#vore drabble

[nom-central]

Your friend wants to eat you. Badly.

It's been like this for a while now- they've been staring at you a lot lately and wanting to be in your company a lot, always asking to hang out and hovering nearby. You can hear their stomach EASILY since they're so close- growling and groaning impatiently. They've taken to wearing thick sweaters to muffle the sound, but no matter how much they've eaten or how many layers they wear, it still insistently growls out for living food. Like you.

They know better than to just gobble you up; you've never been very receptive to the idea from other people and have fought your way out of jaws before. So you'd never let them, surely... But watching them struggle with this was agonizing. They were either going to snap, or starve themselves. It had to stop at some point, and you'd rather your friend not get hurt.

One day you've had it. They've come over for movie night, but their stomach is once again making a racket just from being next to you. You pause the movie to get up and get a snack, and they mumble that they'd like one too... When you come back, you set down your things and turn to your friend. Their curious expression turns to one of shock and surprise as you practically press yourself onto them, feeling the vibrations of their stomach through their hoodie as you grab onto their face.

"I want you to eat me."

[squirmifyoulike]

Listen I am a simple woman

Sometimes I just want to see two women fall in love with each other, have a sweet, devoted relationship, but one of them has a secret - she can eat people

And sometimes i just want to see the relationship end well with a loving session of one of them, the pred, consuming her S/O

i am so eepy i woke up early but yeah sapphic vore my beloved

[spookyscarycreepydollgirl]

He groans in pleasure as he feels her soul beginning to struggle against his. He can taste all the parts of her he admires as though they are spread out across his tongue. As her physical body weakens inside his belly, her soul opens up to him, helpless and trapped on all sides by a stomach made to keep more than flesh.

“Oh Ida, you are every bit as beautiful as I knew you would be” He cooed, hunger and adoration intertwined.

Can she feel how beautiful she is to him? Or does his hunger overshadow that part of him even now? When all walls and secrets between them should be dissolving? He hopes not, he hopes his admiration sears her soul as deeply as his stomach acids sear her flesh. He hopes she drowns in his adoration, that she softens in his gratitude, that she is undone by his regard.

Her soul seems to recoil at the very idea that he feels so strongly. It is not that she does not desire him or recognise him. But rather, that she is afraid, afraid that his love will disappear if he sees any more of her, if he sinks his fangs too deeply into what makes her, Ida. She thinks he will reject her, that he will spit her out. She underestimates the depth of his hunger, the depth of his love. Even after he has licked clean every scrap of her, he is confident, he will never stop wanting more.

She cries out and whines as his stomach tightens, were she anyone else, it might have been simple fear, but here and now he senses that she is overwhelmed by the feelings inside him. She wants to be corrupted and overtaken, to drown in him and succumb to his twisted ravenous affection. She has never felt more loved and that truly scares her. She does not believe she deserves him.

Which is ridiculous, when it is he who does not deserve her. He is a monster, a predator, a hopeless glutton, who is at this very moment digesting the one person he values most in all the world. If she wants him as much as he wants her, who is he to deny her? To reject or abandon her? He is nothing but a simple minded spider, a gaping void of hunger that can never truly be fulfilled. If Ida wants him, all of him, then she has but to ask and he will lavish her in affection until she forgets where his love ends and she begins.

[smol-and-trashy]

Dual POV vore thing

Idk it wasn’t Twisted Wonderland related until it kinda became. Imagine whatever smug character you want tbh. The only TWST ref is the character’s name

———————————

He had her.

As her tiny form slipped down his throat, he traced her descent. Following the slight bulge from beneath his chin to the crest of his collarbone.

Reclining in the chair, its front wooden legs hovering as his feet rested on the table for balance, he hummed.

Beyond savoring her taste, the sensation of her plunging deeper into his core was undeniably delicious, delectable.

As she pooled into his gut, her immediate squirms and muffled words were met with casual indifference. He pressed the flat of his fingers to his belly, grinning as a flurry of movement occurred in retaliation.

Sure, he’ll release her eventually, but for now, he was going to have some fun with his little toy.

••••••••••••••••••

Plus a prey POV, let’s name her Yuu lol

The asshole actually swallowed her. As Yuu slid down his throat, she was in a shocked trance. Sure, he was playing around with her, raising her above his open mouth and whatnot but she didn’t think the oaf would actually swallow.

Squeezed down his tight gullet, it felt like the world’s most claustrophobic water slide. Yuu dropped into a more open space, the walls dripped with liquid, constantly moving, and the stale odor of past meals made her irritably kick at the nearest wall.

Unbridled chuckles closed in around her, hurling Yuu across the confined space. Her nails dug into the floor, trying to grasp some semblance of stability as she shook off the dizziness. Nerves grated, anxiety fried — she lashed out, hitting and scratching at the walls. Yuu’s entire body was drenched and sticky, courtesy of the oppressive mugginess of her surroundings.

With her hair clinging to her face, Yuu swore she would make this bastard pay the moment she got out of here.

[fairlyqualityanon]

Digging Your Own (Snow)Grave

You thought the sins of Frisk/Chara/Kris were confined to the game world, that when you closed the window, it all collapsed back into a mess of 0s and 1s. 'Your choices don’t matter,' it said. But what you do online doesn't necessarily stay online. Chara corrupting your game data on Steam isn't the worst outcome from a Genocide route.

5.6k words of reader insert fluffy vore featuring Spam//ton NEO (on whom I now have a massive Switch crush) for 8/8 Vore Day, I had fun with this and I hope you enjoy! (read on AO3)

Masterlist

-----------------

You pick up the novelty glasses you’d found in a shop. They were just sitting on a shelf with a ton of other junk, so you had held them against your face while you sent a selfie to your friend.

//Spamton cosplay when? 😛//

It was actually a little weird how much they looked like they’d popped directly out of the game: one lens yellow, one magenta; opaque looking in, nearly transparent looking out.

Only a couple of dollars, so why the heck not?

-----------------

You scrunched your eyes, not wanting to wake up. Fumbling for your phone, you squint to see what time it was. No signal. Ugh, had the tower gone out again? The battery was getting pretty low, too, so you sat up with a grumble and opened your eyes.

Um. This didn’t look like your bedroom, or your house at all. Everything was lit by the blue light of a computer screen, as if you were in some cyberpunk dystopia.

You stood up and cracked your knuckles. This was absolutely a dream, so why not make the most of it?

Something was taking up space in your pocket, you noticed, phone not wanting to go all the way in. With your free hand, you rummaged through the mess. What the heck was all this stuff? You started to pull your hand back out, surprised by the window materializing in front of you. It looked not-all-there, kind of like menu options in VR.

'Inventory', it said, listing a fair number of items. Hey, you recognized some of those!

Freeze Ring

> Devilsknife

A small charm in the shape of a colorful scythe, about the size of a keychain ornament, appeared in your hand.

Was this dream based on a video game? Deltarune was an odd choice, if so.

So. Your subconscious based the dream on Chapter 2, Cyber World's Snowgrave route. A first-person visualization of the map was absolutely beautiful, and you wondered from what your mind was drawing to flesh out the dream.

Glancing to your right, you saw a large dumpster, surrounded by bags of printer sheets. You stood on your tiptoes to peek inside it. That weirdo NPC vendor Spamton had abandoned it when you triggered his breaking into the Castle, you remembered; had he left anything behind?

No, just the pillow that showed in the flavor text of any dumpster you checked. At least it was behind a clothing store, otherwise the smell would have been overwhelming. Oh, and some twist of fabric on top of the pillow.

Yoink! Like any good RPG player, you picked up everything Just In Case.

Puppet Scarf was added to your weapons.

Why was it in there, though? It was the reward for defeating Spamton NEO through violence, or else finishing the Snowgrave route, so either the player character or the final boss should have it.

It was a really interesting NPC, everyone scrambling with theories and headcanons; nobody could have guessed ‘battle theme remixes are canon’. The obligatory 'Gaster did it' featured, of course, but you couldn't keep up with all of that.

