#Cw fatal vore

[philicheesecake]

Cw spooky vore thoughts >:)

A pred that has healing stomach properties, but not for a wholesome purpose. Their digestive enzymes contain a component that accelerate’s their prey’s metabolism while digesting them to make their meal last longer and gain more sustenance from their prey. So their prey could literally die in their stomach only to be brought back to life and repeat the process over and over again until the pred decides to digest them for good. Essentially it gives the pred more sustenance per prey (and more trauma >:))

This could also be used in an interesting way with preds who don’t want to permanently kill their prey, only devouring them long enough to get the sustenance they need then release them. Could be an interesting pred/prey duo where the pred repeatedly devours their (possibly captive) prey friend whenever they’re hungry, but keeps them alive as an infinite food source.

[bichambered-reservoir]

GIRRRGRGRGRRRRR I HATE HAVING FATAL VORE THOUGHTS WITH FRITZ AND COMET ITS TAKING OVER MY MIND BUT IT MAKES NO SENSE!!!!!!!

IM CLAWING BC I KNOW HOW IT CLASHES SO HARSHLY WITH EVERYTHING ABOUT COMETS BIOLOGY AND INTERNAL TURMOIL AND THE ENTIRE POINT OF EVERYTHING STORYWISE, AND MY MIND IS JUST GOING AGAINST IT SOLELY BC OF THE EXTANT FORM OF TRANSFORMATION ASPECT AND THE FACT I LITERALLY JUST WANNA DRAW FRITZ MELTING TO THE BONE AND BEING LIKE "omg....😳" ABOUT IT

FRITZ AND COMET HAVE TOO MUCH DEVELOPED WITH EACHOTHER BUT IT WORKS SO WELL WITH THE RELATIONSHIP ASPECT BUT GRGDDGAGGRGGGGG

like. comet has a craving for human flesh specifically because that was what he was made for. i havent gone into depth with what comet is on here but he was made specifically for killing and eating humans to multiply+convert their life force into something people could use for immortality and making manmade gods. and he's deathly scared of actually eating a human being (the bichambered reservoir was made specifically to avoid this process but still have the experience of "eating" someone) because the way that life force is converted is that he starts making these little organisms whose sole purpose is holding it and being able to be cracked open like an egg for the goodness inside. he'll just start producing like 20 of these horrible "children" that're just going to be a constant traumatic trigger because the last time he remembered that he made these, he watched them get taken away, killed, and he had to eat one of them. and if the trauma isnt enough, its not even good in the digestion aspect because Comet is also adapted for eating metal both for producing his exoskeleton and for making said organisms so not only is the aftermath of the event going to be traumatic but the process of digestion wouldn't even last long enough because it's just gonna be like this

like there won't even be a skeleton left behind. it's going to be all gone and its going to last a remarkable 2 seconds.

LIKE, REALISTICALLY, Fritz is just going to get vaporized, comet traumatized soon afterwards with 20 quasichildren, there's no actual way that fritz could get reformed, there won't even be a funny skeleton left behind, and all it's going to achieve is ignoring everything that has built their story and lore and EVERYTHING up for the sake of fluff in the weirdest and goriest way possible

and in every respect i should just do it in the fantasy selfship "universe" where there's no actual lore and rules and i can do whatever I want with DJ/MM where i even did this before, instead of the universe where i spent ALL this time with worldbuilding and making nonfatal vore not just possible but kind of an important part of Comet's development because it's part of the way he slowly reclaims his body and semi embraces his purpose on his own terms BUT MY BRAIN JUST. IT'S JUST NOT

STOP BEING STUPID

[weiner-does-preg]

AUgh sorry it’s so sketchy

[teal-fiend]

a pred getting really high (weed) and eating someone.

focusing their mind on the stretch of their stomach, their heightened perception making it feel unlike any experience they've ever had. They can feel every intricate detail of their meal's body, where it presses against their stomach's walls, it's fascinating.

The prey is embarrassed. They were not able to escape a pred who could at that moment barely function due to being super high. Even when the odds were in their favour, the prey failed to evade being eaten. And now the predator was being annoying, savouring them, following the prey's movements so closely. The prey wouldn't get any privacy until their body was liquefied and their form smoothed out, in the belly.

until then, the pred was entertained by the lumps and bulges in their stomach

[anchored-eats]

Going to be mixing the name suggestions that I got for this guy. His name is now Verdugo Moore!

