thecrownpetone - Tumblr blog

[thecrownpetone]

okay, I think that’s all the important stuff that isn’t on any other blog

god I wish I had somewhere else to go.

[thecrownpetone]

Teasing

::Inspired by a string of teasing Dryicecubes did at me over Skype one night.::

I don’t write second person vore as often as I should…

Do enjoy~

*bows*

———————-

Your memory of what happened to get you where you are is a little fuzzy. You remember him coming up to you, talking to you about seeing him after class. Something about your grades and some kind of extra-credit assignment.

You remember him inviting you over to his house. Why you agreed at all is beyond you now; and that you can remember just how wrong his voice sounded makes you even more confused. He had sounded a little too eager to be talking about a simple assignment, much too eager.

You even remember bringing up that you were curious what kind of sheet work had him so excited - excited, you’d thought he was. Stupid of you, really. He’d told you it was something hands-on.

And now, you were sitting under a teacup. Under it. The last thing you remember is taking a drink from some tea he’d offered you, and then hurting all over. Now, you were trapped under the very teacup you’d drank from.

You shield your eyes as the teacup suddenly lifts, flooding your eyes with light and once more revealing the table you’d previously been sitting at. You’re on top of it, now, and already you know that something isn’t right - not that the teacup wasn’t clue enough.

Layton is huge. Or rather, you have shrunk. And your shock must show on your face because Layton suddenly laughs, picking you up by your collar before you can even think of running away.

Not that you’d get anywhere at this size.

“Hello, my dear~!” He purrs at you. There’s that voice again, worse this time because whatever idea he intends to enact is obviously going exactly as planned. “I suppose you’re wondering what happened, hm?” You’d yell at him if only you knew your voice would carry far enough. So instead you just nod, staring at him in mixed anger and fear.

What kind of ‘extra-credit’ involves shrinking one down to this size? Layton chuckled, and grins as he speaks.

“That tea I had you drink is a nameless one. The secret younger brother of a rather forbidden tea that a friend of mine… 'introduced’ me to in my youth.” He shifts, and you can’t help but cry out as you sway, swinging in his grip as he dangles you up so he can meet your gaze. “The 'Gourmands Guilty Pleasure’. A very rare brew. It’s brother; what I had you drink, even more so.” He shifts yet again, and you can’t help but notice how he’s bringing you ever-closer to his face.

It’s starting to hit you, why he’d want you so small. A 'gourmand’ is somebody who eats - or something to that effect. Somebody who takes pleasure in food.

“I’d prefer if you don’t struggle, initially.” He purrs at you, lifting you higher. You hang limply, hoping that he’s not actually about to do what you think he’s going to do. “But afterwards… do feel free to struggle as much as you like~” And then his mouth opens.

Oh god - he is going to eat you…!Layton once again shifts you, dangling you over his open mouth.

You can see down into his throat, the back of his mouth were it gets darker and changes directions - leading straight down into his body and god you didn’t think he’d meant this when he’d invited you over-!

He starts to lower you down, and you jerk in surprise, not expecting it. Just before you can struggle and maybe get free from his grip and this entire situation, he lets go of you - half dropping you into his mouth, half sucking you in.

You can feel his breath - he’s taking breaths in through his nose so he can keep his mouth shut, it seems, keep you trapped and unable to escape. For a moment, he plays with you, moving you around with his tongue and coating you in saliva. Fighting against his tongue only makes it worse - he presses it against you and pins you to the roof of his mouth, holding you still for several moments as he chuckles. He then grinds his tongue against you for just a few seconds before gravity shifts, and you find yourself slipping backwards.

Towards his throat, you realize.

It’s at this point that you come to your senses again and struggle to get to the front of his mouth, to try and escape and maybe get out but his tongue…! The thick muscle practically ruins your plan the moment you try to enact it, quickly guiding you back down towards his throat.

His throat that grabs your feet and pulls, and no amount of vicious scrambling does anything - you sink down, a thick, wet-sounding swallow signalling the start of your journey deeper. But then something presses against you from outside - halting your movement even though his esophagus is relentlessly pulsing against you and coating you in even more slime - it’s almost like a second skin by this point.

You know at once that it’s Layton. His fingers, pressed to his throat and holding you in place. The pressure grows, and soon all space is gone - you’re pressed deep into the muscle as it grinds against your body, instinctively fighting to get free and knowing that it’s just making things more fun for Layton; who is once again chuckling as though it’s some grand game. Like some brand new puzzle he’s on the verge of solving.

Then the pressure is relieved, and with another strained swallow from your captor you’re back on your way - once more sinking deeper inside of him. The throat pulsates against you as you slide down, guided by powerful muscles to what is no doubt going to be your new home, for however long you have left.

Eventually, something presses at your feet, and with a wet noise, you’re forced past it - coated in yet another layer of slime as you drop into someplace more open than Layton’s esophagus.

His stomach.

You’re only able to stand for a few moments before the entire room shifts, forcing you to drop back down and sit in a small pool of something you’d care not to name; stomach acids. Judging by the tingling, it’s already working on your clothes, but doesn’t seem to be effecting your body yet. Thankfully.

You shift, moving on hands and knees until you’re at the stomach wall, using it as support as you stand - and ram yourself against it hoping to make your captor ill. Anything, if it means you get free.

Outside, Layton revels in the sensations of your struggling, moaning as he feels your repeated impacts, feeling your every motion and loving each one of them. You can’t quite tell from where you are - but you’re only making things better for him. His stomach growls, and he begins to rub it - making you stumble back again and fall back down to the floor. Al of the stomach walls are shifting - there’s a dull light seeping in from outside and you can see his stomach lining moving. In and out, back and forth - just slightly.

“My dear, you tasted wonderful~!” He says loudly, enough for you to hear it past the layers of flesh between you. “and you’re struggled movements are divine~ But I’m afraid I’m still a bit hungry; I hope you don’t mind if I get something.” He plans on eating more. You doubt more people are going to join you.

Gravity shifts a few times before it eventually settles, and by now you half-way sunk into the lining of his stomach, unable to move for all the shifting the organ is doing on it’s own. Then, slowly, chewed up somethings begin to join you. You manage to press yourself against the stomach walls, away from the food being pushed in.

You have no desire to make any sort of contact with it - not that you’re given much choice; Layton burps quietly, decreasing the amount of space in his stomach and forcing you and the food together.

Once again his stomach groans - but loudly this time, and you can feel the stomach lining moving more drastically now - pulsating and massaging against you, working you from every angle and coating you in a disgusting mix of slime and masticated food. You can feel Layton rubbing at you from outside as well, adding to the movements and making you fight again as you try vainly to get everything to just stop.

It doesn’t work, and you’re repeatedly ground against by the soft, slimy, fleshy lining of Layton’s stomach. Eventually, once you realize that all of your fighting is getting you nowhere, you stop trying quite so hard.

Gravity shifts again - outside, Layton is sitting back on his couch, massaging his stomach as he feels it work, feeling you move about inside.

“Now…” He starts, still rubbing his gut and grinning widely. “the big question…” He leans into his couch. “Do I let you out~?”

[thecrownpetone]

Unnamed Vorefic 1

Felt like writing some more-or-less noncon vore, but couldn’t think of a good name, so…

Implied digestion, but… you can pretend they got out. Fic ends before it gets so far as cementing that the prey dies.

