#slashervore

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Since it’s now spooky month how about some more Bob Velseb vore? Maybe a few dates in for the his newly acquired boyfriend and him, showing off just how much he meat he can handle. Or if you don’t wanna how bout just some mass vore, with oral, pec and pit vore with weight gain and disposal?

I can make both of these the same thing, easy stuff. Obviously, this a follow-up to the old V.elseb asks, but I don't feel like searching for them to link.

Barry had to admit, he didn’t think things would go so...well? When the giant, cannibal serial killer basically told him they were dating, Barry figured it was just a little game and he’d be dinner himself sooner or later. But then he survived their first date...and the next...and the next...and the next. And now, a year later, Barry is starting to wonder if it’s not really a game.

Sure, tons of other guys have died over the course of their dates. Like...a lot, a lot. But not Barry. Bob licks him a lot, yeah, and might stick a hand or his head into that slimy, deadly maw...but he always lets Barry go again with a chuckle. Now, it’s Halloween again. Their one-year anniversary. And Bob wanted to do something special. And it involved the large house party that is happening tonight.

Bob is wearing his usual outfit, a thick red sweater and his devil face. Barry had let Bob do some face paint for him, too, so he’s a skeleton this year. A joke, since Bob likes to mention how he ‘has no meat on his bones’. Barry is only half confident that, if he did bulk up, Bob wouldn’t eat him.

Right now, at least, that drooling grin is much more focused on the house they’ve walked up to. Music blares out from inside, door open and already a few people milling about. Everyone is dressed in costumes of some kind and is in some state of tipsy. Barely anyone is even paying attention to them as they walk up...which really just makes the next part easy.

Bob yanks a guy dressed as a superhero up off the porch stairs by the back of his shirt. Maw opened wide, Bob lowers the guy right in, a few wet slurps and gulps sending him away. He barely even got a yell out before Bob’s jaws clack shut and his belly sloshes with live meat dropping inside. The killer slurps over his lips with a groan and pats his gut. “Mmm...now that’s good eatin’...”

Barry can’t help the slight chuckle that comes out of him. The guy didn’t even bulge Bob’s gut out, and it’s gurgling thickly around him. “How many people do you plan on eating, anyway?”

Bob slurps over his lips and looks down at Barry with wide, hungry eyes. “All of ‘em, darlin’.”

“...what?” Barry knew that Bob is a big eater. But he’s usually careful about where he goes to eat and how many people it is. He’s never seen the big guy go for more than ten meals at a time, and even that is when he’s being indulgent. The party is way more than that. “You can’t be serious.”

“Just watch.” Bob chuckles and pats his gut, the porch stairs creaking under him as he walks up. Three more people are lingering around the porch, and Bob does the same thing to each of them--hefts them off the ground and into his drooling jaws, slurping them away with practiced skill. By the time a pair of twitching cowboy boots are disappearing down his gullet, his groaning guts have begun to bulge out his shirt, peeking out of the bottom ever so slightly. Bob looks to Barry, blasts out a thick belch into the smaller man’s face, and then waddles into the house. Barry can only follow in stunned silence.

Bob’s massacre continues inside. The loud music helps to muffle a lot of what happens. Sure, people are more likely to notice Bob devouring others. It’s hard not to when he’s snapping his jaws down on people mid conversation, or walking up to clusters or people and just shoveling them down the hatch. But the yelling doesn’t do much, and no one is able to get away from those drooling jaws.

People try to grab onto their friends, and it gets them sucked down right after. Other try to rub, but Bob’s size makes it hard to get away from him, and he always grabs them and pull them into his maw. A few braver or larger guys try fighting him, but getting close enough to do so all but confirms their fate as food.

Before long, the living room of the house is mostly empty. Bob huffs, pushing a pair of kicking legs into his gullet. He doesn’t even swallow, just sends them down with a long push. “Nnf...there...” Bob slurps over his lips and pats his gut. It’s heavy, sticking out before him several feet and nearly on the ground. It’s bulging around the various people inside, limbs and heads and awkward shapes from costumes stretching him out. His sweater has ridden up on him completely, exposing the pale, hairy flash. It’s churning and rumbling wetly, working hard on all of the meat inside. Bob belches deeply, a couple stray bits flying out of his jaws--a plastic gladiator’s helmet, a boot, and a bone that definitely wasn’t a prop, among other things.

“W-Wow...” Barry murmurs, just staring at that massive gut. He’s never seen it this big. He reaches out, pushing on it and finding it taut. He gives it a rub, earning a content huff from Bob. If it wasn’t for the face paint, Barry’s blush would be very obvious. “Okay...you were able to eat a lot, I’ll give you that.” The gut gurgles thickly against Barry’s hands, as if agreeing. “But you’ve got to be full now, right?”

“Hm...” Bob taps his chin, looking down at Barry over the curve of his gut. “...I s’pose I could give my gut a break.”

“Alright. Maybe we should go before anyone else shows up then, just so--” Barry stops when he watches Bob pull his sweater off and casually toss it onto the couch he just cleared of its occupants. “...what are you doing?”

“I said I’d give my gut a break, darlin’.” Bob stretches his arms out, definitely showing off a bit--his gut has always been round and soft, and while his arms and chest had a bit of that softness as well, he had some well built muscle mass. “Didn’t say I was done.”

“But...” Barry trails off as Bob goes waddling off, towards the kitchen. A few more people are inside, making food or getting some that’s been left out. Barry stands in the large doorway, watching as Bob hoists up a couple of guys.

The two men find themselves getting shoved face first into thick, furry pits. They start to kick immediately, but Bob gives their heads a good shove, and they slip right in. Then they’re sinking deeper, disappearing into his body. It wasn’t just his jaws that he can eat with, after all, and while he had his preference...Bob was hardly far from full. In no time at all, a couple pairs of twitching feet disappear behind black pit fur, and Bob’s arms are bulging out slightly more than usual.

He moves right on, grabbing a guy rummaging through the fridge. He’s dragged up and over the curve of that bulging, stuffed gut. He gets out a surprised yell before his head is crammed between Bob’s pecs, and just like before, the man is simply sinking into the muscles with little resistance. A few tight flexes, and the man is gone, leaving Bob’s chest slightly more bulky than it had been.

The few remaining people in the room are put away just the same. Bob makes eye contact with Barry, arms folded behind his head, a blindly grasping arm and a twitching leg disappearing into each of his pits. “Think I can’t handle my meat anymore?”

Barry shakes his head quickly.

Bob chuckles and heads out back. The backyard has a lot more guys around, sitting by a fire or drinking on the patio. Just like the living room, the eating continues with no issue. Except it goes much faster, with three spaces to stuff with squirming meat instead of one. Bob’s arms and pecs continue to bulge out with each guy he sends in. They all kick and squirm, but the second they get pushed between his pecs or into the fur of his pit, it’s just a matter of time until they’ve been slurped out of sight.

Barry only stopped watching so he could help. He went back into the house, going through each room and telling any stragglers to head to the backyard. “There’s a fight!” “I think I saw your boyfriend kissing someone.” “Someone’s calling for you.” Whatever he could think of to get them to head out, he said it. By the time he’s double checked the house and returned to the backyard, Bob is already coming back inside.

The killer looks down at Barry, who walks directly into his gut. Barry had to back up just to properly see Bob’s face. His gut is still massive, but digestion is already taking its toll, the mass inside getting more compact and growing smaller. His pecs and arms are also massive now, bulging and flexing as they try to contain all the squirming meat. Barry can see an arm or even a head surface from between Bob’s pecs or his pit hair, but a single flex sucks them right back into place. If it wasn’t for the massive double doors, Bob wouldn’t even be able to fit inside.

Barry can’t even say anything. He just stares, and it makes Bob chuckle. The smaller man is gently ushered along, back to the living room, and Bob settles onto the couch. It breaks almost immediately under him, but he just settles in and pats his gut. “Happy anniversary, darlin’.”

“You...did this for the anniversary?” Barry asks. He slowly raises his hands to start rubbing along Bob’s gut, then up to his pecs and along his arms.

“What can I say? I wanted to show off a bit.” Bob pats the top of his gut with both heads. He tips his head back and lets out a deep, rumbling belch into the air. Barry swears it makes the entire house shudder. More bits of costume bounce around, and at least a few bones, too. “Figures I’d put on a show for ya.”