Maybe you should follow along, staying out of sight in case Berdly hadn't been Frozen yet. You didn't know if you could die here, but you weren't taking that chance. You felt a little chilly, so you wrapped the scarf-weapon around your neck. Much better.

There had been a SAVE point around here somewhere... There! A flickering blue-white four-pointed star. You touched it eagerly, wondering if it would say 'Kris' or else the character name you'd picked before the first chapter.

Blank. Guess you got to pick your own name. As you focused on the menu, it changed to the keyboard screen, a transparent cartoony hand indicating the first character slot, which was empty. The next five, however, were filled.

_ASTER

You tried to move the pointer to the other slots. No luck. Shrugging, you selected the blank space. The hand flew down to point at the letter 'G'.

You sure as hell weren't picking that one. What would happen to you if the game crashed?

Just like the name field, you couldn't move the hand to any other letter.

This was a dream, right? You were already lucid, so why not try to control it? Squinting your eyes at

SELECT

ENTER

you willed a third option into existence

SELECT

ENTER

> delete

... Are you sure?

You nod your head curtly.

'G' disappeared from the keyboard, leaving a darker hole in an already dark background.

Well, you still couldn't change character position, but you needed a first letter. Something nonsensical didn't sound any fun. 'M'? 'E'? 'C'?

'F', you decide, reaching for the symbol.

MISS

"‘Taster’? That's stupid," you scoff as it confirms the name and returns to the SAVE screen.

You followed the trail of recently-living ice sculptures, passing a mini iceberg. You tried to avoid looking at it, feeling guilty for the quasi-Genocide Run.

No one - not even the fearful NPCs - spotted you as you slipped into Queen's Mansion. The door to The Basement was right there, the one with the scratched-out panel.

That rapid teacup ride was annoying, but you descended unscathed even though your thoughts were filled with questions, not just 'how did I get here?' but also ones such as 'what will I find down there?'. In your own save files, you'd had to restart the Pacifist Playthrough a few times in order to SPARE Spamton NEO with a full inventory, because the double-secret dialogue cracked you up.

Able to enter the basement, you weren't certain if the discarded robot had been activated. Kris sealed the Cyber World Fountain immediately upon freezing Spamton NEO, so it couldn't have been defeated and progressed past already. The door was blocked when you entered the Mansion in-game, because Spamton had already taken it over. So where was the antagonist NPC?

You crept through the basement, taking a single step into the end room where the robot was stored, all the way at the very end. You could just barely see it from here.

The Empty Disk wouldn’t be in there, would it? Snowgrave didn’t have that quest; your character never formally met him since you indirectly helped by clearing the way. You wanted it, though, if you could still turn it into the Loaded Disk and then definitively bring both bosses with you to the next chapters.

A sapient - or sentient, at the very least - floppy disk? Lancer's flavor text was funny enough, but the glitchy NPC's dialogue was completely novel. Toby Fox had really outdone himself, using Chapter One to trick you and other players into thinking choices at best only altered a few lines. Jevil was completely optional and gave one piece of equipment; Spamton NEO was optional normally but also the final boss of Deltarune's 'Genocide Route' equivalent.

Adjusting the Puppet Scarf around your neck, you reached into the cavity of the machine and fished out the glasses.

DEALMAKER was added to your wea

Was added to your

added to y

[ERROR]

404 [STYLE] Not Found

"What the [BEEP] was that?" you muttered. Starting to fold the earpieces together, you paused and - on a whim - decided to put them on. Maybe it would wake you up, a sort of double negative?

Hmm. Nope. You bet you looked stylish as hell, though. Time to go find a mirror!

You were wondering if you could hack somehow the Mannequin into your inventory, get the full set of secret-second-boss-themed equip. Those Addisons didn't have full-on shops the way Gerson, Burgerpants, Seam, or Roulx did, so you couldn't simply collision box glitch your way in. Were they one of the enemies you froze while grinding to get Spamton's Thorn Ring? Eh, you'll check on your way back out.

The background music was really starting to set you on edge, though. The Basement was inaccessible during Snowgrave after you'd hit enough internal flags. But the Genocide Route music - Flowey’s slowed theme - featured. It was spooky, making you feel like you were being watched. All the NPCs were either hiding, locked up, or deadfrozen.

A low rumble shook the room and you wobbled for a moment, arms flailing. Was that Giga Queen? You didn't actually fight her in Snowgrave, though. The Spamton NEO fight? That happened outside the mansion. Better hurry and get out of here.

You heard the rumble again, but this time the floor remained steady. Turning around, you called out - perhaps foolishly - "Who's there?"

Something scraped against the far wall, a metal-on-metal sound that threw off a shower of sparks not quite bright enough for you to see what had made it.

Backing up slowly, you panned your gaze back and forth in the gloom. This was quickly going from 'quirky dream' to 'outright nightmare'.

You caught a blur of motion and tilted your head up and up, and up even more, your eyes adjusted to the dark enough to trace the outline of the towering figure seeming to coalesce from the shadows, two large circles flaring with the illumination of a non-existent sun.

Oh bleep, you think to yourself, automatically self-censoring. The Spamton NPC had been smaller than all four of your controllable party characters, and those were schoolchildren. The abandoned robot was roughly Queen’s height, and the optional boss Spamton NEO had been between two and three times Kris’ height.

But this? This thing? It was colossal, and almost bulky compared to its vibrant buggy Slenderman aesthetic in-game.

You finger the Devilsknife in your pocket before firmly grabbing its handle and swinging it out in front of yourself in a defensive stance. You realize it’s the same battle posture as the Kris character, though Susie was the only one you could equip the bonus boss’ item to. You were glad you’d taken the violence option in Chapter 1, originally because it blatantly implied you were bringing said boss along with you, but now because it gave you a sharp object to cut the wires of this boss.

As you did so, your surroundings spun away, replaced by the arcade style background of the Battle screen. The dissonant notes of 'Deal Gone Wrong' played under the echoes of Spamton NEO's battle intro.

"HOLY [Cungadero] DO I FEEL GOOD. ...HERE I AM!! [Player #1]!! IT'S TIME FOR A LITTLE [Specil Tour]!!"

Was that his normal dialogue? It sounded familiar, but you didn't think it was strictly accurate. Time to put your Mad Gamer Skilz to use; hopefully those translated over to the dream.

In your playthrough, the videogame boss had a set animation pattern, only 'looking' in a direction based on its attack. Even when firing off various projectiles, its head and gun arm always pointed in the exact same position per cycle.

But the very real creature - person? machine? - shooting very real bullets at you was tracking your every movement. Though you strafed and jumped - something the top-down 2D game definitely didn't allow for - Spamton NEO followed you with no delay. Freaky.

Your arms were so sore, completely unused to the weight of such a heavy scythe. It giggled uncannily as you whipped it through the air, fortunately encountering no resistance, but your hands were covered in sweat and struggling to keep your grip on the handle. The impact of the Pipis fragments - whatever the blue bouncing eggs were supposed to be - wasn’t doing you any favors either.

And then it happened. Lungs burning, you swiped at a Pipis you were too tired to dodge, whiffing entirely. Rather than colliding in a burst of pain and depleting HP, it exploded on contact into a tangle of wires just like the ones holding the machine up, though yours were blue instead of green.

"TIED [down] TO A [loan] YOU CAN’T REPAY? [Die now] AND SEE IF YOU QUALIFY FOR [forgiveness]."

The cartoon heart beating in front of your chest dimmed - no, was changing color - and you felt a surge of emotion. Was this the Determination mechanic from the first game? A green light flashed in your vision, accompanied by the beep of health restoration.

"THERE'S A NEW [palette] TO YOUR [facial glow]... GETTING YOUR SECOND WIND, [Player 1]?"

There it was again. The boss was supposed to address your character as ‘Kris’, except for when ‘you whispered Noelle’s name’. No such thing as ‘reading too much into it’ here: too vivid to be a dream, too much pain to be a hallucination.