Involves the prey being shrunk down to a small size (about doll-size?) so… I think it’s Micro? Is that the right name? I think so, yeah…

A bit of NSFW. Or a fair amount. Not sure, really.

—————-

You never quite questioned why he’d seemed so keen on you. Why he’d wanted you to visit him after classes had finished - you thought you’d been doing well in his class; or at least well enough to not warrant staying after school.

Perhaps he just wanted your help with something. Maybe he just wanted to talk. And Professor Layton had always been a bit off. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d invited one of his students to talk with him these days - although you remember hearing stories that some students had been disappearing lately. Maybe he was just going to give you some sort of warning to be cautious before letting you be on your way? Or escort you, perhaps. Although it was still odd, since you definitely weren’t the only person in his archaeology class, last you checked. Which had been not half an hour ago.

It wasn’t possible that the Professor was the cause behind the disappearances though. It was Professor Layton-! Perfect gentleman and puzzle solver and most certainly not kidnapper.

You enter his office with a quiet greeting, following up with a question of why he wanted to see you since you’d wanted to get home as soon as possible - there were people going missing lately and you wanted to get home before it got too dark out.

There was a faint flicker of a darker sort of smile on the Professors face, you noticed, before it vanished. Just for the smallest of moments, he looked almost… intimidating.

“Ah-! There you are. My apologies; I don’t want to keep you too long but I’d hoped we could have a small chat…?” There. You see? You were right; he just wants to talk. Perhaps he’ll drive you home after, if it’s too late for you to walk home safely. Even if it isn’t, he’ll probably insist he drive you anyway. The Professor, you remember, is big on being a ‘proper gentleman’.

“You see…” He begins, standing from his desk and moving slowly towards you. His desk has what appears to be a thermos on it - an odd thing for him to have, really. It’s certainly not for tea, since he’s perfectly able to brew the drink anywhere he desires. Besides, it wouldn’t be like him to brew tea at home and store it in a thermos. Maybe it’s for his young friend, Luke?

“I would like your help with something.” Help? The Professor needed help? What with? What could he possibly need help with that he sees you as suitable aid?

You begin to bring up this question to him as he moves in close - oddly so - before something impacts with the back of your head; too soon after he’s slipped in behind you for you to have turned around to meet his gaze. You’re unconscious before you even hit the ground.

0o0o0o0

You wake up vaguely aware that you’re sitting on a couch, slowly becoming conscious of the fact that something is being eased down your throat - a liquid of some form that’s gliding down easily, especially since you can feel someones fingers massaging your throat, keeping your head tilted upwards to a degree, and rubbing gently, quietly coercing you into swallowing it. Confused and disoriented as you are, you allow yourself to keep drinking.

It has a fairly bitter taste. After a moment, the liquid seems to stop, and with a small noise of confusion you swallow what remains of it, down.

“Ahhh… There we go~” That sounds like the Professor. You groan again, forcing yourself to open your eyes and look at him. That darker look is in his eyes again. That way he’s looking at you that makes him appear much more intimidating than he should be.

And it almost seems as though he’s getting taller…? It’s after the neckline of your shirt passes over your face that you realize he isn’t getting taller - whatever he’s fed you is making you shrink, and fast. Almost in moments you’re buried in your own clothes, frantically trying to escape the many folds of your crumpled outfit - before everything shifts, and brightens as the Professor lifts your shirt up and frees you.

Without a word he reaches down, pinching your now very naked body between his fingers - you’re almost the size of a small action figure, if that - and lifting you up, up towards his face as he shifts your clothes and sits down on the couch himself.

For a moment his expression is flat, but then he grins, swiping his tongue across his lips. It occurs to you that perhaps your assumption about the Professor being the source behind the missing people might be wrong. And your assumption that he’d been kidnapping them.

You almost wish it had been something as simple as a kidnapping.

“I do apologize my dear. But do drop the spiel about how this isn’t very gentlemanly, hm?” He says, still sporting that slightly-mentally-unhinged grin of his. “I’m afraid we’re past that point, now aren’t we… Now then…down the hatch you go~” You’re too scared, at this point, to fight back. Too scared to do anything except watch, as he lifts you up higher into the air, watching him tilt his head back and angle his neck in such a way that his Adam’s apple presses against him from within. Slowly, almost teasingly, his mouth opens, drool clinging from his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

It hits you again that he intends to eat you, but after everything that’s just happened you still can’t bring yourself to fight back - can’t get yourself past the shock of what the Professor has been doing.

Gently, he lowers you, easing you into his mouth feet-first - his tongue tickling at the base of your legs as his breath drifts over you, warm and smelling faintly of tea. His tongue seems to drift between your legs, forcing you to part them as he continues to ease you down; you can feel it slithering up your feet, your thighs - and then it’s inside you. Or as best it can be, considering your current lack of size.

He seems perfectly content to wriggle his tongue around as he holds you still, which is unfortunate since with each movement he makes, you want to move as well - move against it and you can manage to move your lower half, struggling to match his movements as you coat yourself in slime with your struggles. He pulls away before bringing his tongue back - apparently enjoying what he’s doing to you. Although, you’ve forgotten, partly, where you are and what he plans to do, drowned somewhat in the pleasure of what’s happening now, in the pleasure of his tongue, thrashing against you as you yell in pleasure, bucking and grinding as best you can manage. Not that it’s doing anything for him, really.

Eventually you finish, panting, limp, and coated in slime, as he gently sucks the rest of you inside his mouth. Having shifted to settle beneath you, his tongue is squirming, silently lathering you in more slime but you don’t care because it feels good - and you still haven’t quite recalled where you are. Then, the wet, shifting tongue beneath you move upwards, and without a fight you slide back, your feet being taken by his throat as he quietly swallows, sucking you down halfway - although the sound is fairly loud to you, snapping you out of the pleasure-drenched haze you’d just been in.

With a yell, you begin to fight - not that it’s any use since with a second swallow you’re engulfed fully by his esophagus, wet, pulsing flesh sticking to your body as it works you down. You try to bring yourself to fight, though, surprised when you seem to catch on something - the wet flesh of his throat contracting against your body as it tries uselessly to move you.

You can hear the Professor choking.

His throat is grinding roughly against you, the Professor swallowing hard in his attempts to dislodge you and for a moment you’re filled with hope that he’ll have no option but to spit you out - when you feel his fingers working at you from outside, massaging against the lump in his throat and against you in turn; pressing you into the sticky wet flesh repeatedly until your body gives in of it’s own accord, and allows itself to resume sliding downwards. The feeling of his fingers against you from outside, slowly trails up your body as you ease down his throat, sinking past his collar and moving ever deeper inside of him.

You can both hear and feel the Professor gulping, aiding in your journey inside his throat - pushing you deeper and deeper, and deeper still. It isn’t long at all before the sounds of flesh contracting wetly around you is accompanied by the hollow whooshing of his lungs, a steady thumping in the background that you identify as his heartbeat.

Suddenly, your feet press against something, slowly pushing through what you assume to be the sphincter as your body is gradually squeezed into his hot, slowly shifting stomach.

As soon as you’re deposited, and laying shocked against the shifting stomach walls, the entire room moves, filled with a loud growling noise as it contracts once, twice, and settles before gurgling again. It seems his body already knows what it wants to do with you.