All these people are digesting for Barry, then. Some...god, fifty or so partygoers who were just trying to have a good night are now just food. Packed into Bob’s hellish guts, or stuffed into his tight, musky muscles, doomed to die, just so Bob could ‘show off’ for Barry. The smaller man pushes his hands a bit deeper into Bob’s gut, finding more resistance, and even getting another wet belch out of the killer. “...thanks, Bob. This was...wow.”

Bob chuckles and settles back. “Glad ya enjoyed it. Happy anniversary, lambchop. Now then...” WIth a mighty yawn, Bob closes his eyes. “I’m gonna sleep this off. You have fun down there.”

Before long, the sound of heavy snoring is joining the thick rumbles of Bob’s gut and the crunches and snaps coming from his muscles. And Barry enjoys it all, rubbing over every inch of the man’s body, feeling it work and process all of that meat. Up until he fell asleep against that rapidly softening gut.

Come morning, Bob was up first, yawning and blinking sleepily. He can feel his little lambchop sleeping against him, a rather familiar feeling at this point. Bob would have stayed like that if not for the wet rumbling in his bowels demanding attention. So, with a bit of effort, Bob grunts and rises to his feet.

Bob’s stomach wobbles as it drops in front of him. It’s always been heavy and round, but it’s gotten at least twice as large, hanging out at least a foot before him. He notices that his thighs and ass have had a similar shift, given how tight his pants are on him. But he also has a lot more strength to pair with that. His arms are bulky now, all solid muscle. His pecs are about the same, large and strong, resting slightly on top of his gut.

Bob smirks and scratches his gut gently, getting a wet groan in response. “Bet lambchop will love this...” He looks over at the man in question, seeing Barry still sleeping on the ruined couch. Bob grabs his sweater and pulls it down over his head. It only half covers his gut, and his arms and chest are straining the fabric. He huffs and lifts up Barry next, simply holding the now much smaller man against his gut with one arm. The other arm helps get his pants down enough to let his ass hang out. Bob squats slightly and begins to push.

There’s a bassy fart at first, one that rumbles out for a good while. The only reason it stops is because of the solid mass that starts to stretch him out. Thick, dense logs of shit are all but overflowing Bob’s bowels, and they’re sliding out with a bit of urgency. A heavy thump sounds out when the first log hits the couch, and it’s quickly coiling up. The mass only breaks from its own weight, letting more dung heap up regardless.

Plenty of solids have gotten out of Bob’s body. Bones are the easiest to see, specks of white that break up the dark brown and awkward shapes that stick out every so often. Entire skeletons are likely baked down into every log, given the sheer amount of people making up the mess. But along with that is all of the costumes parts. Masks, plastic armor, cheap suits and accessories--they also pepper the logs of shit, all of them worn down or slightly ruined by the acid bath or being compacted.

Despite all of the awkward shapes, the thickness of the logs, and the sheer mass of shit, Bob is having little issue. Other than the occasional grunt or grumble, his dump continues with little interruption. And the mass of shit behind him keeps building up. The couch is smothered fast, the pile rising hire, some hundreds of pounds of shit heaping in the room. Bob has to move forward every so often, just to give himself more space to work with. By the time he feels the last of the crap slop out of him, he’s moved halfway across the room.

Bob lets out a deep sigh and stands up again. He yanks on a curtain to wipe himself clean and pulls his pants back up with a bit of effort. Behind him, the living room is filled with a pile of crap that would put manure farms to shame. It’s tall enough to reach the ceiling at its peak, smothering most of the back wall and sloping down. Furniture has been knocked over or smothered under the thick logs. The smell is almost overwhelming, and it’ll likely never come out of the house. And of course, countless amounts of bones and costume parts stick out all over. In one night, an entire Halloween house party was reduced to crap, and all with no effort.

Bob doesn’t even look back at the pile he made. He walks off, squeezing through the front door, all while Barry sleeps against him. Bob can’t help but grin looking down at him. Nothing cuter than seeing the little guy sleeping against his deadly guts. Must’ve been up for hours, Bob figures. He’ll probably just return to bed once he’s back home, let Barry sleep in.

By the time anyone notices the smell and investigates, the killer will be gone, likely back home to spend the day with his boyfriend. For everyone in town, it’ll end up being a Halloween that’ll never be forgotten. For Bob, it’ll just be the anniversary he has to one-up next year. His cute little boyfriend deserves it, after all.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Can we get some more bob velseb vore? Perhaps a continuation of the prompt you did for him before?

Yeah, definitely! I presume this one is asking about this story, so that's what I'm working with.

Barry still couldn't quite believe that this was actually happening. He'd been quiet the whole way there, letting the deranged cannibal simply drag him along. Now they're sat down at a restaurant for a dinner he'd reserved with his boyfriend. Except...his boyfriend is just some sludge pumping through the killer's bowels, and instead, he can only watch as Bob greedily tears into his third steak.

""Mmm..." Bob gulps the last bite down and licks his lips. "Now, this place knows how to make a steak. Haven't had one that good in a while." He chuckles to himself and pats his stomach a few times, which lets out a noisy groan against his hand. Barry can't help but stare at it.

"But..." Bob slowly rubs along it, his near-perpetual grin widening just slightly. "...I'm still starving over here. Guess those treats at the haunted house weren't enough, even with the steak." Barry finally looks up from the killer's stomach to meet his eyes, seeing the light of a hungry predator gleaming from them. "Wouldn't want our first date to end on a hungry stomach, would we?"

"F-First?" B.arry asks hesitantly. Is he implying more? Why the hell would he go on more dates with this guy?! He should be calling the cops! Why hasn't he?! Bob has gone unnoticed so far since everything just thinks its a costume, but surely the police will listen and--

"Of course first!" Bob exclaims with a laugh. "I'm your boyfriend now, you think you can get away with taking me on just one date? You didn't treat the other one like that, did you?" He rubs over his gut slowly and tilts his head. He stops when it lets out a noisy groan. "Speaking of...I'm still starving."

Barry shrinks back in his seat slightly as he watches Bob summon the waiter over with a gesture. With a slurp of his lips, the cannibal yanks the man down, drooling maw opening impossibly wide to take him. in. Actually watching Bob eat a man whole was...quite the experience for Barry. He already knew the killer could do it, but that's different from seeing it happen. Bob's jaws stretched so easily over the thrashing waiter, each gulp sucking him down the hatch as easily as it had those bites of steak. In no time, kicking legs are disappearing with a wet slurp, and Bob is licking his lips again as his belly bloats outward with its latest snack.

Bob lets out a thick belch and pats his gut a few times. It's pressed tightly against the table now, gurgling up a storm. Barry finds himself staring at it again. "I don't mind if ya wanna touch it," Bob says with a lax smile. "Go ahead. I don't bite."

Touch it..? Why the hell would he want to touch it?! This is disgusting! It's wrong! It's...It's...really soft. That's the first thing Barry thinks when he does put his hand against Bob's stomach, feeling it squish with all the fat already on it. It's warm, too, especially thanks to the digestive process going on inside. Barry can barely feel the waiter inside through all the heft...he can barely hear the man, too.

"How about...we get some food to go and we finish this up at my place?" Bob offers with a big grin. "And you can spend tonight gettin' real personal with the ol' tank here." He pats the side of his stomach a few times and chuckles darkly. For some reason...Barry likes the idea.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Got an ask from @1am13zach that I accidentally answered privately and lost access to! So I'm going to use this as a way to answer it because I liked it. Ask was wanting Bob V.elseb content with disposal!

B.ob chuckles softly as he waddles down the street, his gut sloshing back and forth. He ran into some drunk college students egging someone's house--good fun for the holiday when you're too old to get free candy. Well, B.ob doesn't have that issue. He pats his stomach a few times and lets out a crass belch. He can feel some of those college guys shifting around in his gut, stretching out his sweater enough that a sliver of his belly is poking out. He really can't get enough of his kind of food. He gets to frighten people off and indulge in his greedy desires all at once. Another belch rumbles out of B.ob as his guts churn wetly. Someone goes limp inside and he practically purrs at the sensation of knowing he's melting that man alive. They're all too drunk to fight back properly, which is what made them such easy meals to begin with. The best their struggles do now is make his belly slosh around back and forth, which he's doing plenty of just by walking along. They definitely won't be his last meals of the night but they're some of his favorites right now. And they're going right through him, too. He can feel the other two slowing down like their friend. One goes limp...then the other...B.ob shudders and his grin widens. He presses down on his gut and feels his hand sink right in. Nothing but slop now, chugging further down. They'll add a bit of heft to his gut, maybe his ass, but he can't take all of that. That's why, when he feels his bowels groan, he takes a detour into a back alley, disappearing into the darkness of it. The sounds of wet splats and thuds ring out, as well as some deep groans of pleasure. When B.ob walks back out, he's tugging his pants up again, his stomach much smaller. A bit of a stink lingers on him, but he doesn't care. He left most of it back in that dumpster, as well as the three drunken college boys, now little more than a heaping pile of manure. There'd be plenty more of those tonight, though. B.ob is far from full.