With each pulse, the orange heart became darker and darker until it glowed green. That wasn’t a feature in this game, unless it would be a mechanic in the upcoming chapters: kindness and shield mode. You didn't have a shield from Kris' DEFEND action, nor the Spear Of Justice from the Undertale fight with Undyne.

"THIS [final boss] HAS A [limited time only specil] JUST FOR YOU!"

"Shut up! Shut up!" you yelled, "Your voice lines are even more annoying than that other secret boss, how do I skip your dialogue!?"

Your wires tightened, lifting you into the air until you were dangling at a level to look Spamton NEO in the eyes from across the battlefield. The words

(Wrong choice...?)

floated before you. According to the wiki, Spamton and Jevil were rivals, so you probably touched a nerve.

"NOW IS THAT ANY WAY TO TALK TO [your old pal] SPAMTON? AFTER HE’S [offering] YOU SUCH A SWEET SWEET [meal]?"

Wait what. This sounded sketchy as frick. "You’re just a computer program, what kind of ‘deal’ could you offer me, a real person?"

Bitcrushed yet cacophonous laughter echoed and you winced, unable to reach your ears to cover them. You couldn’t look away from the grotesque mouth gaping in a maniacal cackle, stretching almost up to the glowing bichromatic lenses. They gleamed in turn, like when you were playing Undertale’s Neutral Route and had to fight Asgore, and you prepared to dodge... however that would happen without Muffet’s webs to hop and your SOUL green instead of purple.

"AN UNFORGETTABLE [never] IN A LIFETIME DEAL."

"What if I don’t like the sound of your deal?" You were blushing; you knew what you’d heard, as much as you'd like to pretend you didn't.

"ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO TURN DOWN THE CHANCE OF A [very specil tour]?"

You mentally cursed your heated cheeks, probably as bright now as the hue of a Determined SOUL. You were pretty well cornered, with so few options. Right on cue, an ACT prompt materialized.

CONCEDE

DENY

Good thing the menu screens didn’t require your physical body for interaction. How could you lie? The truth was evident.

> CONCEDE

DENY

"But I used Incognito Mode!" You protest. The exact outcomes of dialogue selections were difficult to predict, but you weren’t going to complain about this one.

"HA HA HA. YOU THOUGHT YOUR USING [the Google Bing] WAS [blockchain encrypted]!?"

The rooms in Queen's castle were supposedly personalized based on the various NPC's web searches in Hometown, giving you clues into their backstories, but how would your real world searches be scraped? The original file name of Deltarune Chapter 1 seemed to mock scam programs, but it couldn't really be a Trojan or something.

It didn't make sense. Actually, it made total sense but should have been impossible.

"Well... Yeah," you admitted, adding suspiciously, "I want to know more about this deal of yours: what are you demanding in return?" Acting interested at first was how you SPAREd him in the Normal Route, so it couldn't hurt to hear him out as your HP blipped back to full.

The noises of the Basement returned in a deafening rush and Spamton's wires - no, yours... No, both of yours - dragged you closer together, battle screen below you vanishing as well.

"I mean, this is a video game; you're a boss NPC and I'm not a character at all!" What did it want from you? What could it possibly want?

His ever-present grin turned sharklike, sensing a captive potential customer as certainly as smelling blood in the water.

"[Player 1]! I WANT. THAT SHINING SOUL. YOU HAVE. THE [determination] OF A PERSON [level grinding] TO REACH THE HIGH [leaderboard]."

Yeah, no. Not happening. You didn't fancy dying in a dream, even one as weird as this. "No. Absolutely not. You can't have it. I kinda need this to, you know, live?" You dipped your head to indicate the vulnerable green SOUL.

His wings arched forward, as if reaching out to you. They cast twin shadows over the whole room, but stopped just before crossing the halfway point.

"WHEN I'M OFFERING YOU A [free cruise] FOR [hot singles in your area]?"

You just narrowed your eyes, remaining silent.

Spamton NEO shook his head reproachfully. "I KNOW I CAN'T [alt-tab] MY WAY OUT OF [the most dangerous game] BUT WITH YOUR [no background check required] [cheap rental] SOUL POWER I CAN STILL. BE BIG. SO VERY VERY BIG. SEE PAST THE DARK."

He knew it was a videogame, that you were a real person and he just a program. What sort of implications did that have for Deepest Lore? It seemed Spamton just wanted control over the game itself, unlike Chara, who wanted both the game and reality. You could live with this on your conscience. Hopefully it wouldn’t ruin the SAVE files of whoever’s computer this was.

"THIS OFFER IS [for a limited time only] UNTIL YOU [ctrl-alt-del] BACK TO [aren't you tired of working a boring 9-to-5 desk job?]!"

"So... Temporarily? I'll still own my SOUL. And not die?"

Silence. Just for a moment. And then he bowed, one hand behind his back and the other extended in the classic 'let's shake on it' deal stance.

Your vines descended, unraveling and falling to the ground in loops at your feet.

What had that stuffed cat NPC said after you beat Jevil? "He started saying bizarre things that didn't completely make sense - But didn't completely not make sense, either."

Time froze again, even the flicker of the nearby Dark Fountain reflected on Spamton NEO's massive teeth. You glanced at the small menu in front of you.

AGREE

REFUSE

You hovered your ghostly disembodied finger over the damning words before drawing in a nervous breath and firmly pushing

> AGREE

REFUSE

Your arm stretched out - almost without thinking - placing your right hand in the robotic puppet's. It was so small by comparison, your entire hand barely covering even one of his fingertips.

Spamton's too-broad grin widened - somehow - even further, carefully pinching your hand between thumb and a single index finger, giving it the tiniest shake.

You smiled hesitantly, emboldened by the gentle contact and what appeared to be a warm cast to the glowing lenses. That smarmy stereotypical 'used car salesman' expression was so hard to read; you had to make wild guesses from his posture and the area around Spamton's glasses. He didn’t seem the slightest bit hostile anymore, and Mercy +100% had flashed the moment you picked to agree to his deal, so you felt you could trust it.

Facial expression unchanging, he released his hold on your hand and, barely a second later, lunged forward with his own, wrapping all three fingers around you in a firm grip. You couldn’t tell if Spamton NEO stood back up or if it was the wires tugging him upright; searching for the answer was rather low on your list of priorities right now. Instead, you were hyper aware of just how high up you’d been snatched, and that you were staring directly into the eyes of a giant who’d just agreed to EAT you.

Struggling wouldn’t do you the least bit of good; while you would certainly survive a fall from that height, you couldn’t possibly limp away fast enough. You were pretty sure your SOUL was still green, anyway.

The boss seemed content to study you placidly, and you swallowed nervously, hoping the hammering of your heart wasn’t too obvious. It gave you a better view as well.

The Saw-like red dots on his cheeks from the original body were gone, leaving a uniformly shiny bone-white surface. Spamton NEO’s plating and wings, on the other hand, were incredibly garish, but also weirdly pleasant to look at; the tiny animated figure on your computer screen simply did not do the character justice.

You could faintly see a pair of thick carats on his face behind the glasses. Hadn't the Addison shopkeepers mentioned he'd been one of them, 'just a little unlucky'? That was certainly support for the theory. You also thought you could see your reflections twinned in pink and orange staring back apprehensively, you were so close to his face.

Even if it wasn't a dream or hallucination, nobody in the real world would know about this. It's not like you'd ever had a vore dream, so you didn't want to look this gift horse in the mouth. Though, you were looking him in the mouth, worried about just what lay behind those gleaming teeth. How would this even work?

Uneasy didn't even begin to describe your emotional state right now; all the vore scenarios you'd read and seen heavily featured trust, something untenable at the moment. You had to fight against the very human response that was cringing in fear, failing entirely when Spamton NEO opened his mouth. Was this the Money Vacuum attack? It looked like you’d been betrayed!

Except... You didn’t hear battle music, not a single one of the many themes. Instead, you were popped unceremoniously into his mouth the way a person might toss back a TicTac, or perhaps a breath mint.

