing me?"

Ethan didn’t stop. He reached for the plate again, piling on more food, ignoring Dylan’s protests as if they were nothing more than background noise. Dylan slouched further back into the couch, his stomach visibly rising now, pressing against his shorts’ waistband. The faint curve from earlier had grown into a noticeable roundness, and every breath he took seemed to stretch his skin tighter over the packed fullness beneath.

Ethan leaned forward, smirking as he grabbed a slice of steak and some potatoes, rolling them together in one hand. "Come on, beginner boy," he said, his voice low and teasing. "You said you wanted gains, right? Well, you’ve got the gut for it now. Let’s fill it up properly."

Dylan groaned, his hands resting limply over his stomach like they might somehow hold back the growing pressure. Ethan paid no attention. His hand hovered just above Dylan’s mouth, the mashed potatoes already starting to smear along Dylan’s lips as he pressed the bundle closer. Dylan turned his head slightly, grumbling under his breath, but Ethan tilted his chin back with a firm nudge.

"Open up," Ethan said, almost a growl, his fingers steady as they pushed the food forward. Dylan’s jaw parted reluctantly, and Ethan slid the food in, his thumb grazing over Dylan’s tongue as he withdrew his hand.

The swallow was audible, a thick, wet gulp that made Dylan wince and breathe out sharply. Ethan’s eyes darted down, catching the way Dylan’s bloated stomach tensed with the effort, the skin stretching taut like an overinflated balloon.

"Shit, bro," Ethan muttered, half-laughing as he grabbed another piece of steak and mashed potatoes from the plate. "Look at that belly. You’re already looking stuffed, and we’re just getting started." He pressed the next piece into Dylan’s mouth, watching with a strange mix of satisfaction and fascination as Dylan’s throat worked to swallow it down. The sound was heavier now, slower, and Dylan’s chest heaved slightly as he fought to keep up.

"Too much," Dylan rasped, his voice hoarse as he leaned back further, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. His hands drifted to his stomach, fingers brushing the curve of his gut like he didn’t quite believe how big it had gotten.

"Nah, you’re fine," Ethan said, his tone dismissive as he reached for more food. "You wanted to bulk up, didn’t you? You gotta eat like it, man. Don’t go quitting on me now."

Ethan leaned in closer this time, holding the next bite to Dylan’s lips, but this time, Dylan’s head tilted slightly. His lips parted again, more out of instinct than intent, and Ethan didn’t hesitate. He pressed the food forward, guiding it into Dylan’s mouth. Dylan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, the movement slower now, more strained.

But Ethan didn’t pull back. His hand lingered too long this time, fingers still brushing Dylan’s tongue as he went to add more. Dylan’s mouth opened wider, reflexively, and before either of them realized it, his lips closed around Ethan’s fingers.

Ethan froze, a laugh bubbling in his throat. "Uh, bro?" he started, but Dylan’s throat worked again, and his hand was tugged forward, the warmth of Dylan’s mouth closing further up his wrist.

Dylan’s eyes were closed, moaning, his instincts already taking over. His throat contracted, pulling Ethan’s hand in deeper, his body working on autopilot. Ethan’s laugh faltered, replaced with a sharp intake of breath as he tried to pull back, but Dylan’s grip was stronger than either of them expected.

Dylan’s throat worked rhythmically, completely out of sync with the reality of what was happening. Ethan’s hand slid deeper, his wrist vanishing past Dylan’s lips as his throat bulged slightly with the effort. Each swallow was slow, steady, and deliberate, though Dylan’s glazed expression and the dazed heaviness in his half-lidded eyes showed he was oblivious to the situation.

Ethan’s arm twitched as he tried to pull back, but it was no use. Dylan’s body had its own agenda now, driven by the instinct to consume and keep going. His throat tightened again, the powerful muscles drawing Ethan further in, pulling his forearm past the curve of Dylan’s jaw. The wet, slick sound of swallowing filled the room, almost drowned out by Ethan’s sudden, stifled grunt as his arm disappeared up to the elbow.

"D-Dylan!" Ethan gasped, his voice breaking as he tried to yank his arm free, the motion only helping Dylan’s throat work faster. Dylan leaned back instinctively, his head tilting to make the process easier, his body operating on autopilot. The movement caused his stomach to shift, and he grunted softly, his free hand absently rubbing the firm swell beneath his ribs as if that might help the growing discomfort.