Here he is digesting away at some poor souls. One's still struggling, two have accepted their fate, and three are nothing but sloppy mush and a pile of bones that float around in his belly.

[youngbellystuff]

cw: fatal vore / digestion / multiple m/m

Delicious Initiation

David, a towering figure at 6 foot 2 inches with a physique sculpted by years of dedication, was not just another college student. As the captain of the prestigious college frat, he carried himself with an air of confidence and authority. Known for his leadership skills and unwavering determination, David took his role seriously, especially when it came to selecting new pledges.

One crisp autumn evening, David gathered the potential pledges in the frat house's grand hall. The room buzzed with nervous energy as the hopefuls awaited their fate. David stood before them, his piercing gaze scanning the room.

"Gentlemen," he began, his voice commanding attention, "Tonight, we will test not just your strength, but your character."

He explained the challenge: a series of physical and mental tasks designed to push the pledges to their limits. But there was a twist. Each task was accompanied by a scenario that would entertain and delight the rest of the frat.

In the dimly lit basement of the frat house, David stood before the ten pledges, a mischievous glint in his eye. He held a cup filled with clear liquid, the only source of hydration after a series of intense challenges.

"Gentlemen, before you stand ten cups of water," David announced, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Drink up, and prove your resilience."

Eager to prove themselves, the pledges wasted no time in gulping down the contents of their cups. Unbeknownst to them, however, the liquid held a secret - it was concocted by the frat's resident chemist to shrink them down to a mere two inches tall.

As the liquid trickled down their throats, the pledges felt a strange sensation wash over them. Within moments, their surroundings grew vast and towering, their bodies shrinking until they stood only as tall as an action figure.

Panic ensued as the pledges looked around, their voices reduced to tiny squeaks. The frat bros above erupted into cheers and laughter, their amusement echoing through the basement.

David watched the scene unfold with a smirk, his plan executed perfectly. David knelt down to address the shrunken pledges. "Fear not, gentlemen," he reassured them, his tone earnest. "This is just another test of your resilience and adaptability."

As David chuckled at the antics of his frat bros and the bewildered expressions of the shrunken pledges, he suddenly found himself prepping for the next challenge. One of his mates placed a funnel inside David's mouth and he lied down on the floor by a table.

The ten tiny pledges were then lined up on the table, their task now clear. They had to push five of their fellow pledges down into the funnel in David's mouth to move on to the next challenge.

With nimble fingers and strategic maneuvers, the pledges formed alliances and devised clever tactics to propel their comrades into the funnel. Some used makeshift catapults fashioned from pencils and rubber bands, while others relied on sheer brute force to push their peers over the edge.

As the miniature gauntlet unfolded, David watched with amusement, his laughter muffled by the funnel in his mouth. Despite the absurdity of the situation, he couldn't help but admire the resilience and ingenuity of the tiny pledges.

One by one, the miniature pledges tumbled into the funnel, their triumphant cheers echoing in the basement. And as the fifth and final pledge disappeared into the depths of the funnel, David removed it from his mouth, his expression a mix of astonishment and admiration.

"Well done, gentlemen," he muffled with his mouth full of the losing pledges as they protested, his voice filled with genuine pride. David’s frat mate now speaks up "You all have passed the test with flying colors. Now, it's time to decide the fate of the losing pledges"

The miniature victors huddled together, whispering amongst themselves as they contemplated the appropriate punishment for their defeated comrades, now trapped within the confines of David's mouth. After a brief deliberation, one of them stepped forward, his tiny voice filled with determination.

"We believe the punishment should be swallowing," the miniature pledge declared, his tone firm and unwavering.

David's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the suggestion, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Swallowing, you say?" he echoed, considering the proposal with a thoughtful expression.

As the frat bros looked on with anticipation, David nodded in agreement. "Very well," he conceded, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Swallowing it is."

With a dramatic flourish, David tilted his head back and opened his mouth wide, revealing the 5 defeated pledges perched precariously on his tongue for all his frat mates and pledges to see. And with a single gulp, he swallowed them down, their tiny forms disappearing into the depths of his throat, forming a large clump that could be visibly seen making its way down his esophagus and ending up behind his washboard abs.

The frat bros erupted into cheers and applause, impressed by the audacity of the punishment. And as David savored the taste of the losers, he realized he was still hungry, quickly grinning as he remembered what the next challenge would entail.