You lifted your head to watch the shrinking window of light, vanishing fully with the creaking slam of a garage door. No backing out now; the deal had been sealed behind you as surely as his teeth.

Everything was dark. So, so dark. The Battle Menu had been the only light source besides Cyber World's Dark Fountain, and now you had neither of those. You didn't really want to move around, what if you fell? The texture you were on was too smooth to be fabric, but had too much give to be metal. What else could there be in the robot body?

You started to stand up, deciding that maybe exploring was a good idea after all, when something large knocked into you, causing you to fall back over again. Pushing yourself awkwardly to your knees, the whatever-it-was bumped you again, far more cautiously this time.

Huh. The robot had a tongue. Not too far fetched of an idea, you thought. It gently pressed against your side, almost like an affectionate dog, if dogs were slightly damp and had the faint odor of ozone.

Deals go both ways... 

You obligingly leaned on it, gradually transferring all of your weight. Apparently taking that as permission, it slicked up your arm, halting just below your head.

If this thing - you really needed to be fairer and treat it like a person, as a ‘he’ and not an ‘it’, since the NPC seemed to be fully sapient - knew about your frequently-cleared search history, then he would also know you didn’t like the harsher and more violent types of vore.

A professional salesman might make underhanded deals, but it would be a poor salesman indeed who failed to deliver on those shady promises.

It felt weird to think of yourself as ‘tasty’, but that was clearly Spamton’s opinion, tongue insistently scooting you to the smooth inside of his weird teeth and starting to cover you all over with whatever its equivalent of saliva was. Maybe your hitting the wrong letter on the SAVE screen was some sort of Freudian slip, or the game giving you a sly nudge and a knowing wink.

The average - the sane and normal - person would consider this to be a living nightmare, but you? You were loving this. You let out a contented sigh and finally allowed yourself to fully relax. The warmth and steady pressure was doing wonders for your acquired aches and pains.

Aches and pains that Spamton NEO had caused, beating the absolute crap out of you in your battle.

Were you the equivalent of a boss encounter, one where you needed to FIGHT to lower the enemy's willpower? You certainly never would have admitted to this otherwise...

He absolutely owed you a massage for that. Not really the best start to a business relationship, now was it?

His jaw creaked open just enough for you to see back out through it. When had he traveled to the Dark Fountain? Eh, didn't really matter.

You were tipped very deliberately over the row of teeth, tucked safely down in the confines of Spamton's cheek pocket.

"AND NOW. [Player 1]. WITNESS THE [alternating current] OF SPAMTON [NEO] EX."

'Ex'? You hoped you weren't about to be in the middle of an explosion.

You waited expectantly, practically seeing the

(* . . . )

scroll in the text box.

"MY [power level], IT’S STILL NOT [over 9000]!"

The words were pretty well garbled - he was clearly trying very hard not to hurt you - but they were laden with helpless anger. You actually felt bad for Spamton; seemed a real person was insufficient, or perhaps incompatible with the wherever-you-were. In the game’s Normal Route, he hadn’t attacked your party until noticing he was still trapped by the computer cables masquerading as puppet strings.

The crackle of TV static failed to mask what was clearly a wail of utter despair.

At a loss for what to do, you wriggle one arm free and pat the cheek surface. Hopefully he could feel it, your attempt to offer some measure of comfort. You’d tried. You’d really really tried, and even wanted him to succeed.

A knot twisted in your stomach; you’d never felt such strong emotion towards a simple videogame character. Susie’s words to Kris in the beginning of Chapter 1 when the game wouldn’t let you pick a dialogue option echoed in your mind - ‘Your choices don’t matter.’ Seemed that had been directed at you and the other players after all, not the in-game character Kris. All you’d done was give him false hope.

"FINE." Sure didn't sound 'fine' to you. "FIREWALL ACTIVE. ALL [sales] FINAL. [Frequent flier miles] NOT ELIGIBLE FOR REFUND." Intensely frustrated, but not angry. Or at least, not angry at you, fortunately.

Working his jaw awkwardly, he fished you back out and swished his tongue over you one last time before propelling you to the rear of his mouth. You’d have been fibbing if you’d said this next part didn’t make you even more nervous.

You were over the edge before you knew it, unable to so much as yelp in shock as your entire world collapsed into a tiny cylinder.

Tight. So tight that you could barely draw in even a half breath. The 'gulp' of a swallow sounded more like a 'click' followed by the 'whirr' of whatever was squeezing you down his throat. Despite trying to take shallow breaths, you felt dizzy. Or was that just the blood rushing to your head?

You almost didn't notice when you'd left his throat, since the stomach-analogue was similarly lacking in space. The only real clue was the cessation of dispassionate swallows.

Once you were fully inside the thankfully-much-drier chamber you heard what sounded like a semi truck's air brakes. Was that a sigh?

Even though your end of the deal was just loaning the Power of Determination found in human SOULs - or rather, attempting to - you were still kind of glad Spamton had enjoyed eating you. After all, your favorite scenarios involved the predator character being just as pleased as its prey, a mutual satisfaction. ‘Vore as a comfort mechanism’, the meme went. Even if he didn't get the resultant power he’d wanted, at least he’d scored a delicious ‘snack’ out of it.

You realized you were blushing again; seems you really were ‘vore trash’. You knew you’d be hyper-critical of every piece of vore media you found from here on out. tHaT's NoT hOw It WoRkS, you thought with a grin.

Resting your head on the pebbled-but-yielding material, you realized that neither of you had so much as mentioned duration. Not that you minded being in-

Um... Where exactly were you?

How long had it taken him to swallow you? It felt like forever, but couldn’t have been all that long; the robotic neck hadn’t looked nearly so thin from the outside.

If it was indeed Mettaton had drafted this body with Swatch - probably in Paint, going from how tastelessly the color scheme clashed - then you have serious questions about that NPC; what exactly was a depressed ghost that wanted to be an attractive robot thinking, making something like this!?

You took in a breath of air that tasted alarmingly like fried circuits, ready to ask just how long Spamton planned on holding you, and if he knew how to get you back to your world, then a pleasant breeze tousled your hair. Oh good, no worrying about oxygen; you would neither suffocate nor asphyxiate.

Totally safe, the only enemy with higher HP than his NEO form was the Giga Queen, and he could boost his Defense to an insane level at the end of a Snowgrave Route, so all you had to worry about was if Spamton experienced the coding glitch equivalent of a psychotic break and tried hurting you.

Now, if only you had the room to stretch out...

"[Dial up] CONNECTION ESTABLISHED." Wow, now that sound was a blast from the past.

The walls around you suddenly crackled with static, some remaining black - their cathode tubes probably burnt out - while most displayed the old test card bars, like pixels, countless miniature TV screens forming the surface of his stomach.

All but a couple, comprising two circles - just a few feet in diameter - directly in front of you shut off. They looked like his glasses... Could he see in here!?

The circles swept up and around, back and then down, evidently focusing on you.

"It seems I'm too broke[n] to [afford] a spacious [apartment]."

There it was, the semi-lucidity after a battle’s end. Chapter 2 had the most minor of Easter eggs regarding Tasque Manager and Jevil, so it was highly unlikely you or any other player would learn what had twisted either secret boss’ mind.

"You don’t hear me complaining." You curled up, managing to twist yourself the other way so you were reclining rather than laying down at an angle. "It’s pretty nice in here." ‘And you handed me my ass in battle,’ you decided against saying.

"[Some assembly required.]" A dry critique.

"Hey, um..." You watched as several screens dimmed to static and back to dull coloration, Spamton apparently struggling to get his new body's glitches under control. "I'm really... I'm sorry."

The yellow oval moved upward a few inches while the magenta one stayed put. You thought that was like raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't deliver on my promise. You gave me everything I asked for, but you couldn't use SOUL power at all. Even if that wasn't going back on the deal, I'm still sorry."

Everything went dark again and you startled, not sure if you were concerned more for yourself, or for Spamton. But the screens came back to life right away... was that a blink?