After a moment, you stand, moving around and trying desperately to find a way to force yourself back up into his throat - but not even the repeated, if not gentle, contractions of his stomach lift you high enough to properly reach the sphincter trapping you in here.

“Ohhh, you feel simply astounding inside me, my dear~” The Professor’s voice echoes, a bit muffled from the layers of flesh between you but no harder to understand. “Would you mind putting up a bit of a fight? I want to enjoy your every movement before I eventually digest you~” This comment enrages you somehow. Even though it’s what he wants you to do, you fight. You move and kick, and claw at his soft, slimy, fleshy insides, trying again and again to grip onto the stomach lining and tear, or bite, through it.

All it gets you is a series of moans as your captor - your predator - shifts again and again, making you stumble before falling back to the ever-convulsing floor of his stomach.

There’s the brief, faint sound of a zipper being undone before he speaks again.

“O-oooh, god, you’re acting as if you don’t want freedom~ Fight me! Struggle, kick punch, ssssquirm!” It occurs in your mind exactly what he’s no doubt doing, now, but it just makes you angry all over again how he’s enjoying how much danger you’re in. Again you thrash against him, gathering up what energy remains within you to tear at his stomach walls some more - trying desperately to ignore his moaning as you slam yourself into the walls of his stomach.

”O-oooooohohhhhhhhhh~~!!! Deeper! P-p-press d-deeper!!!” His response to your attempts to get free causes you to scream, focusing all your energy into fighting - slamming into the lining again and again as he moans, his heart racing somewhere above you, pounding rapidly as he does nothing but further enjoy every motion you make.

Your energy is fading, but still you attempt to make him sick - although the sudden pressure against his stomach from outside tells you he’s likely pressing back, now, in response to your slamming against his stomach. It just makes you try to hit back harder.

The room shifts and shakes rapidly as the Professor pleases himself, breaking you from your attempts to upset him as you tumble about. There’s a final loud moan as the Professor seems to finish, before everything finally settles down.

For several moments, there’s silence - or rather, a lack of your predator saying anything. Just his heart, lungs, and other organs working away in the background, the occasional gurgling of his stomach.

Then he yawns. You freeze, tumbling again as gravity swaps directions yet again - it feels as though he’s layed down, which would make sense of the yawn. Although it doesn’t bode well, since you’re still trapped in his stomach.

His stomach which is shifting just slightly, up and down, in and out - contracting regularly now as slime drips down the walls. The Professors breath gradually slows down, to the point where you know that he’s fallen asleep and nothing you do, no amount of struggling, seems to rouse him.

His stomach gurgles again - ominously loud, and much more so than any of the others you’ve heard so far. At the same time, the air is getting harder to breath - thinner. There’s only so much in here, you remember, recalling your fast-paced and panicked breathing as you fought to make him ill earlier.

His stomach is slowly filling with the slime dripping from the walls; where at first it was just around your feet, it’s now at your hips, and steadily rising, sloshing as his stomach begins to contract harder and faster around you.

With a panicked, terrified noise, you resume pushing desperately at the contracting walls of his stomach, hoping uselessly that something would make him ill.

But the Professor doesn’t wake, and regardless of what you do, the slime continues to rise higher and higher…

[thecrownpetone]

OLD MonsterClive fic 3

Surprise fic for a friend of mine. The same one that rEALLY LIKES THEM SOME MONSTER CLIVE so yeah. Vore, digestion, gore, Bill Hawks pain, death, lots of fun stuff.

Monster Clive’s origins continue to go unexplained.

Also, I can’t write Bil Hawks to save my life.

*Attempts at continuity*

————————————————–

Breaking into Hawks’ house had been easy - surprisingly so considering everything the man had done. And the fact that ‘Clive Dove is free’ should’ve been in the news by now. It didn’t matter to him though, merely made his job easier.

It was night, too, so the likelyhood of him getting caught was extremely low. His prey was most likely to be asleep. Good~

He was certain that Emmy had spread word of him, too, which made him wonder if there was a trap here - or if she hadn’t spread word of him, and if he was about to get another easy meal - or two, both Hawks and his wife were home. Sure, the woman hadn’t done anything to him exactly, but he didn’t want any other witnesses about than Emmy - so a meal, she’d become.

Besides, what better way to torture Hawks before his death than by having him find out his wife had been eaten by the person whose life he’d ruined?

Slowly, he crept through the house - he didn’t know where Hawks and his wife slept, or if they slept in the same bed or not. Wait-! He hid for a moment upon seeing alight. Only one, coming from the kitchen. Someone was up? Hopefully just a single person. If both of them were awake, that would be bad. He didn’t want to fight anybody, certainly not two people, where one could distract him while the other called the police.

He didn’t want attention brought to him quite yet.

He made absolutely certain that his footsteps were as silent as possible, moving slowly towards the light and the person making it. Hawks wife. Good~ If Bill was upstairs asleep, and his wife was down here? That was good. Very good, his plan could move ahead perfectly.

Somehow, he managed to sneak up behind her - grabbing her from behind and covering her mouth before she could make a sound.

“Sorry, but you’re a loose end that I can’t risk leaving behind.” He whispered, before snapping her neck. He would’ve preferred her to have been alive while he ate her, but even if he’d injected his venom into her, she still would have made noise. And for this to work, there couldn’t be any noise at all.

Bill had to stay unaware of what was going on on the floor below him.

A few moments were taken to gaze at the woman - taking in her appearance - before his stomach growled it’s hunger to him, and he grinned. She’d be joining the rest of the people he’d eaten, soon. Without a word, he began his meal.

She wasn’t terribly big - clearly she ate enough, but not to excess. The lack of meat somewhat disappointed him, but she was tasty enough to make him pleased still that he’d chosen to eat her instead of let her go.

As he worked, he could feel his stomach stretching out to accommodate the amount of meat he was taking in - a feeling he’d not had since he’d eaten that bunch of men at Scotland Yard a few days past.

Eventually, he had all of her eaten - and the excess gulped down to dispose of the body. His stomach growled still, and he smiled again, rubbing his stomach. He’d wait here.

Bill had to come downstairs eventually, and he’d eat the man then.

o0o0o0o

Morning came quickly enough - Clive had lounged on Hawks’ couch, waiting the night out until Bill came downstairs. And eventually, come, he did.

“Wh-what? What are you doing here?!” Bill yelled. “You’re supposed to be in Prison!” Clive chuckled, a hand on his gut.

“Didn’t you hear? I got let out on good behavior~” And then came the realization - Clive was covered in, and surrounded by, blood. A great excess of blood. And Bill’s wife was nowhere to be seen.

A look of veiled terror came onto Bills face as he spoke.

“Where’s my wife? What have you done with her?” At this, Clive stood. The door was behind him - or at least in that direction - so Bill would have no choice but to move towards Clive if he wanted to leave.

As expected, Bill moved away from Clive as the boy drew closer - but eventually, a wall blocked his path, so he had no choice but to be closed in on by a bloody Clive, groaning stomach uncomfortably close.

“Can’t you hear her?” Clive said amusedly. “I caught her awake last night, but I had to send away, since she would have interfered with this talk we’re having. She’s with Layton now, and they’re having a grand time, don’t worry.” A particularly loud digestive sound came from Clive’s stomach, and his grin widened. “See? She’s having lots of fun~” Bill said nothing, his face whitening drastically at what had been implied.