B.ob was a bit surprised to have his arm grabbed and suddenly found himself being pulled along by a group of guys. He was so taken aback by it that he didn't just immediately eat them. But that was for the best as he finds himself being taken to a large costume party that the guys were walking to, mistaking B.ob for a friend of theirs. The killer grins wide seeing the place that's simply teeming with food for the taking. His stomach lets out a deep growl when he gets inside and sees all the costumed men wandering around. His 'friends' laugh and encourage him to go get a bite to eat, which B.ob is more than happy to do. He slinks off, pushing carelessly through the crowd as he looks for some good places to eat. Ironically, he starts with the bathroom, where he's able to get alone with a guy who was trying to walk out. Wet gulps and slurps are muffled by music and chatter, and when B.ob walks back out with a squirming, sloshing gut, no one even bats an eye. They just assume it's part of a costume. So B.ob continues to pick off partygoers wherever he can. He gets wrapped up in some drunken Seven Minutes in Heaven and gets to devour three guys in the darkness of a closet before he's told it's someone else's turn. By the time anyone wonders where all his partners went, he's waddled off to get more. A couple of the bedrooms were getting a bit steamy, but that doesn't stop B.ob from barging in and slurping the men right out of their beds. One guy even asks if B.ob had seen his boyfriend--some fellow in a silly bird costume. The cannibal recalls slurping him down in the bedrooms and, ever helpful, devours the boyfriend as well. He sucks on his fingers and lets out a crass belch after. By now, his stomach isn't being contained by his sweater, left to simply hang out heavily as his various meals fight for space or freedom. B.ob steals a couple of guys going into the basement to get more beers, helpfully coming back out carrying two kegs under his arms like nothing, and then retires to a couch to relax and let all that meat process. Through the night, guys kept stopping by to rub or prod at his gut, marveling at his 'amazing costume'. They'd get some nasty belches in their faces and deep chuckles but B.ob was content to let his meals process a bit...he ends up fast asleep though and the party moves on without him, no one paying enough attention to his stomach to notice is get rounder and shrink down. Come morning, he's prodded awake by one of the partygoers and asked if he'll help clean. B.ob rises from his seat and drops his pants. With a grunt, thick shit slides out of his fattened ass, piling up on the couch behind him. He buries it under the mass, bones and parts of costumes sticking out of the muck. The partygoer is left stunned by the display, not saying anything as he watches the cannibal just unload on the couch. As soon as B.ob is done, the man's hoisted up and devoured, and the killer waddles out of the house with a final belch.

"Quit'cher complain'," B.ob huffs as he pokes the man in front of him in the chest. He'd gotten into the man's house after devouring the guy who answered the door. He's only just learned that was this man's youngest son and he'd had two more than B.ob happily devoured before turning his eyes on the last one. The man hadn't taken too kindly to a strange breaking into his home and devouring all of his kids, but B.ob wasn't the least bit sympathetic as he forced the man to sit there and rub over his churning stomach. It's done its job well, smelting the three men down into nothing but sludge with all the rubs, and now they're just sinking deeper. B.ob grins as he feels his bowels groan with a building weight. "Did you know that human gas is caused by swallowing air during eating?" he asks, leaning in a bit closer to the man, who just looks confused. B.ob leans over a bit and grunts as he farts, stinking up the living room in an instant. "Aaah...your boys were full of it, after all." The man covers his nose as B.ob rises, knocking him back with his stomach. The killer goes ot he center of the room and drops his pants, squatting down. He stares at the man with a big grin as he takes his dump, soft shit hitting the ground under him and beginning to pile up. The man is frozen, eyes wide in disgust and grief, knowing exactly what that awful pile used to be. B.ob chuckles and grunts, closing one eye as he forces out a skull. After a couple minutes, he's pinched off the last log and stands up again, yanking his pants up. "There, ya got yer boys back, just like I promised. Have a happy H.alloween." With a wave, B.ob lumbers off. Eating the man as on his mind...but he thought this was a far more entertaining use of his time. He's sure he'll get to enjoy him next year anyway. B.ob isn't one to let meat get away form him.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Jason

Yeah. But seriously, I’m not sure if you meant to send this or not, but I’m gonna write for my favorite J.ason! I feel like overstimulating him today.

J.ason lets out a low groan as he feels small hands moving along his stomach. Well…small to him, at least. He’s a towering beast of a man so average-sized guys like the one tending to his stomach right now are pretty small. He’s not usually one to play with food—his momma always told him not to—but…does it count if the food is playing with him? He’s found the teens in his forest, as he always does, doing things they shouldn’t, as they always do. And J.ason took them down, one after another, sending them down to fill the void of his stomach with live, squirming meat. He had missed on though—they’d been away when J.ason attacked and came by just after he finished slurping down the last of them. He’d planned to snap this one up, too, but…instead of the usual reactions—screaming, crying, cursing, running, or all of the above—this one came right up to him and just…started rubbing his gut. Even with the man’s friends screaming for help or mercy in J.ason guts, boiling acids and strong muscles steadily breaking their bodies down in a horrible and agonizing fashion, this human was showing no hint of fear. More…fascination. And J.ason has never felt belly rubs, especially while so full, and as it turns out, they appease him like they would be a big dog. Well…J.ason is more comparable to a bear in terms of size, strength, and deadliness, but it was working on the same. The killer is one his back, groaning out as small hands rub and push along his steadily softening stomach. A roaring belch rumbles out of him after a good shove, shaking the trees around them down to their very roots. And all he gets in response is a few gentle pats to his gut, making it slosh back and forth. J.ason is going to eat this one for sure. Just…after a few more rubs. Then he’ll do it for sure.

J.ason knew that the people who intrude in his forest could be...horny. But he didn't think it'd get like this. He'd stalked after a group staying in an old house, finding the door unlocked as he walked inside. The smell of alcohol and pot was strong, so he figured that there wouldn't be much of a struggle here, but the group of guys he found passing a bong around in the living room had basically warmed him. They pulled the lumbering man over and got him down on the couch, much to J.ason's surprise. He lost his machete at some point as he felt hands moving along his body--rubbing his stomach, feeling his arms, squeezing his pecs. The men seemed absolutely enamored with how massive J.ason is, their inebriation and sudden horniness for the massive man making it so they hardly considered how strange what was going on actually is. J.ason found all of the physical attention far too much to resist, not used to the feeling at all. One of the guys noticed how much J.ason was enjoying it because the killer's pants came undone soon, letting his throbbing member poke out for everyone to marvel at. Definitely the biggest they'd ever seen. They even start to elicit guttural moans from J.ason when they take turns feeling the monster over. J.ason had never felt anything like it...and he was enjoying it a lot. Being so new to it all made him incredibly sensitive to it all and he was pretty quickly lost in the pleasure of new sensations. But his body was still made to eat--to kill--and it doesn't take long before one of the high college guys manages to get his finger stuck in J.ason's cock...and then his hand...and then he's up to his shoulder. Before long, the other guys are watching their friend being slurped up by that massive member, the man-turned-meal getting some pathetic wiggles of confusion out before he's slurped up fully and J.ason's nuts are stretched over his form. Instead of being shocked, afraid, or disgusted, the remaining guys have found the whole thing incredibly amusing, and it's not long before another one has tried shoving his hand inside to find the killer's cock slurping him down like a starving snake. J.ason isn't even doing it on purpose this time, left moaning and panting on the couch as his neglected cock gets its first real taste of meat and practically goes on a feeding frenzy, slurping down each man with the same ease and skill the killer normally manages on his own. It doesn't take long before the last of the guys is slurped down, J.ason's sack now resting on the floor, stretched tightly around them and already beginning to churn noisily. Cum drips down his length, forming a puddle on the ground as the man's hand wraps around his meat to begin jerking himself off. His balls churn and flex, effortlessly breaking down his impromptu meals down into a thick cream one after another, each powerful flex breaking another down. It's not long before J.ason throws his head back with a roar, his cock firing off like a geyser as thick ropes of cum go splattering around the living room, striking nearly every surface and painting it a thick, musky white. Clothes and bones stick to whatever surface the strike, some ending up even plastered above on the ceiling with how much J.ason is letting loose. By the time he's done, he's limp on the couch, breathing deeply and staring up with hazy eyes. The living room has been trashed, most things knocked over or thrown around and all of it coated in a few hundred gallons of cum. J.ason wouldn't leave that cabin until hours later...but even right now, lost in the afterglow, he knows why these teens enjoy this so much suddenly. And he also knows he has to find more to do it again.

