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voraciousvore · 11 months ago

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Giganterra (Chapter 46)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (45) | Next (47)

Content Warning: Soft vore, full tour (not explicit at the end), sexual themes, some graphic descriptions of digestion (prey does not actually get digested)

Word Count: 3.1k

------ Chapter 46: Living Labyrinth ------

Candy sat in Hardon’s stomach, watching the living meat walls shift and churn in a rhythmic pattern. The growls from his stomach as it attempted to digest her rumbled like an earthquake and thundered in her ears. The acid swirled and fizzed around her, breaking down unrecognizable chunks of dissolving food into grotesque mush.

She had been in this stinking sack of meat many, many times by now. However, this particular instance was different. Her fear was fresh, the tension as harsh and palpable as the noxious fumes. Candy was terrified the king would uphold his threat to not let her out. The last place she wanted to die was inside him, to be absorbed into his body, to become one with the giant she found so repulsive.

The king went about his day as usual, walking and moving and sitting. Candy sloshed around in his belly with every movement, lapped by waves of acid. Even when he was at rest, his colossal body was alive around her, throbbing and beating and squelching. When he spoke, the deep, rich tones reverberated through his viscera, filling the hollow spaces in his body and Candy’s like the omniscient voice of a grand deity. Most of the time, Candy could hear him droning on in conversations to other people, but she had to strain to hear anyone else.

She snapped to attention when she realized he was addressing her directly. “Time is sliding through your fingers, darling,” he cooed, rubbing his belly maliciously. Candy could see the compression from the inside, squishing into the stomach lining. “You don’t have much of it left.”

“L-let me out of here!” she shouted. She channeled all her frustration and fear into her fist and punched the pressed-in stomach wall with all her might. The deep rumble of a chuckle rolled through the hollow belly, knocking her off her feet. Candy quaked with dread at the terrible sound, tears springing into her eyes.

“Not this time,” the giant boomed. Candy shuddered as the sonic vibrations reverberated within the fleshy cavity.

“P-p-please!” Candy wailed. “Why would you do this to me? I’m not ready to die!” All she got in response was another uproarious chuckle that made her skin crawl.

“Darling... it’s up to you whether you live or die now. If you have the tenacity and mettle to pull through, you might have a chance to survive.” Candy opened her mouth to yell back, only to be tossed backwards as the giant stood up and started walking. She flailed helplessly as the choppy waves of gastric juices slapped her and threatened to subsume her.

She ruminated on his words with confusion as she rocked in the churning digestive organ, the muscular walls kneading in a regular pattern. The stomach groaned and grumbled as it labored to break her down, just like any other bite of meat. What was she supposed to do? She was trapped. There was no way out. She couldn’t exactly crawl up his throat and free herself. The entrance to the stomach, a ring of tight muscle, pulsed high above her head, out of reach.

She went limp with wretched anguish, unable to stop the flow of tears again. She didn’t know what to do. Nobody was here to help or comfort her, not even Millie. She was going to die a slow and excruciating death, alone, with only mushy slop for company. The acid splashed around her, dragging her with the current from one end of the stomach to the other. Candy didn’t want to imagine what would happen when the magic serum wore off, and she’d be digested alive. It was too horrific to contemplate; her conscious mind shirked away from it.

She observed, with foreboding, that the digested pulp was gradually draining out of the stomach. She’d noted the phenomenon before, of course, without much thought of what came next. The food contained in the stomach, once broken down into a slurry, would move on into the next stage of digestion, to the intestines. The nutrients would be further processed and absorbed, and the remainder disposed of. A natural, consistent function, of course, one that comprised the inner world of the giant king. His gastrointestinal system was like an efficient industrial machine, excising the nutrients from the food that he ingested, transforming it into an unrecognizable state as it journeyed entirely through his colossal body, from entrance to exit. Orifice to orifice. Mouth to anus.