“…You’re mad…!” Was the only response before Clive shoved Bill to the floor.

“Oh, now that’s rude. I think I’m going to have to punish you for that.” He held the man down, taking joy in seeing Bill struggle to overpower him. “I think I’ll have to give you a time out - oh!” A wide, sharp-toothed grin. “But I think I should let you see your wife first, yes? Don’t worry. This won’t hurt~” He didn’t want to tear into Bill.

Perhaps he’d do to Bill, what he did to Layton. Yes… Yes, that sounded delightful~

Clive shifted Bill’s position, pulling him up off the floor just enough, drawing in close and shivering with glee at the panicked confusion as the man’s head and hands were shoved whole into Clive’s mouth. A swallow - and then came protests, and struggling. This would be much more difficult than Layton. But it would feel just as good if he pulled it off.

Quickly, he freed his hands to grab Bill’s legs - biting down slightly on Bills shoulderblades to hold him for just a moment before releasing the bite and shoving Bill in deeper, using the man’s legs as a lever to get him inside faster.

The man still struggled, but as it was now he was hip-deep in Clive’s throat, and no amount of wriggling would do anything beyond make him sink deeper, faster. The man didn’t seem to realized it didn’t help, either - he continued to wriggle and fight, sliding deeper and deeper with ever jerk and twist he made, until a single, finishing gulp pulled the man’s feet inside and sealed his doom.

A wet gurgling noise accompanied the sensation of Bill being sucked down and fully entrapped within the churning, meat-filled gut. Clive could hear Bill yelling, screaming partly in terror and partly in anger. He could make out a few threats of what Bill would do to him if he didn’t let him go, which made Clive laugh as he settled back down on the couch, gut sloshing and gurgling with ever movement he and the occupant of his gut made.

“You won’t be able to do anything~” He remarked, rubbing circles across his distended stomach and groaning when Bill jerked about, protesting the sensation. “You’re stuck down there. I did promise that I’d let you see your wife - and it would be terribly rude of me to rob Layton of another dinner guest. You’ll have to stay down there until Layton says you’re ready to come out.” His stomach groaned, gurgling for a moment before settling. “Aww… It looks like he says you have to stay longer. Don’t worry - I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun. I’ll stay here, and make sure you don’t have any people coming over. If you do, I’ll make sure they know exactly where you’ve gone. It’ll-” A knock at the door.

“What’s this? Sounds like you’re about to have to make room for another guest, Mr. Hawks~” Muffled sounds of Bill trying to warn whoever was at the door and vague pushes in his gut that were clearly Bill trying to agitate him. “You seem really eager to see them - alright then, Bill. I’ll make sure to send them right down~” His stomach groaned as he stood up, and slowly made his way to the door.

Three meals in one day? Today was coming to a wonderful start. But who to devour next? Ah well. He’d worry about that once he was finished here - his stomach was groaning and gurgling, and there was no way he’d rob his stomach of another guest~

[thecrownpetone]

OLD MonsterClive fic 2

ALRIGHTY. Finally another fic from me. THIS ONE has… very little of much in it, honestly. A whole shitton of exposition, and then a ton of vore and gore refs. Still self-indulgant and without explanation as to wHATEVER THE FUCK CLIVE IS beyond CLEARLY NOT HUMAN, but hopefully it’ll be a nice read all the same.

It’s largely from Emmy’s point of view, and is a followup to the last fic where Clive ate Layton and gang.

I might make another if another idea pops up. Although to be honest this and the last one were spawned from a friend of mine, so I really can’t take much credit beyond that of turning a skype convo into Fic.

I hope it is enjoyable~!

———————————

1.

She hadn’t believed it when she’d seen the article. Had instantly and immediately denied the happening fully and without doubt. There was absolutely no way, she’d thought, that Professor Layton would snap so far as to kill his two charges and hide the bodies before running away. His mind was not so fragile that something would make him snap so completely - if anything, he’d sooner drag the children down the rabbit hole with him, or have them sent away, rather than killing them outright.

Killing, was not in Layton’s MO. Not even if he lost his mind completely could Emmy see Layton doing any killing at all.

The article claimed that past guilt and present stress had likely combined and he’d snapped enough to do some damage, potentially coming back to himself after the fact and hiding everything when he realized the gravity of the situation. Layton was missing, it claimed, and that there were no bodies found at present, just some bloody sheets shoved into a closet. That in itself, she took as reason enough to believe Layton wouldn’t do it.

If Hershel wanted to kill somebody - he never would, but if - there was no way he would have done it so sloppy. The man could make you think you had the upper hand and play it that way for days before swooping in from underneath and tearing it all apart in moments. Layton was too intelligent to be so sloppy.

So, she’d dropped what she was doing, apologized to her current boss, and said that there was a pressing matter in London that she needed to attend to at once - and set off on her way.

—

2.

Clive was there. Emmy had been paying attention to the news coming out from London; Clive who had attempted a violent destruction of London out of some mutated need for revenge of what had been done to his family by Bill Hawks greed many years prior. Apparently, Clive had been the last person to be in Layton’s home, to be near Layton and in his presence before everything had gone so belly up. She didn’t recognise the other man there, though. Some Scotland Yard investigator who though this case right up his alley. She wondered how much work she and Clive would end up doing by themselves.

Interestingly enough, the policemen who interacted with Clive seemed to believe him to have just nearly missed being part of some grand tragedy again, but her own fervent belief that something was missing here meant she didn’t believe that either.

The likelyhood of Clive knowing something and merely not saying it, in her mind, was too high.

He seemed amused by something, too. Working alongside Targent for so long meant she could see it in his face; could read from him a veiled amusement and desire to burst out into laughter. Why? Perhaps the sudden change in treatment, combined with the scenario, was getting to him?

Who knew. She’d have to be wary, though. Something wasn’t right, she could feel it.

3.

Emmy had largely taken to ignoring the investigator. He was good, she’d give him that, but he seemed fixed on connecting the dots in a fashion that proved Layton as the suspect, which Emmy could not believe was the case. Clive clearly knew very little, telling of how Layton had been acting normal enough the last few days he’d been there, and how Clive himself had gone out for a walk to find all three missing.

She didn’t believe him.

Nevertheless, she’d decided to go and investigate the Layton manor on her own terms. Less an actual manor and more a normal, two story home, she wasn’t sure if it was Luke or herself that had playfully called it that first.

First, Flora’s room. She had been long gone by the time Layton had taken Flora in, but she’d read the articles and put various pieces together.

The blood in her room was… strange. It was as though Flora hadn’t moved. As though she’d sat still for a while before suddenly moving to the floor, and then it stopped. Certainly, she could have been drugged and carried, but still. Layton was, again, not a dumb man, not by and stretch of the word. How could somebody have come in and drugged her? Had they gone after Layton first?

Luke’s was much more different, as though he’d been very aware of the person after him. Spatters all over the place, in a pattern that suggested he’d fought back.

Layton’s room, however, was near spotless. A drop or two of blood on the floor, but otherwise perfectly clean. Something wasn’t right. What had happened here…?

4.