Jocks have always been some of J.ason's favorite meat. Sure, overall he'd prefer it if they just stayed away, but so long as the food keeps coming to him he may as well enjoy it. The more muscular ones he gets always feels good to add to him a certain way. That's why his rough hands have the faces of a couple college athletes pressed into his pits, the killer letting out a soft growl as he gets their faces pushing in. The men don't resist him, too overwhelmed by the earth stench of the killer, so he has an easy time steadily pumping them into his body. he holds his arms up, flexing his arms over and over as he lets his body suck the two men in. Large meals like this always feel good filling out his muscles, his already strong biceps bulging out further as a couple of jocks are packed into them. He packs them away with ease and takes a few moments to simply relish in the sensation of having such strong meat packed away in his body. Then he flexes both of his arms, wet crunches and snaps coming from them as the two jocks are pulverized into a thick slurry in an instant. His arms pump up with new muscle, tingling as they become bulkier. Some of that excess protein adds to his chest as well and makes his gut swell a bit. Even his legs get thicker and after just a minute or so, a few hundred pounds of jock meat has been converted into J.ason's muscle mass. The way it makes his body tingle with sensitivity makes him groan in pleasure. He stinks a bit more with musk but hardly notices. He has more jocks to enjoy and he's not nearly done. The rest of the team wouldn't fair any better against J.ason. The killer was simply stronger than each of them, only getting stronger with each jock he fed into his pecs and pits to add to his mass. Not to mention, with each jock crushed down into bulk, J.ason worked up more of a sweat, getting muskier and slowly driving the men into a haze as they're forced to take it in with him around. After about fifteen minutes, a pair of twitching feet sink into his pecs as he takes in the team's coach. His arms are flexing down over the last few jocks he fed to his pits, and with a couple strong flexes, the coach is broken down just as easily as his team. J.ason's body continues to swell out with muscular mass, making the already large killer even more formidable. He's covered in thick muscles that exude power, even his musclegut being rather solid now. He's gotten even taller, making him a towering behemoth of a man--compared to how he was already, at least. Not to mention, he stinks like a beast, his body working up on hell of a sweat from all of that. His entire body is tingling and it's making him moan out as he feels over his new muscle carefully. He'll never get tired of jock meat.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Hi, first things first I love your blog. The way that you have so much creativity and are able to handle the volume of asks is incredible.

I was wondering if you could do a couple of prompts about a serial killer, or eater, gobbling up his poor victims? Or a turn of Fortune where the final girl (boy in this case) manages to gobble up the villain.

Either way, thank you for your time. ❤️

Thank you so much! I have plenty of ideas from the stuff I think about, which is why it's probably easy to notice most of my content has pivoted towards rule34-style stuff. That's on my brain a lot more often. Anyway, it's also why I like sticking to the ask format for the most part, since it's really helpful when people have more specific ideas for me to center in on. Even as general as "Character with this type of vore" can be useful in centering ideas for me.

Also, I do love this idea, and I've kinda done it before with G.hostface. But I definitely wouldn't mind letting another killer get his chance to eat! So you'll be getting a story instead of prompts. Hope that's no trouble.

M.ichael's current desires have been...strange. The need to draw blood, the need to kill--he's quite familiar with that and settling it. But tonight, the urges were something deeper, different. The low, beastly rumble that came from his stomach was a reminder of exactly what he needed right now. And he had an entire town to enact it on at his discretion.

His first victim...prey was a pizza guy, stuck working at night. He'd only just gotten out of the car with the pizza when M.ichael was on him. He pins his prey to the car, his stomach rumbling harshly against the delivery guy's back. M.ichael didn't pay any mind to his yelling. He simply opens his maw wide, the mask stretching and opening with it, and snaps them down over the man's head. He gulps and slurps wetly, his immense strength keeping his prey still. Soon enough, M.ichael is tipping his head back and shoveling down a pair of kicking legs. His stomach bloats out, the coveralls he wears stretching to accommodate the new heft. Even with an entire person sliding down into his guts, they let out a low rumble, hardly satisfied with one meal.

M.ichael presses a hand down on his stomach and lets out a low belch. A hat flies out of his maw, landing on the seat of the car. The pizza guy is feisty, but M.ichael's stomach is strong, and it's already working on him. Not enough. He turns and heads to the house the car was parked outside of. A few hard bangs on the door, and it opened, a scruffy man on the other side. M.ichael grapples with him, taking the man by surprise and sending them both to the ground with a thud. Between his strength and his full stomach pressing into the man, he can't fight back, and M.ichael starts scarfing down his second prey head first.

The third came before he was done, someone else who lived in the house investigating the commotion just to find M.ichael laying on his stomach, the calves of his second prey sticking out of his maw. M.ichael wasn't sure of the relation, but it hardly mattered. This was just his third prey now. He tried to run, going deeper into the house. M.ichael follows, pushing the last of his second prey into his maw and sending him down. The chase goes to the backyard, the third prey trying to scale the fence while calling for help. M.ichael gets him by the ankles and shoves his feet down the hatch. The third prey's screams get louder, and he holds on for just a bit by gripping the fence. But his grip gave out eventually, and M.ichael slurped down his head and arms in an instant, sealing him away.

With three meals packed tightly in his gut, M.ichael sits down to rest. He rubs a hand slowly over his stomach, tilting his head as he watches it shift around. The bulges stick out like a sore thumb. Anyone who might happen to spot him would be able to tell that three men are packed away in his stomach, all of them fighting for their lives. But those lives are meaningless to M.ichael. They're his prey, and all he needs for them to do now is to die. In the quiet of the night, only the thick gurgles and muffled crunches of a predator's gut could be heard, occasionally drowned out by a low belch.

After about an hour, M.ichael walks out of the house, his stomach sloshing back and forth. It hangs low with the boiling sludge of his prey. With enough time, the harsh flexes of his gut and the potent acids it produced had reduced those prey down into nothing more than chyme. His stomach is only half the size now, and he'd be content to return to his home and let that meat process down into nothing. But there'd be a fourth prey on the way back.

Someone had been watching from across the street, and when M.ichael emerged, they stood in front of him. Even M.ichael could tell there was something strange, tilting his head as he stared down the man. But then his stomach grumbled as he took his dessert. There's no fight from the man as he's lifted up and sent down with hard, steady gulps. M.ichael wasn't accustomed to willing meals, but this one went down smoothly and curled up in his stomach amongst the gore of his earlier prey. He continues on his way back home, his gut still sloshing as he walks. Four prey tonight...maybe he'll have more next time.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

jason voorhees with wg and disposal? idk big strong muscle man becoming heavy with fat, especially jason, sounds so cute. and also disposal because im a weirdo

You’re right, it is cute. And I have a secret to share—I’m a huge weirdo, too.

J.ason gives his gut a squeeze and it molds around his hand like soft clay. He lets out a soft groan and lets go of it, watching it wobble when he does. There's no doubt about it. He's gotten fat. Really, he should have accepted the idea a while ago. He's noticed the way his sparse collection of clothes seem to hug his frame more and more as the days go by. Today was the day his shirt ripped open trying to fit over his empty gut, though.

It was bound to happen with his diet, really. Humans are walking calorie bombs and it seems like there's two more for every one he eats. The RV he recently tore apart groans as he steps off of it. The lingering smell of shit follows after him, a pile made up of a father and his three adult sons filling at least half of the vehicle after J.ason crashed their family camping trip. They'd been the thing to push his body past the limit and into 'definitely fat now'. He can feel the way his stomach wobbles with every step he takes and he wasn't able to get his pants to come up over his ass again.