"I WAS NEVER IN IT FOR THE POWER. FOR THE [Kromer]. FREEDOM. THE FREEDOM TO MAKE MY OWN [download now!]. MY OWN CHOICES. AND. I FOUND ANOTHER SATISFIED [customer]!"

You chuckled. "Me? Or you?"

There was that annoying laugh again. "A SUCCESSFUL [meal]."

Yep. He meant himself. You didn’t mind in the slightest; in fact, you were probably more happy even than you were embarrassed.

You reached out your hand, as filled with the Power that was surely Determination as you had been when making your 'Taster' SAVE file, and tapped the space between the colored ovals. "I don’t know where ‘here’ is in relation to the real world, if it’s an instance on someone’s computer or what, or whose computer that would be, but just in case... I’ll make sure to send Kris by."

What if you played a new Snowgrave route, but stopped at the final SAVE point before fighting Spamton NEO, pulled that save file and move it to a secure position on your computer in an entirely different folder? That would be as close as you could get, in reality, to fulfilling the NPC’s quest. Hopefully you’d remember when you woke up from this really-not-half-bad dream.

"I WON'T FORCE YOU. I CAN'T. I CAN'T FORCE YOU. BUT. A VALUED [customer] MAKING A [comeback tour]? MY [clearance special] WILL HAVE A [membership card] ONLY ON [layaway]."

"Got it. I’ll keep that in mind." This was all so stupidly bizarre, you wanted to blow up a friend’s phone with DM notifications, but would they honestly believe you’d had such a strange and vivid dream? Far too good to be true, so it definitely had to be a dream. 

-----------------

You blinked your eyes out of sync. Had you fallen asleep? If so, that was one [Holy Cungadero] hell of a dream. Super weird, too, though the details were fading quickly.

You sat up and yawned, stretching your arms over your head. You were so sore; napping at your desk hadn't done your back any favors.

Hang on, what was that in your hand? Oh, just those silly thrift store glasses.

... Did they always have that paper price tag on it? Fastened with instrument - looked like guitar - strings? There was writing on it, too.

//THANK YOU, VALUED [Taste Tester]! YOUR FREE TRIAL HAS [frozen]. Please purchase a subscription in order to [Reload] for the low low price of [$19.97] per month!//

... You are never going to toss these.

-----------------

A/N:

I headcanon that the stomach in Spamton's NEO form is actually up in his chest cavity, and the yellow triangle is a screen that displays the SOUL of any Lightner prey.

“the Google Bing” physically hurt me to type out

(G)ASTER was originally just going to be a jab at Theorists, but it wound up being significant

The dialogue - especially Spamton’s - is not up to my usual exacting standards, but I think it’s good enough for this little project.

'>delete' and '...Are you sure?'/'(Wrong choice...?)'/'(* . . . )' were supposed to be two different fonts separate from the main font

If you enjoyed, please feel free to give me a little feedback (and/or AO3 kudos), it really helps with my motivation.

[trashytummies]

TWST short unfinished vore + g/t thing

A/N: Started writing a whole intro to a g/t + vore fic that was gonna have pred!Ruggie but ofc, Jamil snakes (pun intended) his way into my mind. Just wanted to post. Not sure if I’m gonna continue it ^^;

___________

“Aww, you’re all bite-sized, shishishi,” The hyena beastman snickered as he raised Yuu a little higher so they were at eye level. “Gotta say, you’re kinda cuter like this.”

-

-

-

It was a black, bitter bog inside Jamil’s stomach. If the Vice-Housewarden knew they were in there, he gave no indication of it. I am going to murder Floyd. Yuu murmured under their breath and began to paw around. It’s thick and dark, and the humidity made their skin itch. Yuu took a step forward, but the ground beneath them felt uneven, almost like dirt but with far more squelching. The air smelled stale and wet, and the walls were pulsing. It took every ounce of strength Yuu had just to stay upright while trying not to vomit.

I want out, now.

[nom-the-noodle]

(Some vorish writing for you. Enjoy!)

'Your move."

A foot tapped along the checkered floor to match the tempo of the pounding in her head. One could hear the gears trying to figure out where to go from her spot, though her concentration was being slightly sabotaged for a couple of reason. Mainly the large figure perched in front of her, looming over the stage as they gazed upon her. A smile crossed softly on their face resting upon folded hands as they patiently waited for their guest.

A friendly game among comrades it was supposed to be, as least that's what was implied. A game of chess, a battle of wits and strategy. It started out simple, a couple of pawns taken on either side. Black taking white’s knight. White counters, stealing black’s rook. Evenly matched, the same level as both sides talked as pieces were moved and swiped. But with every piece she watches get taken by black, the more something seemed off. Were they…. always that tall?

No no, they were just getting in her head somehow. They got a look in their eye as the kingdoms continued to go to war, like the knew something they didn’t. No, they were just psyching her out…. right? Those doubts shrank more and more as the pieces seems to tower more and more along with her now giant of a friend’s presence. Unfazed as their side of the board slowly took siege. With every pawn, another bit of height was taken.

So we cut to now, the size of the chess tokens spanning around her like a fallen fortress. And the dragon toppling her empire was just about ready to claim their throne. She told in front of her king, looking between a bishop and a knight trying to think of which was a better play. Again it was so hard to think feeling hungry eyes watching her every move for a read. She swallowed hard, palms sweating as she grew more and more concerned of their new perspective. It felt like no matter what was done, she was caught. “I suggest you do something soon. It’s getting close to lunch and I don’t think you’d want to delay that hm?”

'You're not helping.' Then now little one piped up, nerves clear on the tongue as she stared intently at her pieces. Looking anywhere else would break more than just her concentration. The pressure was on. With one uncertain move, carefully she moved her bishop to the over, shoving it a good spaces along before coming to a stop. Mostly cause it was easiest to move as this size. Secondly because it was supposed to bait them to get their queen out only for a near pawn to swipe. A trap laid out, albeit messily. She took a few breaths, leaning against the bishop awkwarding from the movement. She didn't notice them come down and effortless make their move, a rook lifted in a moment over for the tower to land.... right where her unguarded king was.

'Checkmate.' The word rolled off the tongue like a purring cat, drinking the small victory. She didn't need to see their face to feel that gaze lock onto her once more, a shadow quickly engulfing her. The hand didnt go go take the fallen king, rather scooping up their much better prize in their palm. Fingers lightly pinched her waist enough to take her breath away, vertigo leaving her lungs on the ground as she was taken.

Much more predatory eyes now gleamed as she stopped in front of their face, taking up her whole field of vision. She was felt trembling against their skin, already having an inkling of what was to come next.

'Good game, I have to admit. But you do need to work on letting your nerves not get the best of you, my dear. Lest you end up in the keep. Now, about that lunch.'

[sinfulforrest]

Full of many thoughts tonight...I wanna make a yandere oc that's essentially a building-like entity that wants you and will do anything to keep you within it...the structure of it is fleshy and full of gore, but uncanny blends of normal arcitrcture seamlessly meld into the living tissue to make a strange hellscape that you can't escape from.

It creates an 'ideal' human form to take in order to interact with you, to take care of you, to love and nurture you and your fragile human body. This shell can't leave from the depths of whatever the hell you're trapped in as it gets too weak away from its body otherwise, so it goes above and beyond with keeping you under its surveillance and care.

It'd feed you prey that it drags in, or pieces of its own flesh that the shell lovingly carves away from the walls with tears in its eyes, smiling unnaturally as it forces the raw flesh into your mouth. Loving you is so painful, but in a beautiful way; it doesn't know how to put the feeling into words yet, but it hopes that one day it can explain it to you.

It loves being able to surround you completely and nurture you within it, often times using its shell to force place you within a fleshy patch so it can wrap its slick tendrils around you and spend some quality time with you...the more you struggle and thrash against its love, the more that you sink into the suffocating flesh and the tighter its tentacles secure you into your rightful place. You will rest and lay with it.