The tight pull of his throat forced Ethan’s other arm up, making him lose balance. His torso pressed against Dylan’s chest, and Dylan’s lips widened naturally to accommodate the new bulk. His jaw stretched wider, effortlessly taking Ethan’s shoulder as if it were second nature.

Ethan’s muffled protests were drowned in the slick, squelching sounds of Dylan’s throat, each contraction pulling him deeper, his chest sinking into the warm, flexing grip of Dylan’s gullet. Dylan didn’t even pause, didn’t seem to register the increasing weight pressing against him. His throat bulged visibly, his body instinctively adjusting to the load as he swallowed again, this time with a wet, audible gulp that sent Ethan’s upper chest sliding deeper.

His lips stretched around Ethan’s ribs, his throat working mechanically to draw him further in. Dylan shifted slightly, leaning forward now as Ethan’s weight dragged him, forcing him to adjust. His hands gripped the couch, his fingers tightening as his body found a rhythm, each powerful gulp guiding Ethan’s frame deeper, with no signs of hesitation or awareness.

Ethan’s legs kicked weakly as his waist reached Dylan’s lips. The taut curve of Dylan’s throat pressed against his own chest, Ethan’s muffled voice barely audible now, drowned beneath the steady, wet noise of swallowing. Dylan’s gut began to swell noticeably, the taut curve expanding into something larger, rounder, as more of Ethan’s body slid inside.

Another deep swallow sent Ethan’s hips into Dylan’s mouth, the weight pressing down on his lap as his stomach stretched further, rounder, the skin tight and gleaming with strain. Dylan groaned softly, his hand pressing against the growing dome of his gut, but there was no hesitation in his body’s movements. His throat bulged again as Ethan’s thighs slid past his lips, the sensation barely registering.

Ethan’s calves were next, and Dylan leaned back into the couch again, his lips parting wider as he tilted his head back to let gravity assist the final stretch. His throat flexed powerfully, a deep, wet gulp sending Ethan’s knees down, his legs curling slightly as they disappeared further.

With one final swallow, Dylan’s lips closed around Ethan’s toes, his throat tightening to draw them down in a smooth, final motion. He exhaled heavily, his chest rising and falling as his body finally stilled. His gut was massive now, a heaving, tightly-stretched dome that pinned him against the couch, the weight pressing heavily on his thighs.

Dylan blinked slowly, his hand resting on the crest of his swollen stomach, his breath steadying as he absentmindedly rubbed the taut skin. A low, soft groan escaped him, his body adjusting to the fullness without a single ounce of realization of what he had just done.

Dylan let out a long, slow exhale, his hand dragging lazily over the massive curve of his stomach. His head tipped back against the couch as his breathing steadied, his whole body feeling sluggish and heavy, like he’d just polished off a buffet for ten. Except… this wasn’t just food. Something wasn’t adding up.

A muffled sound from deep within his gut snapped his eyes open. His brow furrowed as he stared down at the swollen dome pressing against his thighs. The weight felt… different. Denser. Shifting faintly under his palm, almost like—

“Shit,” Dylan muttered, his voice breaking the quiet. He blinked again, slower this time, his hand pausing mid-rub. His brain, still hazy from the sheer effort of swallowing, tried to piece together what the hell had just happened. His fingers pressed into the firm, tight swell of his belly, feeling the stretched skin and the subtle movement beneath.

"Bro?" he said aloud, his voice low, almost uncertain. Another muffled sound came from inside, louder this time, followed by a distinct push against the inside of his gut—something pressing back. Dylan’s stomach gurgled in protest, a loud, drawn-out groan that felt more like a warning than anything else.

He groaned, leaning forward slightly and bracing a hand on the couch, the motion causing his stomach to shift. “No way… No fuckin’ way.” His free hand pressed harder into the taut curve, the heat radiating from his belly only making the realization sink in further. Ethan wasn’t just gone—he was inside.

The weight was unreal, heavier than anything Dylan had ever imagined, his gut stretching farther than it had any right to. He glanced down at the way it pushed out over the waistband of his shorts, the tight skin gleaming faintly in the dim light. His gut was rock-solid, packed full not just with food but with— “Holy shit, bro,” Dylan muttered again, his voice dropping into something between disbelief and faint amusement. “You’re in there with all the mashed potatoes and steak. What the actual fuck.”