He's still strong, of course, but all that muscle is being smothered under plush fat. But this summer has been particularly busy for him. These campers weren't even his first meal of the day. No, that was the van of stoners who thought the woods were a safe place to get as high as they want. Their van is still sitting out there somewhere, the back of it weighed down with a monster of a crap. Stoner always seems to go right through him.

There were also those college guys skinny dipping in the lake. No clothes on those meals, at least, but it was a pretty heavy meal with how many there were. He was lucky that the wooden raft they had out there held his weight. He'd bring it in if he cared enough to shovel that mountain of shit he left on it, but frankly, he wasn't too worried about where he left his shits. This was his territory, he could leave them where he wanted. It didn't do anything to stop these people from coming around.

The meal right before the family were some hunters. Tracking them down one by one was a nice change of pace. Though J.ason is happy he didn't have to deal with being shot. They never even saw him coming. Now they're just a few nasty heaps scattered around the forest like plenty of others. And then, of course, there's his latest meal which finally made his clothes stop fitting entirely.

Though, if J.ason is being honest with himself, he's been getting fatter these last several months. He really noticed if after eating that party bus of graduates. Definitely one of his biggest meals to date and, of course, the biggest shit he ever took--at least half an hour to get it all out, if that. It was the first time he really noticed he was getting fatter, though. And while usually he can work it off, he hasn't had much of a break in terms of food since then, and he's gaining faster than losing.

J.ason lets out a grunt and shakes his gut back and forth slowly, squeezing the fat between his fingers a few times. He's just going to have to get used to the new size. Cutting back on scarfing down every man that walks into his home isn't an option, and if they don't stop coming, he's just going to keep eating. Guess the weight isn't so bad, at least...it'll be nice when winter comes around for sure.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Hello👋💜

I hope you are doing well and life been easy on you. I hope you don’t mind, but I wish to request a story. I wish that you could write a story about what you desire.

Sorry for the strange request, but I was curious on what you would like to write if someone ask.

Hm...this is honestly an interesting question if only cause what I wanna actually write for tends to change a lot on the day-to-day based on whatever random idea of fascination has gotten my attention. Sometimes a character or franchise is stuck in my head, sometimes I'm playing with a concept for days on end, it all really depends. So if you guys send me asks like this, I shouldn't have too much trouble coming up with something to write.

Anyhow, there is a new guy I'm obsessed with, so I will write a story for him!

In all honesty, he didn't want to do this. Halloween wasn't really his thing, and haunted houses especially weren't, but his boyfriend had basically dragged him out here despite his protests. He even got convinced to dress up for the occasion, wearing a cheap hockey mask and nothing else. His boyfriend had gone for the zombie look, makeup and all. He'd been convinced due to a promise for a dinner date after, so he'd relented. But now the worst thing has happened: he's lost sight of his boyfriend, and even worse, he's gotten lost himself.

"All this for a stupid reservation dinner...ugh..." Wandering the dark, decorated halls is annoying but...he's starting to notice how eerily quiet it's gotten. No actors jumping out to scare him...no one else wandering around...and, most importantly, not even his boyfriend. Going backwards wasn't doing him much good, and he was about to go look for the exit to wait for him, when he rounded a corner and walked right into something big and soft.

"Unf..!" He stumbles back, hitting the wall behind him. He looks up while rubbing his head to realize he bumped into someone big...and tall. He's wearing a dark red sweater, stretched over a large gut. His face is just as red, with wide eyes and a big, drooling smile, and two horns sticking from his head. "Uh...h-hey...are you one of the workers..? I'm...looking for my boyfriend. We got separated."

"Did you know..." The devil leads in close, his breath stinking of old meat. "...that some cultures used to believe eating the flesh of others was a way to gain their strength?"

The man in the hockey mask blinks. "Uh...what--"

The devil stands up straight again, grabbing his stomach and shaking it back and forth. It sloshes thickly, like it's full of jello. "Was your boyfriend a vampire...or maybe a ghost?"

"O-Oh, uh, he...he was a zombie actually. He spent like an hour doing the makeup for it..."

The devil's eyes shine for just a moment. "Oooooh...hehehe, is that right..?" He gives his stomach a few slow, dull pats. "Yeah...you're not seeing that one again. He stopped moving around half an hour ago."

"Wh-What? What are you talking about? You've seen him?"

"Sure I have, and I'll be seeing him again in the bathroom in an hour or so. I'd send you after but..." The devil reaches over and pinches the man's arm. "...you're all skin and bones. You're hardly what I'd call prime meat. More like...gristle."

A sinking feeling begins to settle in the man's stomach. "Wait, you...you ate..."

The devil thumps his chest and belches wetly, a bone flying out of his jaws and clattering to the floor. "Mmm...sure I did. This place was packed full of meat, but I think it's just about empty now. Just the scraps left." The devil stares right into the man's eyes as he says that, making him shrink back.

"We...We were...supposed to go to dinner...after this..." the man mumbles softly.

The devil's eyes widen and his grin grows. "Dinner..?" He's even starting to drool again. He leans in close, sticking his face right into the man's. "Why didn't you say so? I'm always ready for second. Since your boyfriend's just a part of me now, that makes me your boyfriend, right?" He takes the man's hand and begins walking, easily dragging the smaller male along behind him.

"Wh-What?! It doesn't work like--h-hey, slow down!" The man stumble along as he tries to keep up. "I-I don't even know your name!"

"Don't you watch the news?" The devil looks back at the man as they head for the exit. "...the name's Bob. Bob V.elseb."

The man's stomach sinks further. "That...That can't be right..." The cannibal serial killer..? The one that escapes prison? And now he's...

The two make it outside. Bob rubs over his stomach as it lets out a rumble. He looks back at the man he's holding onto, drool dripping down his face. "Well, point me in the right direction, boyfriend. We don't want to miss dinner. I'm starving."

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Can we get more belly smothering/bullying with disposal teases?

I'll do a G.hostface story for this one, based on your follow-up ask!

It was a glorious moment of victory for the masked killer. He'd picked off a couple of guys so far, just to put everyone on edge...and maybe to thicken out his body a bit as well. When the party started, he had a nice pot belly that was just barely visible through the cloak he wore. He's very thankful for the outfit, honestly, given that it works so well with his growing body. Three men already and he was starting to get chubby. But tonight...tonight's going to be different. It's going to be a feast.

It's five tonight, and unlike the last three, it's all at once--well, one at a time, but not a whole lot of time letting them churn. The first one was taken down in the bathroom--pulled behind the shower curtain and scarfed down. The next was outside with some luring texts, hit over the head, and devoured before he could wake up. The third was trying to get into his car but his keys were somewhere in G.hostface's lower tract--and he would be pretty soon after. The fourth was just done having sex with the fifth, neither of which had even noticed the party cleared out or disappeared down the man's hatch. They...went down together.

There was only one person left. G.hostface’s main ‘prey’, the one surrounding it all. They’d noticed their disappearing friends and are the reason the rest of the party is gone but they’re all on their own now. It doesn’t take long for the masked killer to get them cornered snd pinned under his massive gut. It’s groaning loudly, stuffed taut with five men inside, their cloak just barely covering their stomach but not doing enough to hide the bulges of the live, squirming prey. Not that he’d want to hide them—no, in fact, he’s absolutely relishing in this. It’s a perfect plan come to fruition.

"So, how's it feel?" the masked killer says to the man pinned under his gut. "Feeling your friends dying just in front of you? Knowing that they're melting alive in my guts, destined to fill out my figure as more plushness and...heh, well, also fill out a toilet bowl or five." He isn't expecting an intelligible answer--and in fact, the best he gets is some muffled words against his gut and some pathetic squirming. It does work out a rather meaty belch from G.hostface at the very least.

"Oooh yeah...they're really churning up in there, too. I ate that loser stoner you liked hanging out with so much--he throws a great party, huh? I think he's sloshing around somewhere in my intestines right now and he's gonna be stinking things up pretty soon. Oh, and I made sure to save your boyfriend for last so he's still kicking around in there~ Did you know he had a side piece? Yeah, your best friend, they were doing in while I guzzled them down! Guess I did you a favor, huh? No need to thank me~ You could say...I'm your boyfriend now, Nancy." The killer laughs at his own reference as he feels some new squirms from the pinned treat under his belly.