Clive was acting suspicious. For a while, he’d acted like a victim, or a near-one, should logically act, and she’d briefly wondered for a day if perhaps Layton had done it, if he really had been hiding that kind of instability from people. If something had happened that day to make him snap, if the children had been the cause and if he’d run off in a panic of killing his own adopted daughter, and the son of his best friend from college. She considered working with the investigator to see how well the facts aligned with Layton as the suspect.

But Clive had set off one of her alarms.

He’d gone back to hiding amusement. As though he knew something that could turn the case on it’s head and was having an absolute blast keeping it to himself.

So she paused, and thought.

Clive had been the very last person to see the Professor, and claimed the man had been acting normally. Apparently he’d been gone when Clive got back. live had also claimed he hadn’t been gone long, which she was going to assume wouldn’t have been long enough for Layton, had he been the suspect, to do anything substantial.

Clive knew more than he was letting on. He had to.

5.

Clive, Emmy had decided, was lying about everything. Perhaps some of it was true, but the important parts had to be a lie. He was the only person they hadn’t looked at as a suspect, and she couldn’t even figure out why. everybody she asked seemed baffled by the notion that maybe Clive had something to do with it, shrugging it off and claiming how nice of a man he was.

It was unnerving how similar the statements tended to be.

She closed in on him after one of the meetings, not giving him a chance to speak - waiting until she had just the right moment before knocking him out. Something about him had been off-kilter for the whole investigation. From the beginning he’d acted as though something was a grand joke that he wasn’t supposed to reveal, and he almost reveled in how people had started to treat him.

If he wasn’t the killer, if she was wrong about this, then he most certainly had participated in the killing.

Emmy tied him up in a chair, stood back, and waited. She wouldn’t stop until she had her answers.

6.

When Clive woke up, he grinned. Almost immediately he grinned, which unnerved Emmy - had he known what she’d been planning? If so, how? Or had he simply expected it, and been wondering when she was going to act? She hoped the ropes would be enough to keep him still.

“I almost thought I had you like the others.” He said. Others? What others?

“Do you mean the people that treat you like some poor injured victim? Those people?” He nodded, stilling grinning unnervingly.

“Yes. It’s amazing what a little mental suggestion will do when they already think you nearly got killed.” What was he even talking about, she wondered? Clearly, though, he wasn’t about to deny having done anything, if the way he was talking was any hint.

“None of those people out there know the truth, do they.” She stated. Not a question, there was no point, not with the way Clive was grinning at her. Grinning like Descole when Layton had figured out all his plans, but before he’d stopped them.

“No. The investigator was simple to sway, he already wanted to believe Layton did it. Has a bit of journalist in him, thinks Layton going mad and killing everyone would make a fantastic news story.”

“But Layton didn’t do it.” Another statement. “I think you did. I haven’t figured out why, yet, but I think that when Layton took you in, for what reason you had, you took advantage of the situation and…” A pause, a gulp when she realized what he’d most likely done. “and you killed him. And Luke, and the girl Flora. You hid the bodies, and darted off to make yourself and alibi before anyone knew anything was wrong. But you didn’t expect me to get involved, did you?” Clive was still grinning at her. She’d gotten something in there wrong.

Then Clive started laughing. It started small at first, amused laughter like somebody telling a good joke, then it grew - louder and louder until it sounded to be coming from a madman.

“Oh, and you were so close, too~!” He sang, leaning back in the chair as though he wasn’t tied to it. “You got where wrong. Where the bodies. Here, I’ll give you a hint, and it’s a really good one-”And he then leaned forwards, and almost pointedly licked his lips, making a sound as though he’d eaten something delicious.

…Oh, god. He’d…

Her thoughts must’ve shown on her face, because Clive laughed again, and nodded.

“There we go, you’ve got in now, don’t you?” Then, to her horror, he stood. Snapped the roped like they weren’t even there and simply stood up, striding towards her. Emmy, shocked now, moved back until she hit a wall - Clive kept walking until he was standing right in front of her. “I only meant to take Flora, at first.” He said. “Layton and Luke weren’t part of the plan. I’ve got this… chemical, that I can inject into people, turns pain into pleasure. All it took was a while of rousing her desires, and I had her. A blindfold to keep her from seeing, and little poke, and she was all mine. As delicious as her name implied.”

He moved back, now, pacing back and forth before her. Emmy herself was frozen with shock - he’d eaten them. He’d eaten them alive not stabbed them and hidden the bodies.

“Luke had the misfortune of stumbling onto me while I was finishing up my meal. I’d initially intended on taking Flora, and leaving. Maybe setting up a grand puzzle for Layton and eating him then. But Luke ruined the whole thing - couldn’t stick him with any of the chemicals. Poor child had to feel it all, but I muffled him before I started. Wouldn’t do with any neighbors checking in. And before you ask, Layton was out. He had a lecture that ran late. All I had to do was make some mock-ups of the two kids in bed, and he was happy.

Tired, too, he dropped off without checking beyond the doorway. Tried out a new trick with him and swallowed him whole - turns out my stomach makes an absolutely wonderful bed~! All it took was a bit of movement and he was so comfortable that he never wanted to leave~! I sent him down some guests a few hours later though, it was teatime and it wouldn’t do to refuse him any guests. He must be a wonderful entertainer, they stayed down there and haven’t left since. I think they got tired though, because after a while they settled down so nicely, that I simply couldn’t bear to make them leave~” He shifted, moving to rub his stomach, grinning pleasantly.

Emmy still wasn’t moving. Her mind was paralyzed with fear - Clive had eaten them, and whole, no less? What was he? He’d swallowed Layton whole and alive, he claimed, and broken through the ropes like they weren’t even there. Whatever Clive was, Emmy was beginning to suspect that it wasn’t human.

“I’m not about to take you, though. Think I’ll leave you here, for a bit. It’d be nice to have one person know the truth. I’ll be able to have dinner guests some day~! And you’ll be the guest of honor, I bet.” He was stopped by his own stomach, growling wetly and punctuating the man’s monologue almost as though he’d planned it. “Oh, would you look at that… I think your dear old professor wants some more guests-!” Another rub at his stomach. “I’m afraid Emmy’s busy, she won’t be able to visit yet. Later, maybe.” Clive turned back to her. “Sorry. I need to head out. I have some evidence to get rid of, and I think that lead investigator really should meet your dear professor. Let him do an interview~” Another growl from his stomach, and Clive moved, patting it twice before rubbing it. “Your professor is really impatient - I need to catch that investigator before he leaves. I’ve a sneaking suspicion that he makes really good food~”

And Clive turned, gut rumbling ominously, and left. For a moment, Emmy wanted to chase after him, but managed to reign herself in.

This was beyond her league. Right now, Clive would probably be able to overpower her in some way. She wanted to avenge Layton, Flora, and Luke, but right now… Right now she had to make herself scarce before Clive changed his mind. She had to come back with a plan.

She darted out of the building leaving the wet, violent sounds of frantic, excited feeding behind her.

[thecrownpetone]

OLD MonsterClive fic 1

((Contains mostly a whole lotta gore and a bit of soft vore. And a tad of hypnotic seduction? It’s weird, alright?

Anyways, idea spawned from a long rambly chat I had with a friend over Skype, who likes them some monster Clives and gore.