The five winning pledges braced themselves for the next test of courage. Standing before a table adorned with hotdogs. As one of the frat bros positioned himself beside David, a gleeful smirk playing on his lips, the rules of the challenge were laid out. Each pledge was to hug a hotdog tightly while a frat bro dropped them one by one into David's waiting maw. “The pledge who held on the longest would emerge victorious.” David exclaimed before a subtle burp.

With hearts pounding and adrenaline coursing through their veins, the pledges approached the table. They each selected a hotdog, their hands trembling slightly as they prepared for the impending trial.

As the first hotdog was dropped into David's mouth, the pledges wasted no time in embracing their chosen sausages with all their might. The tension in the room was palpable as they grappled with the slippery, cylindrical objects, their determination fueling their resolve.

With each successive hotdog, the challenge grew increasingly difficult. Some pledges struggled to maintain their grip as the hotdogs slipped from their grasp, while others clenched their teeth and held on for dear life.

As the hotdog challenge intensified, the frat bros watched with bated breath as four of the pledges clung to their chosen sausages with unwavering determination. Despite the slippery texture and the looming threat of being swallowed whole, they refused to relinquish their grip, their resolve turning out to be their last mistake.

As each hotdog disappeared into David's waiting maw and made its way down his throat, the frat mates noticed the outline on David’s throat looked like it had a tiny bump on it. It became clear that four pledges had held on for too long. With a swift motion, David's throat muscles contracted, pulling the remaining hotdogs into his waiting stomach, and the 4 brave pledges along with them.

As the frat bros gathered around David, their curiosity piqued by the unusual turn of events, they couldn't resist the temptation to explore the aftermath of the hotdog challenge. With David's belly now full from swallowing the pledges who held on too long and the losers of the first challenge, it became a point of fascination for the group.

One by one, the frat bros stepped forward, their hands hovering over David's bloated stomach with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. With gentle pressure, they pressed against his skin, feeling the subtle movements and squirms of the swallowed pledges within behind his muscles and deepening belly button.

As their fingers traced the contours of David's distended belly, the swallowed pledges made their presence known with muffled protests and squirms, begging to be let out; “This isn't what we signed up for!” one protested, hardly audible.

David let out a large burp that could be heard across the basement, with it his stomach becoming less bloated. “Watch this!” and without hesitation he flexed his bloated abs, the sound of bones crunching echoed around the room. The frat mates feeling his belly now realizing that no more protests were emerging from within, “That was sick bro!” one exclaimed.

With David’s belly now calmed down once more, the frat bros shifted their attention back to the remaining pledge. They took a vote on whether the last standing pledge met the criteria to join. After a tense moment of deliberation, it became clear that the final pledge did not meet the standards set forth by the frat.

As the verdict was delivered, a sense of resignation settled over the last standing pledge. Despite his valiant effort, he knew that he had fallen short of the mark.

But rather than face expulsion, the frat bros devised a creative solution. With a mischievous glint in their eyes, they loaded the final pledge into a Bierstick filled with beer, the liquid sloshing around him as he was sealed inside, holding his breath as much as he could. One frat bro shouted “looks like your final exit challenge will be becoming nutrition for David.”

With a collective push, the frat bros propelled the Bierstick forward, sending it hurtling toward David's waiting maw. Slowly squeezing the contents into David’s welcoming throat. As the beer and the last standing pledge were swallowed whole, the clump was visibly seen disappearing into David’s waiting stomach. A chorus of cheers erupted from the frat bros, their laughter echoing through the frat house.

As the last standing pledge found themselves trapped within David's digestive system, their world became a dark and cramped space. With each passing moment, the acidic environment and the relentless contractions of David's stomach pressed in on them, squeezing the air from their lungs and suffusing their surroundings with an overwhelming sense of finality. He could see the broken remains of the previous 9 pledges that David had flexed to a crunch. Bloodied and showing signs of digestion on their skin and clothes.

In his last moments, the tiny pledge decided it was better to go out quickly and allowed himself to submerge into David’s vast sea of stomach acid, bubbles of his last bit of oxygen rising to the top. His final pledge challenge of becoming nutrients for the frat leader fulfilled.

With David's belly now stuffed with the remnants of the hotdog challenge and all 10 pledges, the frat bros gathered around him, their hands gently massaging his bloated abdomen.

With each gentle stroke, they could sense the digestive process in motion, the rhythmic contractions of David's stomach as it worked to break down the swallowed pledges and beer.

As they continued to rub David's belly, feeling the vibrations of his digestive system at work. As the minutes passed and the digestive process continued, the frat bros' hands continued to rest on David's belly, feeling the subtle changes within. Gradually, the rumbles and movements subsided, replaced by a strange stillness.