G.hostface pushes his gut down harder on the man, letting out another heavy belch. His breath reeks of meat and death and he's absolutely relishing in it. He can feel and hear the panic of his still live meals--he's pretty sure there's only three still kicking around in there right now and even that's not going to last long. "I've recorded every second, you know. I have a movie to make and it's going great. I bet the big drop-off at the end will make a good climax, right?" He pats his gut a few times, chuckling darkly. "But don't worry--horror movies where the final girl--er, guy, this time--dies at the end are so dreary! No...I'll make sure the two of us have lots of fun from here on out. We have some sequels to write, you and I. And you still have a contact list to empty out...heh..." His guts rumble loudly, already eager at the prospect of having more meat. This is going to be such a good time.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

I saw your Ghostface belly bullying/smothering post! I was wondering if we could get that sequel that he was teasing us about! With his ‘prey’ very slowly becoming reluctantly into it and to his growing size with even more belly bullying.

Yeah, I’d love to do more with that! Also here's the first part which I forgot to link.

A massive belch roars out of the masked man while his gut bounces and sloshes around. It's been a couple of months since G.hostface had claimed his victory--and ownership--over his chosen prey. That first batch had already left him rather chunky, giving him a soft, round body type after all the additional heft. It's gotten worsen since then. Even when he's not full, he basically waddles around every time he moves after how fat he's gotten. But that's what his new diet will do to a guy.

He currently has three guys boiling into slop in his guts--a father and two of his adult sons, all fighting pathetically for their lives in the depths of the killer's tank. Another thick belch rumbles out of him and he gives his gut a few slow smacks in satisfaction. "Oh fuck yeah, I love a good dad bod...it really makes a meal good. Don't you agree?" He pushes his gut down, the bed creaking under him as he forces his prey deeper into the mattress.

It's been a good few months for the killer. He's turned his prey's phone into a menu and has been picking off every stray contract in it. Friends were the easiest to get in big batches and he's burned through most of those--anyone left is just too out of reach for the moment. He targeted other people in the prey's life, too, like professors and classmates and roommates he'd taken an affinity to. But this time, he's finally taken it a step up--he's gone after his prey's family.

"If I had know your pops was going to be such a good meal, I would have chowed on him first," the killer says, patting his gut some more as it gurgles and bubbles wetly. "Your brothers were pretty good, too. Nice appetizers for the real meal. You don't have more, do you?" There's a muffled reply against his gut and some rather deep rubbing. Guess not but oh well. "Then we'll have to worry about the extended family next, won't we?" The rubs turn into a shove that works out a deep belch from the killer. Hell, it nearly knocks his own mask off!

"Alright, alright, I get it--I won't be so greedy with this one. I know how much you love getting to feel the tank work everyone you love into sludge one by one..." It was honestly great. G.hostface hadn't expected his prey to get so into it but it seems like he's come around on the whole thing. He just loooves being smothered under the fattening gut as it smelts down whatever sap ended up inside. It's made the whole thing a lot more fun~ "Mmf...I think my gut got a little excited, though. Feels like your brothers already croaked. I bet daddy'll be dead soon, too..." His gloves hands roam over his gut, feeling it getting softer yet again. He pushes down, working out a wet squelch as they sink in.

"Guess that makes me daddy now, right?" Another harsh shove on his gut makes him belch out a pair of cracked glasses. "Ugh, fine, too soon. Just knock that off and listen to me claim your family." He's definitely going to need some new robes soon. They've been getting tight on his growing gut and ass since he finished off his prey's professors. He's definitely going to grow out of them after this one...though that idea is kind of exciting, too. It gives him even more weight to throw around for his prey.

He hopes the uncles will be just as fattening...

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

How about prompts for slashers who try voring a victim for the first time, but end up doubled over with stomach ache because they're struggling to digest the prey?

I think there's some merit to this idea just because I think it's really funny.

The first time J.ason had tried to get rid of people on the campgrounds in the...cleaner way he'd discovered, it didn't go well. It was just a couple sleeping in a tent out in the woods, but any intrusion was not allowed. He tore through their tent with ease, dragged the two men out kicking and screaming, and began to work them down. He got one in his gullet, keeping the other's face pressed to his stomach as he gulped and slurped down such a wiggly meal. It was his first time trying it out on a live human--before, the wildlife and the occasional stray dog had been used as test subjects. As he goes to the man's waist, he threw his head back, letting those kicking legs slip right down the hatch. His stomach bloated out with a slosh as he dropped inside and he could even feel the other man shake as that gut filled out with meat. J.ason was just about to hoist the other man up into his open jaws when he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. His prey had gotten some bearing and was starting to squirm harder. He felt another sharp kick and it makes the massive groan instead. It's not long before he's on the ground, clutching his gut as it shifts and wiggles around with lively prey. Nothing J.ason has eaten so far has squirmed with so much fight and his stomach isn't quite used to something so lively. Sickly belches erupt from him as his stomach tries to do something about the heavy discomfort inside. All the while, that prey's lover is being pinned by that gut, unable to move away or fight back. He can only lay there, forced to listen and feel every little thing. He'll be next just as soon as J.ason's gut has gained its control again. And once it's used to this kind of prey, it's unlikely he'll be able to do as much damage as his boyfriend.

He wanted to be the next. He wanted to do it better than the rest. He wanted to do it in a way no one had yet. G.hostface was going to become a name everyone knew again thanks to him. But no one warned him that it was going to fucking hurt. He was splayed out on the couch in a frat house, long after a party, where his first victim--his prey--had been hanging out in an effort to clean up while everyone else was gone or drunk. It'd been a bit difficult even getting the guy pinned down, but once he'd managed that, G.hostface had an easy time horking the frat bro down like the massive slab of beef he was. But fuuuck he just won't stop moving! Every kick and shove is giving him the stomachache of a lifetime. The guy just doesn't know when to quit! He thought that eating his victims would be a new spin on the formula--knives are just so 90's, after all. But it's been an hour and he's not making any progress besides a constantly cramping gut. The killer is just grateful everyone in the house is blackout drunk because he can't stop moaning and whining or just letting out deep, harsh belches. He ends up lying on his gut, rocking back and forth while massaging it with both hands in some effort to soothe it. "Oooogh...just die already..!" He pushes down on a lump made by the man's head, blasting another harsh belch out of him. Maybe this was a bad idea after all, but it's too late to call it quits now. He just...needs to...melt this one...faster!

After getting out of that sanitarium, M.ichael could finally quell that deep hunger that had been growing inside of him for so long. At first, the blade of a knife through some flesh used to do the job, but it feels...different now. Like it's evolved. He stalks silently for something to satiate it, and he manages to find that. He stalks someone into a road stop bathroom--it's some truck driver, he didn't know the guy. It didn't matter, though. It was prey. Michael paused in the doorway of the bathroom. Prey...that word feels right. The hunger inside of him is growling. He places a hand on his stomach and finally walks in. Empty stall...empty stall...empty stall...closed stall. He kicks the door in, catching the man with his pants down. The masked killer didn't wait for him to react, he simply shoved the man back and pinned down his arms. His jaws open wide and he engulfs the trucker's head. Thick, wet gulps ring out as he sucks the guy deeper. The hunger has to be sated. This is the only way to do so. He takes his seat on the toilet as he shovels the trucker's legs down the hatch, his stomach bloating out heavily in his lap as the man is forced inside. There's a wonderful sense of bliss for all of two seconds before M.ichael feels a horrible pain shoot through his torso--the man inside his stomach has come to his senses and is thrashing about and it feels like he swallowed a live beehive. He lets out a low groan, doubling over and pressing his gut further against his legs. His hunger was sated but now he had a new issue--his body was used to only the bland sanitarium food he'd been eating for years. Live prey like this was not something his body had been prepared for, even if it was craving it. He was going to be stuck here for a while trying to get used to this feeling. But at the very least, if more prey walk in, he'll have more practice. He's going to need it, it seems.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Dead by Daylight scenarios?

D.ead by D.aylight! I gotta pay more attention to this game cause I love the setting and plenty of the original slashers made for it (the survivors are a lot more hit or miss). But I know enough to write vore nonsense! That’s why this ask is soooo fucking old.