As per usual with me, set vaguely in the professor Layton world. Yes I know there are no explanations for why Clive is the way he is but this is largely self-indulgent, so I feel explanations aren’t really needed since this fic is more for me (and my friend Andy) than for the entertainment of the minor masses))

————————————————————-

Keeping his true nature hidden from everybody had been hard. The jail time hadn’t been a part of his plan - which had initially ended in him devouring Layton and his friends - but the way things had developed he’d had no choice but to go along and let things play as they did. Clive had thought his life would turn into one of being locked into prison and occasionally eating whatever cellmates the guards saw fit to send his way, but then - Layton returned.

Wished to help Clive out, he’d said. The guards had clearly thought Layton a madman for wanting anything to do with the maneater in their midst - not that anybody but them knew about it - but wanting as little to do with the cannibal as possible, they’d let Layton do whatever he wanted with Clive. The less prisoners he ate, the better.

Among various abilities he had was a manner of ‘suggestion’. He found it worked better on females than males, and so as soon as he’d gotten to Layton’s house he began work on Flora. Not too quickly, of course. Didn’t want to arouse any suspicion. She already had something in her heart that was fixed on him, though, so encouraging it to swell and grow into an obsession would be no problem at all. She’d make a lovely meal, when the time and chance came.

Luke, of course, was as stubborn as ever and very obstinate when Clive was brought there. He’d deal with the boy later. Luke wasn’t much of a challenge, so devouring him would be simple.

Layton however, would take some planning. The man was smart, and if Clive let up his facade even a little bit the man would know right away. When he ate these three, he would have to do it either very carefully, or in rapid succession.

o0o0o

He’d been there for weeks before the chance arose. Flora’s curiosity about him had slowly been cultivated into something of a grand lust - not that she’d be able to tell it apart from love at the age she was, so it was no concern to him. Luke, of course, was unchanged. That, as well, didn’t matter.

But Layton had grown to trust him over the time he’d been there. And he’d left Clive in charge of the two children while he left on a dig for the weekend - apparently Delmona hadn’t given him many options, and not being allowed to bring the children along with him he’d left them under Clive’s care.

Perfect.

o0o0o

Midway through the first day alone with them, Flora came up to his room. He’d been expecting her to ‘boil over’ so to speak, very soon, and that she’d sought him out on her own was a good sign. She seemed a bit nervous, embarrassed - red faced and a bit distracted.

Convincing her to let him ‘help’ her was the hardest part. When she let him put the blindfold on, he knew he’d hooked her.

“It’ll hurt for just a moment.” He told her. She was scared, nervous. ”You’re still young, so don’t worry - we won’t be doing anything very big.” How old was she again? Underaged, he imagined. Better to let her think they’d be doing only ‘safe’ things, make her more willing to let him do as he pleased.

It wouldn’t do to have his meal run away from him before he could eat it.

Only the first bite would hurt - this first one was to inject a sort of venom into her - a fast-acting chemical of some kind that interfered with the brains ability to properly translate pain. Instead, it was all translated as pleasure. And so the deeper the pain, the deeper the pleasure.

Clive went gently at first - small, skin breaking bites just to test the waters - and much to his delight, Flora responded positively. So, slowly he began to consume her. Nips and nibbles here, bites there. She was bleeding, but thanks to his ‘venom’ - and the blindfold - she didn’t realize it. To her, he was doing something that was making her feel absolutely amazing. So making him stop was not really on her mind.

He’d had to move quickly, he knew. Luke was here too, and if he caught them too early, he’d panic and it’d be just as Layton finding out because Luke would immediately get Layton on the phone after running away to Scotland Yard for safety. He doubted Flora would care that he’d gone quickly, by the end of things.

There was blood coating his shirt - and hers, frankly. The noises she was making were clear indicators of being in deep enjoyment, so he didn’t slow down - tearing strips and swallowing them down, moving rapidly to devour all of her. She no longer even seemed to care that he was moving her clothes around so he could get at her torso.

If she noticed that she couldn’t move her extremities without a grand amount of effort, she certainly didn’t care to tell him about it.

Finally, after what felt like forever to him, he stopped. She wasn’t gone yet, not fully, but he knew she was rapidly heading there. Blood loss and the vast amount of damage he’d done to her guaranteed it. Clive shifted, pulling her so that her head sat on his now swollen stomach - full of Floras own meat, not that she would know.

It made her laugh, the softness of his gut, the gurgling noises it was making. He needed to eat less, she said. He responded with he was afraid he liked eating too much to stop. She could cook something for him, she said then, sounding profoundly tired. His stomach gurgled loudly, making her giggle tiredly, as he responded by saying he was sure she’d taste absolutely lovely. The last thing she said before the injuries he’d inflicted on took their toll was how he’d meant to say that her food would taste good, yes.

After she was fully gone, he set to work devouring the rest of her. Clive had taken care not to break any bones while she was alive - the noise she’d make from it would’ve been too loud. Not that it seemed to have mattered, since right as he finished gulping down the last of her - her arms, bloody and missing chunks here and there - Luke walked in.

He stared, expression shifting to one of abject horror, before turning and running. Being smaller than Clive, however, he could not outrun him.

Clive managed to get in front of Luke, blocking the front door. He herded Luke up the stairs, around the house and into the boy’s room. Luke’s door, however, had no locks - only Layton’s office did and it was only rarely locked - so all it took was a turn of the knob and he was in.

Luke was clever, though, leaping at Clive with a bat in his hands. Not that it did much, since Clive had been attacked in much more complex ways - really, this attack was so obvious a move to make! - he easily danced around the attack and scooped Luke up into his arms. A kick to the door shut it with a slam, and he quickly set to work on his dessert.

He’d always wanted to know how Luke tasted.

o0o0o

By the time Layton returned home, Clive’d had the opportunity to change the kids bedsheets, and his own clothes. His gut was still swollen from his two meals, so heading up to his own room and pretending to sleep - back facing the door - was the only way he could think of to effectively keep Layton off him for now.

A note that the kids were already in bed - since Layton had been scheduled to come back late, it worked to his advantage - and some carefully constructed mannequins to fool the man long enough to get him to go to bed himself, made things go just smoothly enough that his plan continued on perfectly.

Layton was clearly exhausted, because it sounded as though he wasted no time lingering at the children’s doors - a body shape must’ve been all he was looking for before Clive heard a sound that clearly indicated Layton had gone to bed himself. He waited for a while, nearly two hours, before finally getting up to make his final move.

He wanted to try something new with Layton…

o0o0o

The soft, regular sounds of breathing told Clive that Layton had indeed gone to sleep - and wasn’t faking. He snuck in, creeping closer until he was standing over Layton. The amount of care he took in pulling the sheets off the man was massive - several times the man nearly woke up, but eventually he had Layton in the open - nice and ready to eat.

He wanted to try swallowing a meal whole, tonight.

Oh-so-carefully he took the man’s feet into his mouth.Layton seemed to have been entirely too exhausted, because as Clive gulped him down, the man didn’t move.

It hurt. Oh gods, how it hurt. But with Layton sunk in to his waist, there was no way Clive was going to relent now. He knew he could take the man in, pack him into his stomach and let him join with Flora and Luke, but he’d never actually eaten anyone whole before.