There was a way out. The realization, rather than bringing relief, filled her with horror. She wasn’t ready to explore the unknown depths of his bowels. Candy was so repulsed by the very notion, that she could scarcely even bring herself to consider the idea. However, being reduced to chyme herself didn’t sound any better. She swam around in the pocket of flesh, searching. Her bare foot bumped into a bulbous protrusion at the base of the stomach, partially submerged in gastric fluid. Candy looked down to behold another restricted orifice, similar to the one from which she entered the stomach from the esophagus.

She froze up, a sickening dread cascading over her. She didn’t want to do this. She wanted to cry again, but she knew it would do her no good. A baleful grumble emanated the boiling sea, making her shudder at the implications. She envisioned her skin peeling of, layer by layer, to expose the raw muscles underneath. The flesh melting away to reveal the shocking white of her bones. Suffocation as the acidic effluvium scorched her lungs. Abysmal agony, relief only coming with the bittersweet embrace of death. The vessel for her soul, diminished to nothing more than an inanimate carcass: calories to pad the fat of the giant’s thighs.

Intense fear of a harrowing death supplied the impetus to push her onward. She dove down, forcing her hands and arms into the pyloric sphincter. With a deep breath, she plunged her head and torso inside, squirming to force herself through the tight muscular opening. She managed to squeeze down into the duodenum with a repulsive squelch, flopping into the folds of the fleshy tube with revulsion. She didn’t allow herself to contemplate the abysmal fate that awaited her, or think about the consequences of her terrible, but unavoidable, choice. She crawled forward instead, sliding down a trail of bile through the C-shaped bend into the unknown darkness beyond.

Hardon was sitting on his throne, with his royal advisor standing on one side and his personal guard on the other, when he felt Candy slip into his intestines. He let out a low moan of pleasure as he doubled over and rubbed his abdomen, smiling maniacally to himself. The squirms of her tiny limbs as she clambered through his intestines were like an internal massage in an erogenous zone. The experience was intense enough to arouse him. “Mmmm... Goodness, Candy, that feels sublime... ohhhhhhh...” he moaned near his abdomen, where he knew Candy would be able to hear him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that, Your Majesty. Are you feeling ill?” Leon inquired. He couldn’t help but notice the king mumbling incoherently and moaning, bent over at the waist as he massaged his middle.

“Shut up, Leon. I’m not talking to you,” King Richard growled. He caressed his paunch and whispered something else, a hideous grin marring his face.

Leon gulped. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He lapsed into silence with growing concern as he watched the odd display, the king murmuring to his midsection like a senile old man.

“I need to rest,” the king announced, springing out of his chair with a lively enthusiasm that belied his statement. “I will retire to my quarters. Have the kitchen send me something sweet to snack on.” He left, Ajax following close behind. He wanted to release his lust and rub one out in privacy.

Meanwhile, inside him, Candy navigated the long, winding tunnel of his small intestines. Her progress was sluggish as she waded through the soggy chyme, saturated by gastric fluid and gelatinous mucus. The tapestry of villi coating the inner folds of flesh rippled in a steady current, gradually dragging the mushy contents forward along with her small form. While the fumes weren’t as potent as in the stomach, the smell was still foul, enough to make her retch.

Nevertheless, despite her horror and abhorrence, she climbed through the hellish maze with a steely determination to survive at all costs. She felt she’d be letting Millie down, her former protector, if she gave up and died in this living sewer pipe. She was terrified. Various sounds echoed through the Stygian corridor in a grotesque and disturbing ambience: the unrelenting pounding of the giant’s heart, gurgles and squelches and deep growls, primordial moans from the unfathomable depths beyond. She felt vulnerable, diminished, and insignificant, lost and alone in what felt like meaty underground catacombs.