He was the last one now. There had been four of them when the round started and it didn’t last long until it was three. And then two. And now him. Every time that bell sounded, he knew that another person was gone, and then the creature--the W.raith--was on the move again. He saw it once, a pair of legs sticking out of its mouth as it slurped in the still living survivor. He didn’t want that to happen to him, too. But he still had one generator that hadn’t been touched and he was trying to get to the one that the other guy had been working on before he was captured. Unfortunately, he didn’t even make it to the gen before he heard that bell ringing right in his ear. Right after, a hand grabs his shoulder with a very tight grip that sent a chill through his body. He had no choice but to look behind himself and face the monster head on. W.raith stood tall before the survivor, the usually thin killer’s gut grossly bloated with the bulges of his three previous meals. The organ was groaning and churning wetly, already expertly mulching down all of that live meat. The survivor’s eyes flicker from the stomach to the face, but all he saw was the dark, slimy maw that stretched impossibly wide, showing off sharp fangs in the seconds before it came down over his head. That was a full survivor wipe, leaving the W.raith to happily waddle along as he slurps down the last bits of human meat. He’d enjoy the food coma a meal like this will leave him in between these games, at least.

The survivors had agreed to stick together after what happened to the first one. The saw what the O.ni did to the first guy, the way his blood had been tracked, used to take him down. They thought maybe he’d just get hooked, but then they saw the large beast of a man lift the poor guy up and push him face first into his pecs. It was over in seconds, as if the killer’s body was made for it, and one of the survivors was sucked right in between the man’s chest muscles and out of sight. It only seemed to make the O.ni stronger and no one wanted to face that alone. But together, they were a large target, and the second the O.ni was on them, it was over. Two guys got knocked aside by his club while the third was yanked back into his chest. Like the first survivor, he was gone in no time, slurped in between the mighty pecs and doomed to be ground down into more muscle and power. The last two tried to get up and flee, but they were easily grabbed by the backs of their shirts and dragged over. Their faces wound up pushed into the killer’s pits, which took them in just as eagerly as his pecs had. His biceps bulges out as the men were added to it, some twitching feet slurping out of sight just a few seconds later. O.ni flexed, his muscles bulging and growing as he roars out into the empty field. Another successful hunt. He had many more to come.

The survivor screamed as he felt the metal hook hit his leg. He falls and it reels back, dragging him along the ground too fast for him to fight back again. He’s flipped onto his back and the metal is removed form his leg, letting him stare up at the D.eathslinger. Well, past his gut first, but the survivor definitely got to see that cocky smirk and the hunger in those pale eyes. The other three had been shot and devoured rather easily, and this survivor was the last one. Not that he was getting away. He tried, immediately attempted to crawl off, but a hand around his collar yanked him off the ground with ease. He’s pull up over that burbling gut, filled with sludge that used to be three other people. He got to smell it on the killer’s breath as those jaws opened wide before him. And then he was food, crammed inside with each messy gulp dragging him deeper and deeper to that stuffed belly, the final course for the man’s meal. D.eathslinger throws his head back as he slurps up kicking legs, his hands resting on his gut for he could feel it bloat out. As the last of his meal settled into his gut with a thick sloshing sound, he let loose a deep belch into the air. He gives his gut a few slow smacks as it gets right to work on breaking down its latest catch. He really can’t get tired of good grub like this.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Do you have anymore Jason Voorhees pred prompts?

He is easily one of my favorite fictional men to crush on, which also means he is one of my favorite to write for. And since I'm still in such a massive fandom mood, I absolutely have some more! In fact, they’ll even fit a bit of a theme I like.

Every few years, they’d try to fill up the little houses around the lake with people. Summer homes, usually, where people will show up. A couple fathers and their sons, maybe some other family as well. A group of friends wanting to get away from it all for a while. College kids looking for a place to spend their summer, away from rules and responsibilities. None of that ever truly mattered to J.ason. All he saw were intruders on his lake, his territory...and meals. It was surprising to him how fast these homes could fill every year. Cheap homes sell fast to the right people, but that was nothing he really considered or even concerned himself with. All he knew was they needed to be emptied out every time they filled up. No matter who they were or how many people, J.ason made sure to pick off each and every man entering his domain and sending them down into his powerful guts to be mulched down with ease. This summer had especially been busy for him, though, and he found himself spending half of the week just beached with a stuffed gut, forced to sit and digest all the meat he had devoured before moving onto the next house. He knew, this early in the summer, they’d likely be sold again by the end of the season, but he’d be hungry again by then as well.

In the winter months, J.ason didn’t get as much food around his neck of the woods. Lakes didn’t seem appealing to people in such frigid temperatures, it seems. But it wasn’t always empty. Sometimes people would come around to enjoy one of the houses as a winter lodge. J.ason liked it when he could get into a house during such cold seasons. They usually had fires roaring away in their living room and he could sit down by it with a full stomach and enjoy the warmth he missed this time of year. He would almost say he liked it when people came by in this season. Not that that stopped him from devouring them out of their homes and letting them digest in his stomach. After all, that was part of why he liked having them around so much. Nothing beats digesting a heavy meal in such peaceful warmth.

When some men had come by his part of the woods today, likely to check out the houses he had been emptying out, he had heard them talking as he was stalking them down. Something about “feeding the thing in the forest”. Well, J.ason might not always be the brightest man around, but he knew he was the only ‘thing’ in the forest doing so much eating out of these homes. It was enough to make him back off for now, and sure enough, he had people in those homes within the week to devour. There was even an effort to get the lake camp reinstated, which he very effortlessly put an end to in a single day. J.ason would consider taking on the ones sending so many people into his forest, but as he let out a massive rattle of a belch into the forest, he decided that he would accept the free food...so long as it kept him sated.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Can you do more of brahms heelshire vore proms, his so underrated!

Honestly, I really do love the stinky wall man. He always needs more attention. I think it's in his rules.

When the caretaker took over the house, he thought the doll was...kind of weird. But it paid well and he got the house to himself, so it was fine. It got weirder when he thought the doll was haunted, but that was...fine. It got weirdest when the doll wasn’t haunted but was actually controlled by a man that lived in the walls the entire time. That was...actually better than the doll! The doll was making it lonely in a way that literally being alone wouldn’t have created, and by that point, having another person in the house to take care of--no matter how weird--was preferred. B.rahms was a bit odd but manageable, grown man or not. A bit whiny and almost spoiled, but manageable. The real curveball was when the caretaker had gone downstairs to greet the delivery guy, only to find B.rahms standing there with a twitching pair of legs hanging out of his jaws. When the two of them looked eyes, B.rahms quickly threw his head back and slurped the legs down, his hairy gut bloating outward with a slosh as an entire human drops inside. So maybe handling the grown man that lived in the walls and playing weird pranks on people was a bit more of an issue...knowing he could swallow down other grown people with ease. And trying to reprimand him only got a stuffed gut pressed again the wall and a very hungry glare from the masked man. Now the caretaker saw while B.rahms was a bit spoiled--he was very intimidating when he wanted to be, and more than hungry enough to live up to that, too. Best to just follow the rules and do what he wants for now...even if it means starting to go through delivery guys much faster.

B.rahms went through caretakers a lot. He couldn’t help himself--he kept getting really delicious ones coming by! Ever since he started sending out his own ads for help, he was getting a lot more options coming by and he was cycling through them just as fast. Not that it was his fault he kept scarfing them down over and over again. Chubby ones were just way too appetizing, and the short ones made him think about candy and snacks, and the muscular ones were full of protein--he knew he had to eat well! He was, however, noticing that the walls were squeezing his ever growing frame tighter and tighter after the tenth or eleventh digested caretaker. After the man that also came by with his boyfriend and son (al three obvious devoured and digested for being a full course meal), B.rahms couldn’t even squeeze into the spaces anymore. Which was an issue, since he needed his doll and his hiding spaces to test the caretakers and make sure they were good enough for him! But of course, after slurping down the man who had spent a week pampering him and giving him belly rubs, B.rahms realized that he was actually doing much better meeting these caretakers right off the bat. But...it was also making it much harder to resist munching on them, too. Maybe he’ll just get bigger spaces in the walls.