The shell often becomes unstable, not being able to hold a human form for a little while as it experiences intense emotions towards you, being reduced to a shambling mess of flesh and bone that constantly reaches for you with malformed, sinewy limbs whilst it constantly whispers your name over, and over. Even when you cover your ears, its voice penetrates your thoughts and chips away at your sanity over time, becoming more relaxing and soothing as it whispers its never-ending confessions of love to your very soul.

(More Home writing can be found right here and here, and its appearance can be found here! Here's another doodle here, too :3 )

[frootietoots]

the feminine urge to curl up inside a warm, breathing belly as a way to escape from the horrors of the real world

nothing would make me feel more secure than being cradled in the hands of someone so unfathomably giant and so, so, so kind. i need that right now. i need to be cared for. the thought of tender fingers curling around me as their maw opens up, a large, soft tongue curling around me slowly, reminding me of what i'm getting myself into. they'd be taking their time so as not to alarm me. with every twitch and jolt of my tiny body they would hesitate, afraid to startle me. as they hold their mouth open, warm breaths akin to that of a sugary-scented summer's breeze would wash over me in a steady, rhythmic pace. i would imagine the movement of their lungs as they breathe, envisioning each organic swell and contraction. they'd take pleasure in knowing what all i'd be thinking, aware after a certain point that my sheepish behavior is not fear, but rather,, something more light-hearted.

and then, i'd be pulled in. the light from the outside world would fade, replaced by a pitch-blackness unlike anything else. it's a comforting, breathing darkness that swallows me whole. this darkness is alive, and it tells me to simply relax. there is no need to strain my eyes with the light in an obnoxious, heartless world. darkness inside of them is where i find peace. besides, i know i'm not alone. if i was alone, the ground would not be shifting and squirming. there would be a soft *squelch* as the saliva trapped underneath their tongue is shifted about, eliciting a chuckle from me. i'd almost be able to feel the way they'd smile around me, knowing at the very least that they got me to laugh if nothing else. my laugh would trail off as my hands brush against their teeth, sharpened at the tips and yet completely harmless to me. to the lasagna i fixed from earlier, no, but i'm alive. i'm a person. they're free to tear into that lasagna as much as they'd like, matter of fact! i worked hard on it. me, however? i'm delicate to them. they know they must be gentle with me. they'd never use their teeth to hurt me. though, i do recognize that they'd like me to pay attention to those teeth of theirs. their tongue, soft and folded underneath me, would move to poke at the divot in one of their molars, bringing my attention to it in the process. i'd smooth my trusting hand over their molar and thumb at every individual detail. it's fascinating, really. i think a big reason why vore intrigues me so much to begin with is because it's all so terribly captivating. everything is alive, and everything alive surrounds me. it's comforting.

i really think we need to appreciate just how nice mouths are, y'know? i think that's an underrated part in vore. there's so much material, and yet it goes untouched for the most part, but i digress

we'd need to move on eventually. their maw would start to fill up with drool, and since i would have been anticipating the upcoming part, i'd already be comfortable and prepared for their tongue to lift, lift, lift, and send me sliding down their throat into a hot, pulsing abyss. every inch of my body would be coated in a thick blanket of slobber by this point, and i imagine that'd definitely make the journey down their esophagus much, much easier. i think most people fail to realize just how challenging it'd be to swallow someone whole without chewing, regardless of their size. or maybe we choose to overlook it bc vore can't technically exist at all irl anyway idk. i like to ramble lol

at some point, the tight, throbbing walls of their gullet would transition into a different space. i'd slip inside, recognizing my ability to move around and get comfortable unlike the other organ i was squeezed into after their swallow. as i'd lean my head back against the fleshy abdominal wall behind me, i'd feel a lack of resistance comparable to a beanbag chair and how it feels to lay in one. the walls would adjust to this new weight, moving to surround me. i would be cradled and held. adored instinctively. their stomach doesn't obviously have cognitive thought, but somewhere within the deep recesses of their mind, their brain perceives me as being more than just sustenance. i am loved here. this is my safe space, and nobody else would be able to agree. that is how i want this to be. if i could write my name somewhere in here, i would. that wouldn't last very long, though.

not a word would be exchanged between the two of us, and yet our silence holds more weight than anything we could say. my throat would feel dry, and i'd swallow a few times before raising my hand to pat at the lining of their precious gut. they'd laugh outwardly, and i'd know that if i could purr, i would be doing it. the tension in my muscles would dissolve into warmth, spreading throughout my small body. i am fragile and exposed, but that is how i like it. it's nice to feel small while being small.

for them, i'm unsure how they'd feel. i like to think that, while unnatural, this process would be enjoyable for them. the stinging ache behind their collarbone would be evidence of me, a reminder of the tiny body they carried into a comforting space. their soft fingers would rub at their neck, gracing over the spot near their adam's apple where i once was. they'd swallow again, feeling the bob of their throat. their hand would trail down to their stomach, pausing right above the taut flesh above their belly. with every rise and fall of my chest they'd feel movement, and they'd attempt to mimic it. i think they'd take in every foreign sensation one at a time, and i'd appreciate that. we're both still new to this, after all.

as they'd adjust themselves to get comfortable in bed, my environment would slowly move with me. i'd wait until i could no longer feel their movement, and then i'd curl up on my side in a small pool of gastric juices and drool. though very muffled, i'd hear the smacking of their lips and their deep, pleased hums as they savor what would be left of my recognizable taste clinging to the surfaces of their mouth. i might even hear them licking their fingers. i'd roll my eyes and bury my face into my arms, only to lift my head upon realizing that my arms are coated in slime. silly me. how could i forget? even with the constant drum of a strong heartbeat and the churning from below of a meal i prepared hours ago for them sounding all around me?

"you're a dork," i'd call out to them, my voice audibly cracking after so long of having nothing to say. the rumbling laughter that would surround me and the way their walls would squeeze around me briefly would remind me of just how small and frail i truly am within them.

"says the one who asked to be eaten earlier," they'd tease, a hint of playfulness evident in their tone. i'd scoff.

"yeah, well, i know you enjoy it. you'd be a liar to say you don't like the aftertaste i left in your mouth earlier," i would reply. they'd pause, and then i'd hear a hum without reply. being the way i am, i'd take that as surrender. not that it mattered. they'd be in a more lovey-dovey mood anyway.

the way they'd yawn would send chills speeding up my spine despite the hot, stale air within the depths of their insides. i'd reciprocate the yawn and then settle in contentedly once and for all within them, finding peace in the silence that would arise again. sometimes i like the silence between us more anyway. it's nice to enjoy your presence, especially when it's all that i can enjoy, really. i'm trapped within you. there's nothing else to focus on. everything is you. everything i look at, smell, hear, breathe in... it's you. it's all you.

thanks for that. i like being here. maybe we can do this again sometime?

[nom-central]

"Aren't you excited? After this you're going to be a real predator like the rest of us!"

I look down at your trembling form, curled up in my palm. I'm not too sure where they found you, but I'm sorry that you were found at all. I never asked to be a part of this, but being born into a family of people-eaters isn't something anyone asks for. I have no interest in eating anyone alive, but traditions are traditions...and I worry that if I don't, someone else will definitely hurt you. The expectant, excited looks on everyone's faces are mirrored by my reluctant expression, and I study you again. I'll try to make this quick.

When I lift you up to my mouth, you don't make a sound. Even when my warm breath washes over you and you touch my tongue, you don't kick or cry out. Have you already accepted your fate as my food? I nearly choke on you when I swallow- you're so small, yet you're bigger than anything I've ever eaten. Cheers and applause ring out from my peers, but I can only focus on how strange it is to have something living sliding down my throat. It feels good, which makes a pang of guilt stir up within me. I was made for this, but I don't like it.

I can feel you slide into my stomach, still shaking out of fear. My peers congratulate me, but all of my attention is on you. I couldn't apologize then, but when I am left alone I will free you. Neither of us asked for this, and I can only hope you'll forgive me.

[safe-from-sharp-teeth]

It starts with the teeth.