Gulp after wet, pained gulp, Hershel sank in further. Head and arms were soon the only things remaining in the open air - Clive rubbed his stomach where Layton’s legs and waist were now residing, gently guiding the man’s head down into his throat. Hershel struggled sleepily when he was deprived of air for the few moments his head was in Clive’s throat, but soon relaxed again once the rest of his body was deposited into his final resting place. Hands trailed down his esophagus as he swallowed them down, and with a pained, but thoroughly pleased sigh, he moved, taking Layton’s place on the man’s bed and laying down - hands on his delightfully full, gurgling stomach.

He’d done it - he’d taken the man down whole and alive, and now that the deed was done the pain was being replaced by pleasure. He was amazingly full now, with Flora and Luke’s meat dissolving away, and now Layton joining them in his digestive tract.

Layton woke up barely a few minutes afterwards, to the sensation of Clive massaging his stomach, and by extension, Layton himself. The man yelled, struggled, fought panickedly as he realized with horror what had happened - not that he’d understand why or how it had happened, just that it had.

The man’s first words were drowned out with a loud, hungry gurgling and glorping noise as Clive‘s stomach began it’s work, but the rest was clear.

He’d demanded to know what was going on, where he was.

“You don’t know? You’re in my belly.” Clive said, continuing to massage his swollen gut.

“Clive?! How could you do this - why would - what will Luke and Flora think of you if you go through with this?!” The comment made him laugh, pausing in his rubbing.

“Not much, I think!” He said through the laughter. “Why not ask them? They’re in there with you - or whats left of them, anyways~” Clive ignored Layton’s responses, which were full of various amount of disgust, horror, fear, and other things of the like. “They tasted so good~ I’m surprised you didn’t take a taste yourself before now. And Flora was so eager for it, too; nearly jumped down my throat.” Layton’s struggles grew harder - it hurt, but Clive made sure to hold steady.

To quiet the man, Clive resumed massaging his gut, causing his to grumble and growl, contracting around it’s contents and forcing Layton to stop talking, his previous enraged words changing to a rough grunting as he fought the fleshy walls around him.

“You were such an easy meal, too.” Hands tracing Layton’s form within him. “So cooperative. I wonder if that big brain of yours can help you out of this puzzle, hm? And here’s one for you while you try and think of that answer; how long does it take the human body to be affected by stomach acids? Really though, you were delicious… So filling - kind of tiring to eat. I might take a nap, now, if you don’t mind…” Laying back on Layton’s bed, with the struggles and muffled, enraged complaints of the very man within him, Clive drifted off to sleep, his stomach gurgling and churning as it worked on it’s newest meal.

Perhaps he’d go back to the prison and work on the guards there, afterwards.

o0o0o

It was just a few days later that he saw it - a poster, tacked up onto a wall. Wanted for possible murder. And where he expected to see his own face, he instead saw none other than Layton’s. The bedsheets, he realized - the sheets that he’d shoved into the closet that were both covered in the childrens blood - upon the sudden silence of the Layton household, somebody must’ve investigated.

With Layton’s room being almost perfectly untouched where signs of a struggle were concerned, the Yard must’ve connected what few dots they have and assumed Layton had killed them all. And there was blood in Clives own room, too, he recalled. Blood from his meals that he’d failed to clean up because he’d been too tired for it.

It made him laugh, loud and hard. Layton, wanted for murder. The irony of it! He patted his stomach, still engorged and swollen with what remained of Layton - who had put up a good fight and lasted until a few hours past the morning, when he’d succumbed to a lack of air - and his two assistants.

“They’ll never find you~!” He said to his unresponsive stomach. “You picked the best hiding spot ever - I don’t think the Yard will ever find you here.” Clive rubbed his gut happily. “But you know, I’m afraid if they ask, I’m going to absolutely have to send them down to you - I hope you don’t mind company~” Another glance at the poster, a few more laughs, and Clive wandered off. Perhaps he’d give a few hints to the Yard as to Layton’s location.

It would be teatime soon, and Layton had no guests to entertain - something he would have to remedy for the man…

[thecrownpetone]

Verduresapiens timeline

Okay so

mostly for clarification and for timeline smoothing;

Early 17; Randall finds the statue, Hershel is cursed, the vore begins

Late 17- Early 18; Hershel is driven out of town at weapon-point. Some guns are involved.

Mid 18; Hershel lives in the forest. He learns hunting and shit because forest

Late 18; Targent somehow gets wind of Hershel in the forest, kidnaps him. Hershel blames Randall, who was only there because he wanted to stop Targent from stealing friendo. Bye friendship.

Late 18- Early 19; Hershel is a prisoner of Targent - experiments, interrogations, the whole shebang.

Very late 19 probably; Hershel gets out.  Quite possibly he got out/escaped Targent late fall. Lives through at least one winter before Timidglutton events start up. Nearly dies because he’s not built for unheated shack life.

Early 20; Lives in Monte Dor a few months. Discovers what Real Sex is. Meets an Actual Demon that makes shit a thousand times worse for everybody

Mid 20; Goes back to Stansbury forest. Stays there until Mamatriton finds him. TimidGlutton starts here. Ish.

Late 20; Is delivered Little. It matures in about a month or so. Hershel is ‘swallowed’ by it.

Early 21; Mindless violence and more-or-less war in Misthallery for a few months as Hershel attacks literally everybody as he simultaneously mutates from human to Plant hybrid. Pain and confusion and mostly Little driving an otherwise psychotic meat puppet.

Mid-Late 21; Hershel is no longer psychotic and actively mutating. Not 100% stable and still heavily reliant on Little, but calmer. Hershel remains in Misthallery from now to about when he’s 29/30, at which point Verduresapiens begins.

[thecrownpetone]

MonsterClive V2 - 1

Okay so I’m exhausted so this description won’t be long. This is in the second version of my Monsterclive verse - I’ve restarted the whole thing because I wrote myself into a corner, inspirationally, with the last one, and came up with a few more ideas with a friend about what sort of monster Clive could be (it’s Wendigo btw)

This fic is probably the closest I’ve ever come to writing Actual S.e.x without getting myself flustered beyond belief and while it doesn’t contain the actual act of interc.ourse, it does contain vore/gore of a manner, and is plenty suggestive enough to earn a good, healthy NSFW slapped onto it.

Yeah so… enjoy? Again I’m sorry but I am goddamn exhausted.

——————————————

If there was one thing that always, no matter what, came in handy, it was his ability to alter his form. His best, most convincing shapes were the ‘Clive’ that everybody knew, and his normal, taller, skinny inhuman one – but the lady that he’d started playing with the last few years… Now she definitely had earned her keep, so to speak.

With golden eyes and long, semi-curly brown hair, she was always a hit with most men; them being more eager for a night copulating with a pretty girl than paying attention to whether or not she was a good, safe person. A little danger seemed if anything to entice them, drawing them in so close that Clive barely had to work at all to eat them – they were so eager for it at that point that the effort needed was minimal.

Seedy bars turned out to be the best place to pick up prey, for her. Clive’s common forms took more planning, more effort, but The Lady With The Golden Eyes needed no such care and caution. She was a common sight in bars – a mystery woman that came, enticed a man away, and returned a few weeks later to do it all again. She had a reputation as a maneater – in the way that referred to her having multiple sexual partners, of course, but in the other way it was just as accurate. Not that anyone was aware.