A muffled shout rose up from his stomach, faint but definitely Ethan’s voice. Dylan blinked, processing the sound, but it was barely distinguishable—just a low, frustrated string of noises completely swallowed by the layers of muscle and skin keeping Ethan pinned inside. Dylan couldn’t make out a single word, but he could feel the vibrations of Ethan trying to shout, the faint shifting as Ethan squirmed.

“Dude, it’s tight as hell in there, huh?” Dylan said, more to himself than anyone else, his lips quirking into a faint, sheepish grin. He rubbed a hand over his belly again, fingers trailing over the taut curve, pausing where he felt the most movement. “Guess that’s what you get for force-feeding me, huh? You wanted me to bulk up, and now you’re part of it.”

Another muffled noise came from inside, followed by what felt like a weak kick against the inner wall of Dylan’s gut. The sensation made him wince slightly, his stomach gurgling loudly in protest. “Alright, alright, chill out in there. You’re not exactly making this easier for either of us.” He leaned back again, trying to shift into a position that didn’t press the weight of his gut so hard against his thighs. The movement only made the pressure worse, his belly groaning as it adjusted to the strain.

Dylan sighed, dragging a hand through his messy hair and letting his head fall back again. “How the hell did I even manage that?” he muttered, almost to himself. “I mean, you’re not exactly small, dude. Jesus.”

Another push from inside made him sit up straighter, his gut wobbling slightly from the motion. Ethan was clearly not settling down, and Dylan could feel the tight, cramped movements as his friend tried to reposition himself among the mess of food. His gut let out another low groan, the sounds inside almost as loud as Ethan’s muffled protests.

“Alright, bro, I get it,” Dylan said, his tone a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement. He slapped the side of his belly lightly, feeling the vibrations ripple through. “You wanna get out. I hear ya. I just… I gotta figure out how to do that without making this whole thing worse.”

He leaned forward again, bracing both hands on his belly, his fingers pressing into the firm, stretched skin. The weight made it hard to move, let alone think, but he could feel Ethan shifting inside, trying to find space that simply wasn’t there. Dylan grimaced, his mind racing for a solution.

“Okay,” he muttered, half to himself. “Let’s figure this out before I actually end up digesting your ass.” His stomach gurgled loudly at the mention, and he frowned, swatting it lightly. “Don’t even think about it, man.”

He shifted again, his hands steadying the massive dome of his belly as he tried to stand. The weight pulled him back down almost immediately, and he grunted, planting his feet more firmly.

Dylan groaned, leaning over the kitchen sink as his gut let out another wet, ominous gurgle. His palms braced against the counter, his belly pressing uncomfortably into the edge. He’d been trying for hours to fix this—to undo what he’d somehow, impossibly, done—but nothing was working.

He’d tried everything. First, he tried drinking water, guzzling down glass after glass, hoping it might loosen something or make Ethan’s situation more bearable. But all it did was make his gut slosh even louder, the added weight stretching his stomach tighter, more painfully. Ethan’s muffled voice—barely audible at this point—had been filled with frustrated grunts and weak cries, but even those had started to fade.

Then Dylan had tried forcing himself to throw up. He jammed his fingers down his throat repeatedly, gagging over the sink, his eyes watering from the effort. But nothing came up. His stomach clenched painfully, but it refused to release anything. If anything, it felt tighter, like his body was digging in, holding onto everything inside, refusing to let go.

“Goddammit,” Dylan muttered, his voice shaky. He paced the kitchen in slow, uneven steps, his swollen gut swaying slightly with the motion. Every step sent another wave of pressure rolling through him, his stomach groaning as if mocking him. “Ethan, bro, I’m trying, I swear,” he said, though he knew Ethan couldn’t understand him. The muffled protests from inside had turned into weak, occasional noises, barely registering against the wet, relentless churn of digestion.

The hours ticked by, and every failed attempt to get Ethan out only made the situation worse. Dylan tried jumping, bending, twisting, anything to dislodge the mass in his gut. He even laid flat on the floor, pushing and kneading at his belly like he was trying to coax something stuck out of a drain. But nothing worked. Ethan didn’t budge.