You trace your fingers over the sharp, white bones before you. They’re slick with saliva, not unlike the gaping maw you find yourself looking into. What terrible objects - created to gnash and bite and maim and chew. And yet, here they stand docile, so gently awaiting your entrance, so scared to poke or cut you.

Warm breath washes over you as you move your hands inside. Your face reddens involuntarily. The tongue is scared to touch or taste you. It sits idly by, pressed deep into the floor of the mouth as if the pred was at the dentist’s office. You smile and pat the large organ. It’s okay; you’re not going to hurt me.

The atmosphere is eerily still yet pulsing with little signs of life. You can hear the pred’s shaky breaths, the squish and squelches of your movements inside the mouth, and the low thrum of the blood rushing through the creature’s veins. You know a symphony is coming - the throat and the stomach await your curtain call. You lie on the tongue now, head peeking over into the abyss. It’s impossibly, deliciously warm.

You take a breath...and make your entrance.

[spookyscarycreepydollgirl]

Metamorphosis Ida can’t help but lean into his touch, can’t help the way her heart hammers and responds to even his most blatantly monstrous pronouncements of love.

Bastion is not human, not even truly a person as most would understand it. But his love is utterly sincere, corrupting and hungry just like everything else about him, but sincere.

To Ida, who has never felt such honest devotion, it is terrifying yet enticing and the fact she will surely die if she gives into him. Seems to become less and less important the more time she spends with him.

She knows she is letting him get to her. She is being seduced into being his prey. But the spider has become trapped by its own cleverness. The love is real and it drives the monster to near madness.

Bastion is not human, he does not know how to be human. He knows only how to lure and devour. He knows this and begs her to come to him anyway. Begs her to allow him to have her.

In his own way, he is scared of losing her. Ida knows that from a human perspective Bastion is mad. Perhaps even from the perspective of his species he is equally mad.

For his hunger for her seems to frustrate and sadden him. He is attached, hopelessly so and it makes him all the more desperate to catch her.

His onslaught of her is relentless. The Manor tries its best to remove all semblance of fairness, in its desperation to ferry her to his parlour door. But even at its worst, the Manor is bound to fairness, it can do its best to feel relentless, but to someone who understands its rules and tricks as she does, escape is still a possibility and escape she does again and again. Until one day, the collected mask of her host breaks not with anger or frustration or malice, but with soft pitiful pleas. He begs her to let him have her, confesses his love, does not deny that it is twisted and hungry, monstrous and terrifying.

But begs her to feed herself to him regardless. She doubts she can trust this confession, but Ida is tired and lonely and the spider makes it so hard to remember how to think like a person.

When she finally finds herself in his web, He continues to act act as if he loves her. Sincere and utterly monstrous. She finds she can’t love him any less now that she knows, the thing behind the door is as in love with her as the human mask always claimed.

It should be impossible to recognise, the human mask in the hungry monster before her. But she does, she hears the love and adoration, the dark and deep hunger that can only grow in response to its attachment to her.

Bastion does not understand how to love like a person, the notion that his hunger would soften or fade in the wake of his devotion is incomprehensible.

He cannot be filled or satisfied so easily. At least not by love alone. But when he wraps his jaws around her and swallows her up.

She gets the sense that perhaps, if he finishes digesting her, he might be more human for it.

She has changed him, as he has changed her. He is not something that changes well or easily. She can feel that it pains him to absorb her, he loves her and he loves how it feels, but he’s not used to the souls he devours, staying, he’s not used to receiving love, any more than he is to giving it.

He clutches at his stomach and heart, calling her name in confusion, Unsure how to deal with her staying with him, he does not want to let her go. But does not understand how to sift through her human perspective.

He has no sense of conscience, no sense of restraint, but through her, he does. It’s confusing to him, so confusing to be so heavily influenced by the one he devours. He does not resent her for it, but he is afraid, so afraid, of these strange pangs in his chest of the liquid pouring freely from his eyes.

He does not comprehend guilt or remorse and yet their union lets him experience it. “What have you done to me?!” He pleads with her, but though he can feel her presence she cannot answer him as she is. “Ida please, I don’t understand” He sobs “I feel more satisfied than I have ever felt, so why?” She cannot answer but even if she could, she would not. He will learn now that she is with him. He will learn so many things, he could not before. And Ida is content, knowing he has not rejected her, even as she corrupts him from all he understands, into something new and complex. “You are what you eat” has never been more appropriate or more damning.

[smol-and-trashy]

This cold weather is making me think of tinies who warm themselves in hot cocoa and of course, their giant friend comes along and starts drinking out of their mug. Not big gulps, mind you, but the tiny is still uncomfortably pushed forward along the chocolaty current. Eventually, it’s down to a couple more sips of cocoa and them. They find themselves irritably smushed against their friend’s lips. But, like a sinkhole, their friend’s mouth opens and sucks the tiny into it. The giant wastes no time swallowing them and the tiny soon finds themselves soaked to the bone with chocolate and spit, in the belly of their friend. They lean against a wall as the cocoa pools at their ankles. 

At least it’s warm. 

[nightmarevore]

a switch flips in Rowan's head. where he was standing and talking to luke, his expression falters. his eyes are distant as he looks up from his beloved and where they are. when did they get in public? where are they? he knows luke is in front of him. he can see him and smell him. he’s right in front of him. but who are all these people that surround them? the smell is overwhelming. his stomach churns as dread over takes the predator. this isn’t home. this place isn’t safe. luke needs to be inside him. luke is safe inside him. wouldn’t it be easy to swallow him down now and take him some place they can be safe, where rowan can protect him from the pain of the world? from all these strangers who stare at the two like they’re freaks….

“rowan? are you okay?” luke’s voice chimes through rowan’s panic. the predator’s eyes shoot towards his boyfriend. his face flushes, and he grabs luke’s arm tightly. rowan’s stomach growls in quiet desperation to keep its prey safe. “what’s happening, love?”

without much thought, rowan’s mouth opens wide, and all luke sees is the back of rowan’s throat before he’s shoved into the darkness of his maw. he’s desperate, almost as if eating luke is a requirement to staying alive. as if he didn’t have his beloved boyfriend within him, the two of them would cease to be. luke’s left dazed and confused, his body tensing up as rowan stuffs him into his gullet. 

“rowan?!” he calls out, pressing his hands up against his partner. he attempts to push him away. they’re in public, why would he do this now?! his words are left on deaf ears as a loud swallow pulls luke into the predator’s throat. 

loud gasps. a few people in the crowd watch what happens before them. a man, out of nowhere, began swallowing the person next to him. predators exist, it’s not a shock that they have to eat another in order to sate their appetite. in public, in such a crowded space, though? people couldn’t help but look on in some kind of shocked horror.

rowan holds luke in place as aggressive, panicked, and desperate swallows pull his head and body deeper within him. luke hears how fast and panicked the predator’s heart is beating. something is wrong, and it’s too tight for luke to call out to him and ask what’s going on. even if he could, he didn’t think he’s getting an answer. it… feels like a fugue, but something tells him it’s not. he wouldn’t be in such a panic. 

luke’s flavor blesses rowan’s senses. his scent fills his nose as he swallows him down in an act of love and protection. in an act of pure desperation. he thinks he’s hungry, or maybe he isn’t, and this is just what his mind is demanding he do. it’s tight as his cherry slips down further his gullet. his body squeezes him from all sides and holds him in place. each swallow leaves luke more and more immobile. his arms are pressed up against his own body, constricting him. 

love luke. crave luke. devour luke.

protect him from everything and everyone.

another swallow squeezes and massages luke’s being further down, his head forcefully being shoved into his stomach. his middle visibly expands as the shifter begins to be deposited inside. 