He – or rather, she, was in one such bar again tonight. With Hershel working late – another night spent in his office grading papers and such – Clive was able to stay out, able to don his oh-so-popular Lady shape and sashay into the latest seedy bar that he hadn’t been seen in for ages.

The reactions upon him – her – entering the bar never ceased to please him.

The moment she walked in, she had attention. More than a few men had their attention held by something else, to be sure, but a good, easy number were focused on her. The first one brave enough to approach, was the one he decided to take that night. He was a fair size, shaggy copper-blond hair, dark eyes, and a build that wasn’t actually half bad. Perhaps he just liked this bar. The company, the drinks, the atmosphere – she didn’t care. All that mattered was getting him alone.

“Pretty thing like you don’t often come to a place like this. You’re not lost, are you?” The words sounded concerned but his tone sounded eager. Hopeful. He wanted her alone. She did too, but in an entirely different, more bloody way.

“I’m not lost. I know exactly where I am, and what I’m looking for.” She eyed him, then, half-smirking in that way that rarely failed to hook them in. “I can take care of myself, don’t worry. You don’t come to a place like this without knowing what to expect.” Layering it just right. The personality had to be just so, had to be tempting enough, or they’d wriggle free like a fish trying to loose itself from a hook.

He always hated the conversation. Comparatively, the Lady had it easy; all she had to do was sound enticing and as though she’d only come for a night in somebody else’s bed – but he still hated having to wear the personality. It was much more fun as Clive, stalking through the night, keeping pace with their steps until they went somewhere quiet and alone, at which point he could strike and gobble them down, leaving nothing but a few bloodstains behind.

Still though – the Lady was made sure to sound convincing. Too shallow, and they’d lose interest and leave. It was like fishing, in that respect.

If you didn’t hold the fish’s interest, it would leave without biting. And he needed them to bite, so very badly.

He needed them to bite the Lady’s hooks in the same way most fishermen did – to reel them in, and eat them.

0o0o0o0

It had taken longer than usual – the time always varied, always changed from person to person in regards to how long they had to be teased and tempted before an offer was made, but eventually, offer they did. At first they’d clearly thought to get the Lady intoxicated, but a simple tease and quip was all that was needed to make them think that what they wanted, was all she’d come around for.

They wanted her in their bed, naked and all to themselves for a night of pleasure. Clive wanted something in a similar vein, except not in such a pleasant, consensual, erotic fashion.

“Mmh, now you are beautiful. Hard to believe that a girl like you ain’t taken already.” The man lay in bed – his own bed in his own room he’d escorted the Lady there after they’d both decided to go somewhere more private – the Lady swaying about the room as she teased him with the notion of undressing.

“Well, I don’t like being tied down. It’s no fun to be trapped together with only one person. But tonight, that one person is gonna be you~” The Lady was good at what she did. The perfect tone, the perfect  words, the perfect teasing to get them all hot and bothered. All that was needed was a simple poke of magic and they all but begged to have her on top of them.

She moved slowly, shedding a few layers until she was in only her underclothes. The man was already ridding himself of layers himself – not completely, he was being some manner of gentlemanly and clearly letting the Lady lead. How nice of him~

“You have no idea how much I want you inside me~” She said, sliding up to rest on top of him – but the words were not meant in the manner the man would understand them. Here he was being completely, wholly honest. He very much wanted this man inside him. Literally. “I’m aching, and you’re the one I picked to help me~” Soft words, trailing off – the man beneath not saying anything.

The Lady closed in, cuddling up against him. Clive wouldn’t go too far, but he liked the foreplay of teasing his meals and winding them up before eating. It was just too much fun – he loved to play with his food.

Hands running up the ladies back, playing with a bra that wasn’t technically there – a poke of magic made him stop, the hands remained but that was all that she wanted. Bodies running up against each other, warm skin against warm skin as they writhed together atop the bedsheets. Hands trailing over each other’s bodies, tracing the curves and taking in the forms. It was little more than just playtime for Clive, but he could see the man winding – up and up and almost entirely away.

“I need you inside me, I need you to fill me up and make the aching go away~” Leaning away, guiding his hands to her belly and making them rub gently – the man didn’t understand and at this juncture was too wound up to catch the true meaning. The man’s reply was an affirmation, yes, yes, he would fill her up like no other man ever had, and internally Clive was laughing. This sort of play was his absolute favorite – he could never get this kind of hunting as his regular self.

It was always fun to let the Lady take the reins for a night.

The Lady leaned back in, the man’s hands returning to their roaming and shifting across her form as she pulled in closer and closer – nipping at his neck, a simple burst of magic to muffle any sounds that might be louder than the room could hide and a bit into the man himself to make him feel like heaven itself had blossomed within his form; and Clive bit down.

The noise was fantastic – pain into pleasure; a spell that was always fun to let the Lady use; it kept struggling down and made his prey so eager to slip down his throat and coalesce as a quivering mass in his empty, waiting, aching belly.

“I need you inside of me so badly…” A voice that was still feminine, but now more monster than man. Clive’s prey was in no state to respond beyond moaning in pleasure; every bite, every additional stripping of flesh making the man feel as though he was ascending. “Do you feel it? Every bite of flesh filling me up so perfectly?” One of the man’s hands that was still intact, still able to feel – Clive pressed it against the belly that was slowly stretching taut, holding it there even as he continued to feed. His stomach was groaning and shifting inside him – eternally eager for more and more, happy to take this man’s entire mass and hold it within itself. Belly stretched and soft and pressing against his prey, groaning and shifting with each additional mote of flesh that slipped inside – it wasn’t long before blood loss took the man beneath the Lady, and Clive gave in to the eternal aching hunger. Sharp teeth tore into the body left behind, no longer a romantic partner and now simply a meal – mouthfuls of meat sliding down his throat to join the rest of him in Clive’s stomach, swollen and groaning.

Bones gulped down too – his system that was capable of digesting every part of a body more than happy to be filled even more. The sheets were bloody, but if he wasn’t feeling too bad the next morning he could simply wash it away with a good dose of magic.

For now, he simply lay back, curling up on the nice soft bed, hands rubbing gently up and down, back and forth, against the churning, gurgling stomach full to bursting with the man the Lady had just devoured.

“Look at that, you kept your promise… You said you’d fill me up, and you have – maybe not like no man ever has, but you’re definitely worth a note. I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your house, I-” A particularly loud gurgle from his stomach, and Clive brightened. “No? Good~ I need a shower before I go home, I think. Can’t let Hershel catch wind of anything – clever clever man. I’d send him down to you, but well… I’m afraid he’s too busy to make an appointment with me~” Quiet groaning of a stomach that was eager to work on it’s contents, and Clive rubbed it more, before rolling onto his back, giving a yawn. “Maybe a rest first, though. You’ve gone and made me tired. Enjoy yourself in there – I certainly am~”

He would have to come up with an excuse about where he’d been all night, normally – but Hershel would have another class that morning, and wouldn’t be home until that afternoon. Clive had more than enough time to rest off his most recent meal – the Lady would have to create her alibi, and without any trace of foul play, it would be as simple as just leaving and going someplace else for a while.

But for now… sleep. He could think more in the morning.

Another yawn, a healthy pat and rubbing of his stomach, and Clive was out like a light. It had been a good night – hopefully the next night he went hunting would be just as easy, and just as filling.