B.rahms was only getting hungrier and hungrier, the caretaker had realized. He’d been eating normal portions to begin with, but then he was burning through the weekly grocery delivers in half the time. And then in two days. And then just one. And then he was still hungry after that. And it was becoming an issue, keeping the large man well fed when his appetite seemed to only grow bigger and bigger. But...the caretaker just couldn’t say no to him! He knows that he shouldn’t have started giving B.rahms extra snacks or second portions--it was something left in the rules. But the puppy dog eyes and cute whine from behind that porcelain mask always got to the caretaker and he gave in. And now, three months later, two grocery delivers happened a day and B.rhams till wanted more. But there was nothing else the caretaker could do! But seeing that hungry man whine and give him the puppy dog eyes...just made the caretaker give in. B.rhams at least seemed very satisfied after scarfing down the caretakers, juding by the happy groans and thick belches that could be heard over the churning gut now surrounding the man. The caretaker just hopes the next one will be able to keep B.rahms full and sated. It was going to take a lot more than a human to do that, after all.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

The only thing that beats slashers as preds? Slashers as prey.

You are absolutely right. Time to snack on some deranged killers.

G.hostface had just finished leaving behind what used to be the best friend of the guy he was tormenting. It was so satisfying to digest that guy alive and leave him as a pile on the floor. He pulled out his phone and dialed up the same number the always did for a bit of taunting, but he was surprised when it was the guy who spoke first. "Guess what, asshole?" G.hostface pauses, not sure what his prey was getting to. "...what?" "I traced your phone, fucker!" G.hostface blinks. He did...what? He didn't get much more time to think about it before he was pinned to a wall from behind. He hadn't even realized the call was coming from inside the house, and now it was too late, his head engulfed in another man's maw. He squirmed and yelled, but his hefty frame was effortlessly slurped down the hatch, his phone coming back up with a wet belch. Seems like his game of cat and mouse ended early, and he was the mouse now.

J.ason knew someone was invading his forest, which is why he was stomping through the hunt them down. He'd had a few un ins with them already, and they were surprisingly difficult to take down. When he ended up being strung up in the air by a snare, he wasn't too happy. The cocky survivalist came out under him with a hunting knife, as if that was going to do anything. Jason swung his machete, slicing the rope holding him up with ease, and he fell straight down...into the survivalist's gullet. The man didn't even need to gulp as the heavy killer drops straight into his gut, the machete falling to the ground next to him the same time his gut bounced and sloshed with its sudden meal. He let out a deep belch, a hockey mask flying gout and hitting the ground as hsi gut begins to move around wildly. Not exactly what he had in mind to take the killer down...but he could work with this.

M.ichael was a stalker. He knew how to stay out of the way and out of sight when it came to tracking down his prey. He's light on his feet and moves quickly and silently at all times. But he can't control the environment, and the door he opened creaked so loudly that it was impossible not to notice. The man he'd been stalking was up in an instant, and M.ichael acted fast, trying to take the guy to the floor and devour him. But...it didn't work. M.ichael was shoved back too hard and went toppling over the couch with his prey. They land, and the s.hape finds his head somewhere dark and went. Then the gulping starts up, and it takes no time at all for him to get devoured by his would-be prey. The man sits back down on his couch, panting heavily with his gut now settled in his lap, already starting to churn around his meal. "...weird night, huh?"

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Unwilling slasher preds, if you please!

Hm hm, an interesting prospect. I can't think of anything that'll make a deranged killer want to kill you less than being waaaay too into it, so...

No, no, no! It was wrong! All of it was so wrong! G.hostface had been playing this for weeks--no, months! He had everything planned out so perfectly and it had gone so well! Friend after friend, screaming and begging as they slide down his gullet and into his ever fattening gut, digesting away so that he could use them to taunt his true prey. It was all going so perfectly! And then that bastard, the one this was all about, the person he wanted to scare and torture so badly, was into it? When he'd finally come around to claim his prey, the guy was begging to be his food. How could he have possibly missed this?! There's no point in it if this is what he wanted..! He had tried to leave, refuse to play along at all, but he was pinned to a wall quickly, hands groping his fat gut. The look in his prey's eyes...it wasn't fear. It was wrong. And yet he felt those hands soon shoving into his maw, down his gullet, and he had no choice but to swallow again and again and again until the guy was curled up deep in his stomach, wiggling around and making only the happiest of noises. This was not how it was supposed to go...

J.ason was...oh so very conflicted. On one hand, he was glad to be getting rid of the frat boys invading his camp and tainting his territory. On the other hand...the absolute vulgarity in it all made his stomach churn uncomfortably. Normally they would freak out or plead or run. And of course, he would always track them down and claim his meals. But this group of guys were just...different. Made it was something they smoked or the beer they'd been drinking, or maybe he was just unfortunate this time, but they were getting...really into it. After he guzzled down the first two guys, he had assumed all the bouncing around in his gut was struggling...he was wrong. he knew he was wrong from the way the other guys would rub his stomach and beg to be next with hazy, drunken, lustful eyes. J.ason very quickly wanted nothing to do with them, but even a powerful man like him was no match compared to needy, desperate prey. Each guy was able to force themselves down his gullet one way or another, sliding into his gut to join the rest of the group in their depravity. In the end, they were all down the hatch like they wanted to be, but J.ason was left wanting nothing more than to spit them up and chase them away. But he knew there was no choice but to give them what they wanted, as much as it stood against everything he worked for.

M.icheal was only in it for the hunt. He didn't care about the taste of his prey, or their size, or how long they lasted in his stomach. He liked the stalking, the preying, and chase and the thrill, and the look in their eyes when he finally caught them. And then of course, he ate them, like one would do to any piece of food they had gotten. But this one was different. There was no chase. No, instead, this one had cornered M.icheal, hands on his chest as he looked up with big puppy dog eyes. Being told that his prey wanted to be eaten was...different. M.icheal usually didn't express much emotion, but disgust was something on the tip of his tongue now. He pushed them away and tried to leave, but the prey refused, getting in his way again. When he tried to toss them aside, they grabbed onto him tightly, and when he lifted them up to carry them away, they'd shoved their hands into his mouth and started wiggling deeper. M.icheal's gullet had never released its grip on his prey, and he'd always considered that a good thing, until right this moment, when the one who took all the fun out of it was caught in its snare and sinking deeper. He hated that he was overpowered like that, and even if the prey was now in his stomach, he was going to do everything he could to ensure they enjoyed this as little as possible.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Any prompts on The Collector as a pred? Maybe some disposal too

I think I'll do this one as a story, just because I only got one idea I wanna write for. Definitely a bit of a darker one, just because of how this character is, but I enjoyed writing it!

A.sa is very particular about the men he eats. He won't settle for anything less than perfect. It takes a while for him to hunt down his desired prey. It's a process, one that he would die by. Eating another man is a very special moment, one that has to have a lot of preparation. And like a spider, he will wait on the web as long as it takes to get his meal.

It always starts the same. When he finds the one he wants, whoever that is, he will stalk them until he understands their entire routine perfectly. It's all for the simple act of knowing his catch and being able to trap them in their own routine. Once he finds out where they spend most of their time, he will wait for an opportunity to get into that place and turn it into his web. Usually, this is their home, but sometimes it might be another place of significance like a workplace or a hang-out spot.

Another important facet is to make sure that any other...extraneous pests are removed. That's where the traps come in, should anyone that isn't the desired prey get in his way. It's useful in dispatching friends, family members, or strangers that might otherwise interrupt his plan. And of course, he'll be there to claim his prize once the time is right.

Sometimes the prey is taken back to his home, thrown into the red suitcase he carries them in so they can be taken back. Other times, he may not have that luxury and simply devour his meal on the spot. If that happens, his suitcase is still used to carry...something. It usually needs a good cleaning afterward. But when his prey comes back with him, that's when he can have his fun.

Brought back to the spider's lair, the C.olletor's prey has no hope for escape. He can admire them as much as he wants for as long as he likes. Sometimes that might be minutes, it could be days, it could even be months. However long they hold his interest as a living being. But, in the end, his stomach's rumblings will always win over and his prey will be reminded of their place. Then he gets to enjoy it as they squirm and struggle and melt inside of him, his body claiming their own and turning them into a bit of fat on his frame to have forever. But that's not the most exciting part.

A.sa's favorite part is the disposal. All of his delicious prey are kept to be admired, even after being vacated from his body. He keeps glass encasing for such moments, each one filled with whatever was left of his meal. Something to admire them by forever, even if their final form is something foul like a bowel movement.