“Fuck, man,” Dylan said, his voice breaking as he sat back against the couch, sweat glistening on his forehead. His gut was massive now, swollen and heavy, the skin flushed and stretched taut. Every few minutes, it would let out another deep, wet groan, the sound of digestion growing louder, more insistent. He pressed his hands into his belly, feeling the faint movements inside—Ethan’s weak struggles becoming less and less frequent.

“I didn’t mean for this,” Dylan whispered, his voice cracking. He rubbed his belly again, his fingers trailing over the tight curve. He could feel the heat radiating from it, the way his body was working overtime to process everything inside. Including Ethan. Especially Ethan.

Another muffled groan came from within, followed by a sharp kick that made Dylan wince. “I know, bro, I know,” he said, his voice shaking. “I don’t want this either, alright?” His throat tightened as he said the words, the weight of them settling heavily in his chest. “But I don’t know what else to do.”

He leaned back, his head resting against the couch as he stared at the ceiling, his breaths shallow and uneven. The hours had dragged on, and it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the reality of what was happening. His body wasn’t waiting. It was working, relentless, determined to break Ethan down, no matter how much Dylan wanted to stop it.

He leaned back, his head resting against the couch as he stared at the ceiling, his breaths slow and steady. The hours had dragged on, and Dylan’s body had made its decision long before his brain had caught up. His stomach wasn’t waiting. It worked relentlessly, determined to break Ethan down, no matter how much he’d fought it at first. Now, though? Now he was just done fighting.

Ethan’s muffled cries had weakened into faint, pitiful noises, barely audible over the deep, rolling churns of Dylan’s gut. The earlier frantic kicks and shoves had dulled to pathetic twitches, barely registering anymore against the stretched walls of his belly. Dylan pressed his hand to the side of his gut, feeling the faint, fading resistance beneath the tight skin. It was almost like his friend was giving up, and honestly, Dylan wasn’t far behind.

“Man, you’re still at it?” Dylan muttered, rubbing the firm swell of his stomach. His voice was calm, almost lazy, with a sharp edge of indifference. “Hate to break it to you, but I think you’re outta options in there. You’re not going anywhere, bro. Not now.”

Another wet groan rumbled through his gut, deep and loud, almost mocking. Dylan smirked faintly, shifting on the couch to get comfortable, the weight of his bloated stomach pressing heavily into his thighs. His hand dragged across the massive dome, his fingers tracing the curve where Ethan was packed tight. “Guess that’s just how it’s gonna be,” he said, his tone casual, like they were talking about the weather. “Shit happens, man. You knew what you were getting into when you started stuffing me like that.”

He could feel Ethan still moving weakly, little nudges against the unyielding walls of his stomach, but the fight was almost gone. Every twitch was slower, weaker than the last. Dylan rubbed his belly absently, feeling the churns grow stronger as his body doubled down, working Ethan into the mess of food still sitting heavily in his gut.

“Man, I tried,” Dylan said, though there wasn’t much conviction in his voice. “I gave it a shot, but let’s be real—you were dead weight from the jump. And now? Now you’re just dinner.” He snorted softly, giving his belly a light slap. “Guess you’re finally pulling your weight, though. Literally.”

Ethan’s movements stilled briefly before resuming, but they were faint, almost nonexistent now. Dylan felt the shift inside as his gut gurgled louder, the sounds deep and deliberate. His body wasn’t just digesting—it was finishing the job, and Dylan was past the point of caring.

“Yeah, man,” he muttered, his voice quieter now but no less resigned. “It is what it is. You’re not getting out of there. So you might as well stop squirming and make it easy for both of us.” He leaned back further, his hand still rubbing lazy circles over his stomach, the heat from his gut almost comforting now.

Another deep, wet groan echoed from inside, louder this time, followed by the faintest twitch from Ethan. Dylan smirked again, his hand pressing into the heavy curve of his belly. “See? That’s better. Just let it happen, bro. You’re not getting out, so you might as well settle in.”

Ethan’s muffled voice had faded into silence now, drowned beneath the relentless churns and gurgles of digestion. Dylan let his eyes drift shut, the weight of his gut pinning him to the couch, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time in hours.

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