With a sense of curiosity, the frat bros pressed against David's abdomen once more, their fingers encountering something unexpected – the hard, bony outlines of skeletons. Gone were the squirms and movements; all that remained were the remnants of the swallowed pledges, reduced to nothing more than skeletons within David's digestive tract. David let out one last burp and exclaimed while slapping his belly “I hope tomorrow's batch of pledges is better than today’s - although I'm sure they won't be as delicious!”

[twelve-thousand-pizzas]

Note to self for future: Do NOT watch a show with tiny characters, not eat much for dinner, take your testosterone, and then go to bed. Not all of those things together. The hungry and the horny and the itty bitty blorbos WILL boil together in your brain and become “I desperately need to know what my favorite guy’s flesh tastes like” alarmingly fast!

[peoplerepellent2000]

Speedpaint of the funni digestion drawing

Tagging @bichambered-reservoir because i used their stomach tutorial lel

[bramble-mouse]

A piece for a monthly art prompt in a server I'm in: the Lunar New Year! Since it's the Year of the Snake, I chose to design a cute lil naga inspired by @mothatnight 's nagas! Her name is Serrano and she is based on a hognose- so a very spicy lil stinker.

The big boy is Eoin, my ace incubus who is thoroughly done with Serrano's sass during her time out in his belly.

Minors please do not interact!

[yourcarnevoreuspal]

//tw gore, hard vore, cannibalism,🔞 NSFW🔞

I don't see this as sexual, but I definitely understand that many do. /the prey thinks it's sexual /the pred is just hungry

Gods... I want to sink my teeth into their flesh, to rip and maim and swallow the chunks I tear from their body. I want them screaming and writhing under me as I lick the blood from their wounds and go in for more.

Why do they keep teasing me? Getting so close... Even after my obvious warnings and thinly veiled threats, they saunter up to me, their delicious midriff exposed and dancing in front of me. They know that I want to devour them, but perhaps they don't realize to the extent.

If it weren't for the others around us, keeping me in check with half-hearted snacks to distract me from my need of flesh, if we were alone in some room, no doubt it wouldn't be long before I had them cornered, that sweet, delectable skin between my jaws.

I'd eat my fill, and then some...

[suzyandthefox]

I have been thinking about Death and grief in vore

(post under the break)

Not necessarily fatal vore, but just the lingering shadow of death.

Grieving preds who lost a dear person to them and as a result, are extremely overprotective and desperate to hold their prey inside them all the time so that they don't lose them again.

Death figure preds, The Ferryman allowing you a safe passage through River Styx by acting as your ferry. Death that instead of reaping your soul with a scythe, wholly consumes you and swallows you into it's depths, your last moments end in warmth, softness, and a gentle touch.

Death figure pred that is protective, seeking out to shield your soul and preserve it rather than take it away.

I'm okay I promise it's just a thought

[philicheesecake]

An excerpt from a recent commission!Fatal vore below!

[lesbianoms]

NSFW - DARKER THAN USUAL // ORAL SEX MENTION

I want to be sedated before I’m devoured.

I want a female pred to take me home, drug me, and sit me in bed with her as she feels me up, caressing my exposed skin. I want to watch her dip between my thighs and eat me out, as I murmur to myself in high bliss, feeling the pleasure increase while she warms up her tongue.

I want to fall asleep in her arms, my mind hazy and weak, as she plants kisses to my neck and calls me cute… telling me that she could just eat me right up…

I want to wake up confused, not knowing where I am, until I look down and see that she’s swallowed me up to my hips. The warm, straining pull of her esophagus pulses around my legs, which are already tucked away inside of her tight, slimy belly.

I want to struggle without really thinking, not completely aware of what’s happening to me. She flicks her tongue across my crotch and I whine as my mind tries to comprehend the situation. But another firm swallow puts me in my place.

I lie still like a good meal as my hips are pulled down into her body; soon she’s up to my torso, my chest, my neck… and before I know it, I’m completely tucked inside of her stomach, feeling the liquids wash lazily over me. My naked body is coated in slime. I’m dazed and confused, and I groggily kick out across the slick bedding of my new home.

Meanwhile my devourer pats her belly, chuckling at my sluggish movements inside of her. She licks her lips and walks downstairs, her gut wobbling as she descends the steps, disorienting me even further.