“Mmm, Candy, keep wriggling around like that. It feels so good,” Hardon’s voice blared all around her. Deeper down in his innards, she could mostly only hear the rich bass tones reverberating through the empty cavities. She tried her best to ignore the giant as he teased her and prodded at his gut, compressing the tunnels around her with an uncomfortable squish, like the sound of a wet sponge being wrung out. She wanted to scream when the fleshy folds squeezed around her; she thrashed to escape their tight embrace, sliding out and scrabbling ahead. The king moaned in a deafening rumble that shook her to her marrow, both physically and psychologically.

She kept moving, even as the banging in her ears intensified with his heightened heartbeat and elevated breathing. She hated to think what he was doing, but the noticeable swishing of the blood through the blood vessels embedded in his organs, his insufferable erotic moans, his rising internal body temperature, and his rocking, jerking motions were impossible to misinterpret. The lecherous, sadistic giant was pleasuring himself to her suffering, reveling in every small squirm that he could feel inside. Candy was mortified, yet unsurprised. She tried not to let his gross perversions phase her and kept going.

She struggled to maintain her footing as she crawled through the muck, cradled by the undulating intestinal lining. Every subtle movement from the giant’s larger body made her hands slide and swish over the slick, uneven wrinkles, knocking her down in a humiliating sprawl. The tubes twisted and winded in random directions, sometimes dumping her blindly down a chute or reversing course. The unpredictable directions made her dizzy. Occasionally the passageway would slope upward, impossible to climb with how slick and pliable the creases were. Candy could only wait as the muscular contractions slowly shuttled her along, the villi tickling her skin in a way that made her shiver with disgust.

The conduit of gurgling meat was endless. Candy felt like she had been creeping through miles of sludge. Globs of rancid juices dripped on her head and down her back as she strained to continue forward. An escalating panic grew in her chest, threatening to explode in a tempestuous burst. She recalled Hardon’s cryptic conversation before he swallowed her with fresh understanding, about how it would take days for food to make the full journey through his viscera. He claimed the anti-digestion potion only lasted two days, while the trip through his body could take as long as three. Her limbs weakened at the thought. She couldn’t last that long, within this confined hell. She might not survive; she might exert all this effort, only to die regardless.

Her world turned sideways, and she rolled along the inner wall of the tube and fell into one of the creases with a nasty plop. The giant’s heartbeat declined, and his breathing deepened, the steady swell and ebb of his body slowing. He was falling asleep. Candy wondered what time it was, whether it was night or if he was just taking a nap after blowing his load. She couldn’t tell. Deep in his bowels, the flow of time was only measured by the steady rippling of the intestines sluggishly shuffling the chyme along a fixed course. She felt as if she had spent an eternity down here, as if she had always been here, wandering in this subterranean labyrinth. Her life on the outside felt like a false dream, a delusional fantasy, a bitter lie.

Even so, she chased that dream with desperation. She wanted to live. She wanted to be free. In a painful yearning that she had long since buried in sorrows, she even thought about the handsome giant knight she had believed herself to be fated to. That was the worst lie of all. She finally succumbed to her misery and fatigue and collapsed, allowing the pulsing walls to carry her along. She couldn’t propel herself any longer. She cried until she lost consciousness.

A drop of fluid from the wriggling ceiling splattered her face and stung her eyes, waking her up. She didn’t know how long she had been asleep, but nothing had changed. It was almost as if she had made no progress at all, in the infinite loops of intestines. She didn’t have the strength to pull herself up. She stared numbly at the dripping wrinkles, squiggling with those innumerable sausage-like protrusions. She was thirsty, but of course there was no unpolluted water in sight. She’d probably be hungry too, if her repulsive surroundings didn’t nauseate her so much. She understood now why the king had given her a final breakfast. He knew the torture he was going to put her through, and desired to make her last as long as possible, even if ultimately she didn’t make it out in one piece.

As if her thoughts had summoned the vile monster, his sonorous voice blasted through his organs. “Candy? Are you still alive in there?” Candy watched helplessly as the tube around her flattened from the pressure of his hand over his gut, while he searched for her. She squeaked when he found her, squashing her in the mass of flesh. She writhed to get free, eliciting a hearty, booming laugh from the giant.