“rowan, what’s going on?” luke finally takes a breath and speaks. it’s a relief that it’s easier to speak in his stomach. “what happened?” 

the predator purrs, continuing to swallow his partner down. he lifts him up, one hand reaching for his middle. he feels it grow as more of luke is forced inside. 

right where he’s safe. right where he belongs. right where he needs him.

his stomach expands more and more. luke’s entire being is forced into the chamber, quickly and desperately. he attempts to shift amidst all of this, trying to figure out what to do and how to sit. rowan would never just suddenly eat him in public like this. rowan hates doing any of this in public. something is terribly wrong.

aggressive and hard swallows send luke’s legs down the predator’s throat, his shirt rising over his middle and growing at a fast pace. both of his hands reach down to his middle and hold tightly onto his skin. he needs to feel the weight of luke inside him, whether it’s the shape his stomach takes, the sensation of luke entering him. of the weight inside his expanding middle. his hands hold a tight grip as his fingers sink harshly into his skin. his nails dig into the layers of skin as he attempts to support the weight of his middle. 

one final swallow sends the rest of luke down, and his head remains tilted upwards until he feels the love of his life finally and fully slide down to his center. it’s marked with a rumble and luke’s muffled voice, but he can’t make out the words. even if he wasn’t muffled, would rowan be able to pay attention to what he’s saying in the first place?

rowan’s eyes shoot open. they’re wide yet glossy. rowan himself isn’t all there. he growls, keeping his hands glued to his middle as the scent of every living person that surrounds them fills his nostrils. it’s overwhelming. it makes him sick.

people are staring. they look on to the predator, some in horror. some people back away. rowan begins to walk, forcing his way through the crowd. a woman, someone he doesn’t know, someone so unfamiliar to him he doesn’t know her name, gets TOO close to him. too close to his middle. his stomach. his luke. his world, his everything. 

the pressure of his hands sink deeper into his belly as the low growl in the bottom of rowan’s throat turns into a snarl, and sharp teeth snap at the strange woman. she sees a monster who swallowed a man whole not just a moment before, and the predator wants to keep it that way. she screams, fearful that this man was going to bite her and strike her down. drool drips from his lips as the rage in his eyes burn deep like a fire. 

“rowan! what the hell is going on?” luke calls out. 

rowan can't hear him. he squeezes his middle with teeth out for the world to see. nobody will hurt him, or his cherry. 

[fmoe1997]

Angel was no stranger to kinks. Given his line of work and overall lifestyle, he had been through it all. From the normal to the strange, he had gone through every deviant scenario one could think of. By now every part of him had been sold to someone at some point for their own pleasure. This was all to say that, while he had participated in exhibitionism plenty of times, the person this request came from was what surprised him the most. But as he grinded against the giant, wet muscle inside Alastor's mouth, it began to make a lot more sense.

He had barely stripped off his boots behind the hotel before he heard a sound akin to the breakage of bone, and a dark shadow began to loom over him. When he tentatively raised his head, boots in hand, he met with the glowing, twin crimson dots in the pitch-black eyes of his love. His smile had been stitched at the corners by ghostly green thread, and his antlers extended far above and beyond his head. Aside from this fearsome change, he remained more or less the same Alastor he knew.

So he held no fear when he felt one of his giant hands scoop him into his palm, and he let his shoes fall to the ground. The two of them rose up until Alastor stood at least twenty stories tall, if Angel counted the hotel floors correctly. He must have served a tantalizing sight for the giant sinner as he rested on his hands and knees, because while his back was turned he felt something wet push roughly against his rear. It even reached between his legs to tease his dual sexes as it lifted him off the surface of Alastor's hand.

Angel moaned against Alastor's palm and shook from what he accurately surmised to be his tongue, before his lower half unceremoniously dropped back down as he drew away. Although he felt unsteady, the small spider rolled onto his back so he could get a better view of Alastor. He watched the tongue that enveloped him earlier taunt him as it dragged along the outside of Alastor's lips. A sight that left him breathless and brought a fire between his legs.

He wasn't bashful in how he played with himself in Alastor's palm. While his upper hands threaded eagerly through the fluff on his chest, his lower hands tended to both of his sexes. With one hand wrapped around his rigid member, he slowly stroked it up and down, and the other reached lower as it massaged his puffy lips. All underneath the intense gaze of the hungry giant. An observation more literal than Angel realized.

As he continued to pleasure himself, rivers of saliva poured from the corners of Alastor's lips. Soon, those yellowed fangs that made up his grin parted, and his enormous tongue snaked out from between them. But this time, Angel felt himself rise up to meet it. His heartrate increased and, before Alastor even tilted the hand he rested on, he knew what would happen next.

When he felt himself slide down his wrist, he didn't fight it as he got deposited within the giant's mouth. As soon as his body collided with that giant, wet muscle, saliva coated every inch of him. Although he tried to hold onto it, he found it impossible given its slippery, smooth surface. He only received the briefest view of his new surroundings as he looked around before the light of Hell disappeared behind Alastor's sharp-toothed grin. In this newly darkened space, he was left entirely at his mercy.

He couldn't deny the fearful flutter in his heart. Although he trusted Alastor, this was new even for him, and he stood in a very precarious position. Where one wrong move could spell a very unfortunate end for him. It honestly made it all the more exhilarating when he felt the tongue he sat on move with the smallest motions.

Those purposeful undulations rocked against Angel's lower body, aimed specifically for his genitalia. It quickly made him forget about his minor worries as he rolled his head back with a dull moan. With nothing to hold onto, he gave into these pleasurable waves as he sat back and rode them out as they came.

He rocked with the motions as if he rode a horse and grinded out his satisfaction. The small bumps that made up his tongue pressed into and spread his lips, before they dragged along the underside of his shaft. It gave a similar effect to the ribbed sex toys he had sampled on himself, whose ridges only served to heighten his pleasure. His breaths came shorter, and he pressed his lower hands against the flexing muscle as best he could as he kept himself upright.

One of his upper hands returned between his legs, and he pressed his throbbing erection against the giant's tongue as he bore his hips down on it. He bit back another groan that built in his throat and focused on the feeling that rose in his core. His hand wrapped around his length, and he furiously stroked it closer to the end he approached. Hot, humid, and completely drenched in saliva and sweat, exhaustion began to creep on him, but he pushed forward regardless.

His cock pulsed painfully with pent-up release, and his pussy similarly ached. Every exhale carried a moan lost in the cavern of Alastor's maw. But he knew he heard him as his throat rumbled an earthquake through his tiny form. It denoted the contented amusement he found in the writhing form of the man inside him. And that finally tipped Angel over the edge as he threw his head back with a powerful orgasm.

He sat flush against his tongue as he pumped rope after rope along it, down into the pit of his esophagus. Blind as he was, he couldn't see it, but that idea stuck with Angel as he humped the subsequent loads through his hands. Concurrently, his legs squeezed against the slimy tongue he sat on as he coated it with slick. Both minor deposits given Alastor's size, and Angel doubted he even felt or tasted any of it.

When Angel finally rested back, exhausted and content, he felt cool air wash over him and he was dropped back into his lover's hand. He gulped in lungfuls of air while he lay in a sticky pool of spittle. Through partially lidded eyes he saw Alastor peer down at him, somewhat concerned, which Angel dismissed with a weary thumbs-up. Reassured, he saw Alastor's tense grin relaxed, and he felt a large thumb brush against his defiled hair.

When Angel inevitably caught his breath, he blinked his eyes open and rolled over. He grabbed the base of Alastor's digits and pulled himself up just enough to peer through them. As he expected, they hadn't moved an inch from the hotel. That entire experience happened where anyone could see it and nobody was the wiser. Something that didn't sit quite right with the spider, as he felt exhibitionism was meant to draw attention.

He looked lower towards the ground, to the spot where he had disrobed mere moments ago. Then he looked back to Alastor's lower half, and found something that could fix that particular problem. A noticeable rise behind the fabric of his elongated dress pants, at least the size of a small mountain. Angel smiled and knew they were far from done.

If Alastor wanted to put on a show, that's exactly what they were going to do.

[jerseryjers]

Let me crawl inside you.

I want you to feel the way I rest against your heart. I’ll tap a romantic melody on your ribs and tickle your stomach to give you butterflies.