I can’t think straight with all the heat around me, all the juices sloshing over. The drug is still prominent in my system. I moan as the slick walls tighten around me, but instead of trying to push them away, I rub up against my pred’s soft stomach like an affectionate kitten.

On the outside she just barely feels my weak movements. She hiccups, looking down at her gut and running her fingers over my form. She coos to me, teases me… tells me how much I’ll enjoy gurgling through her intestines, ending up as padding on her hips…

My pred makes herself some soup and slurps it down hungrily, adding more warmth to her core, bathing me in overstimulation. I squirm in bliss as her stomach growls possessively and churns around me…

By the end of the night I’m packed so tight in her belly, entirely out of it… I’ve come so many times and what’s left of my consciousness has completely submitted to her guts. I can hear my devourer moaning in pleasure, burping softly.

Maybe she feels better about it this way, knowing that as I digest, I can’t feel anything but numbing pleasure. The drug makes me experience absolute heaven down in that belly, and come morning, I’m no more distinguishable from the soup in her stomach… *gurgle* <3

[weiner-does-preg]

Do you have any belly-related kinks other than pregnancy?

I like vore, especially fatal vore that leads to weight gain and I rarely like stuffing and inflation! I’m not really into weight gain or getting fat or anything like that, though.

[teal-fiend]

an observer who has perfected the craft of pushing people into predator mode.

word count: 2600

You were hanging out with this guy all day. You hadn't known each other for that long, a few months. and you still didn't know; were you just going to be friends? Or was it going to be romantic? You didn't mind either way, really. Although you would have liked clarification. But he seemed genuinely interested in you; you had shared interests, and it was just easy being with him - not in a bad way. it was just effortless in a way that was refreshing.

You spent the day out and about; walking around, you got lunch together earlier, but a few hours passed and now you were going back to his house

you expected a kiss, but instead he puts a hand on your stomach. Strange, but not entirely unwanted.

"Are you hungry?" he asked

"Um, yeah, I suppose."

You were starting to get hungry; it was time for afternoon tea, or an early dinner.

"Do you mind?" He asked softly. You muttered a no, you didn't mind. He petted your stomach gently, scoping it out, it seemed like. You felt him gently poke at your soft middle, moving briefly to feel either side of your hips, before returning to the belly area.

You looked to his face and he was concentrated, almost with a medical focus. You felt your face flush with the precise attention you were getting. But you also wanted to ask him what the hell he was up to.

Soon he looked up at you, your eyes met, his expression was neutral, like this was a normal thing for him. He asked you if you wanted a belly rub. You though that was what he just did. But you had no reason to refuse, and now you were curious - you wanted to see where this was going. So you agreed.

He led you over to a kind of couch-chair, that he encouraged you to seat yourself in. He guided you to lie back, making sure you were comfortable. Then he went back to what he was doing, pressing lightly on your stomach.

He worked in on your belly, kneading down on it with some force, but not a painful amount. When he got lower down, on your intestines, you felt some pressure.

"This is your lunch," he pointed out, poking at a firm spot under your skin. It was, you remembered the time the two of your spent at the cafe earlier. You didn't think that he'd be massaging your stomach later

you blushed, unsure of his motivations still. He began working on that spot, and you did feel some release of pressure, accompanied by a gurgle as the food moved down your digestive tract.

"What are you doing?" You asked, on the verge of mild annoyance from his lack of an explanation.

"I'm making room," he said simply.

...

You could piece things together. He probably had figured out that you were a pred. And he probably wanted to feed you. prey.

But how did he know? Was it really that obvious? You felt your face heat with embarrassment. How many people knew just by seeing you? How many people knew but never brought it up out of courtesy?

Anyway, You should have probably told him that you don't really eat prey. Not that often anyway; you definitely weren't hungry enough right now.

"Do you mind if I...?" He touched the corner of my mouth. You told him again, no, go ahead. He parted your lips carefully with his fingers, with the confidence and expertise of a dentist, he inspected your teeth. He pressed down on their points; you heard him hum, as if in confirmation. A practiced eye could tell a predator by the teeth. The canines tended to be longer, yours weren't, but your other teeth were of a certain thickness and sharpness that was indicative of a predator; your molars had a pointedness, similar to a dog's. Supposedly, this would help in holding down on prey as it was eaten.

You felt his fingers graze overtop of them, and you salivated at the taste. When he removed his hands, you closed your mouth and swallowed.

"Look," you said, "I'm not all that hungry. Well, not that kind of hungry"

"Your body is ready for prey" He explained, "You haven't eaten in a couple weeks at least."