“Ah, there you are!” his voice bellowed. “You’d better keep moving! You might not finish the course alive at this rate!” Though Candy couldn’t see his face, she could imagine the gross leer on his visage, showing off his big teeth. She shuddered, and he moaned with satisfaction from the sensation.

“Oh, breakfast time!” the king announced with glee. Candy’s heart sank. She’d been inside him for an entire day. Her time was running out. She felt weak and defeated, drained by the intolerable heat, the odors, the exertion, the grotesque scenery—all of it. She couldn’t bring herself to move a single muscle.

“Chester! I’m sure you’ve reclaimed my darling Millie by now?” As she laid on her back, squelching through the grooves along with the transformed remains of yesterday’s breakfast, she relinquished all her remaining hope. She couldn’t hear Chester’s response, but she knew there was no way that Millie could escape Chester’s nose.

There was a long pause. The king’s pulse quickened. “YOU DIDN’T FIND HER?!” he exploded in a deafening roar. Candy was thrown about by the giant’s violent upheaval, slapping into the wall. “THAT’S NO EXCUSE! GET YOUR ASS OUT THERE AND BRING HER TO ME!!!” Candy’s ears rang from the volume, as if cannons had been fired right next to her head.

Even so, she was elated at the fantastic news. Her sacrifice hadn’t been in vain! Millie had eluded capture! Revitalized, she sprang into action, flipping over to resume her journey. Candy realized she couldn’t let the king win. She couldn’t give up, even when her situation was hopeless. The gigantic body around her shifted and made obnoxious noises, but she pressed on. She could hear the king muttering savage invectives like the drone of thunder, bringing her spiteful satisfaction.

Her positive mood didn’t last, but her resolve did. She utilized all her remaining willpower to haul one arm in front of the other, clambering over the furrows and through the contorting tangle of twists and bends. The agonizing minutes conglomerated into hours. The going became more difficult as the slurry thickened, and the acidic bile made everything even slimier. Her palms and knees kept slipping, especially as fatigue gnawed at her sore muscles.

Her senses and thoughts dulled. She couldn’t focus on her surroundings, so much so that she ended up careening down a dark chasm and landing in a shallow cleft made by two ridges of meat. She couldn’t get up, couldn’t even keep her eyes open, so she rested limply in the channel, nudged along by the steady flow. She flickered in and out of awareness, only brought back by the substantial bass of the king’s voice, or when her face was submerged in liquid.

She became dimly aware of being squeezed through a valve of some sort, and the passage widening around her. The little sausage-shaped protrusions vanished, and the irregular folds gave way to larger ridges in a more standard pattern. Candy felt herself gradually rising, but was too incoherent and unresponsive to do anything. She wasn’t sure if the tunnel was becoming darker or if her eyes weren’t working as well, but she was straining to see any details. The glow from her skin was fading. The flesh encompassing her and pushing her upwards felt hotter, unbearably so. Her skin began to sting in an unpleasant manner, and the malodorous air thinned, making it harder to breathe. Despite these alarming developments, Candy was unable to snap out of her daze. She fainted again.

Pitch blackness swallowed her mind. She only regained awareness when she was unexpectedly hit by a deluge of icy cold water. She tried to resist, weakly, as powerful giant fingers buffeted her on all sides, washing her off with stinging soap and water. She groaned as she was dried off with a fluffy towel, then dropped onto a soft, dry surface. Her eyes fluttered open.

She experienced a cold shock as she was met with a frigid gaze from a pair of all-too-familiar gigantic pale irises that struck her to her innermost roots. Staring into those eyes was like diving into an Arctic sea, ringed by glaciers and snowfall. She quivered with abject terror as her rational mind grasped where she was.

“Welcome back, my sweet little morsel,” King Richard gloated with an obscene grin.

Chapter 47

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