"I just had lunch a few hours ago."

"I mean, you haven't eaten prey. I've been with you almost every day this year, and although you might be able to hide it well, I know it's been a while."

You can still taste his flesh on your teeth, you lick your teeth and swallow again.

"Sorry," he said, sounding genuine, "you're probably going to feel pretty hungry in a minute. but if you don't want prey, I have regular food in my fridge - or I can uber something if you want-"

"Why would I be hungry?" You did feel a little hungry now. But not... not that hungry...

"I mean," He started sheepishly, "the belly rub; your stomach is awake now, and your small intestine is empty too."

"Okay-"

"- and the hands in your mouth thing; you've had a taste of prey now, so your body's going to start preparing to consume that."

hmm.

"And talking about eating - specifically talking about eating prey, it can kind of help with releasing those predator hormones that come out before you consume prey."

He continues, "not to mention, we were walking around the park all day, that amount of exercise will also, um, stimulate appetite."

"You've got this down to a science," you say.

He smiles, but tries to hide it, "yeah, sorry. Yeah, I guess I do. But it's not like that-"

"You said you have food?"

He shows you to the kitchen

You go into his fridge, and take out a stick of celery. you crunch on it aggressively, like you're biting apart someone's arm. It falls into your stomach sadly, and you feel an angry clench in your middle. It doesn't want that kind of food anymore.

You feel a little light-headed, a little dizzy, your gaze snaps back to this guy. He caused this, it's his fault.

he looks a little scared as you glare at him. Good. You feel a swell of pride or righteous justice, but then you feel sad. You like him, you don't want to scare him. You don't want to mess this up. but he's the one that messed it up

"What made you so sure that I wouldn't eat you?" You ask

He opens his mouth, but seems lost for words. He whispers "please don't...?"

There's a reason you don't often engage with your predatory side; it's very hard for you to control.

He didn't know that, but should this be a mistake that costs his life? Your stomach is growling now, you put a hand over it, to silence it or comfort it.

"Do you have prey?" You ask through gritted teeth, "Besides yourself?"

"Yes! Yes," He says, "I'll be right back." He rushes off, almost quick enough for you to want to chase after him. But you stay where you are, your hand now gripping the countertop because it's the only thing keeping you in place

three people enter the room, it's him and someone you know to be his friend. The third person you do not know

your predator brain immediately feels excitement. three entire prey! all for you to eat up. You could run to the front door and lock it, then you could chase down each one of them - it would be so much food.

You remind yourself that you aren't even capable of eating that much. You try to be more present in the moment, you realise that someone had asked you something, but you weren't paying attention.

One of the prey speaks, "Never mind, I'll see you later," they say to each other. Then one prey walks out of the front door. You feel disappointed - you should have locked it. Now there are only two of them. Still, you've never eaten two at once.

One of them approaches you. you feel adrenaline building as they get closer - it's not even running away.

But no, no, this is not the one you're supposed to eat. "Are you alright?" He asks.

You can't even begin to broach the question. "I'm hungry," you respond, which is true. More true than the words can express.

He nods. With more confidence than he should have, he takes your arm, and guides you into the living room.

Soon, the prey's hands are in your mouth. You're gulping them down ravenously, animalistically. You haven't consumed prey in a long while; it's good to be back.

"good, eat, eat up" he says gently

As you swallow, you feel a relief from the mania of hunger. Your anger dissipates too, somewhat.

Him encouraging you feels good; in the past, people have ran away in fear. But he stays by you, even helping push the prey down your throat when you get stuck.

It's a lot, eating prey. it's a big mission. You feel your unaccustomed stomach stretch many times past it's usual capacity, it's shocking to your mind, but it happens. You feel your whole being sigh and melt as the prey sinks into your tummy. Your observer isn't quick enough to help you as you fall to the ground, unused to the new weight

He kneels beside you, saying some kind of affirmation

Do you still want to eat him? You feel the exploding fullness of your stomach. You have to breathe shallowly, because the prey is squashed against your lungs. No, this is quite enough.

He helps you up onto the couch chair that you were seated on before all this started. Now the lunch you had earlier has been completely pushed aside by this new, finer meal.

Each breath you take is difficult. Inhaling causes your stomach to just feel even tighter. You give yourself a moment to try to adjust. You will, eventually.

He's watching you lying there, apprehension still fidgeting in his eyebrows. You reach out for his hand, and you put it on top of your stomach. He smooths his hand over your skin and you can't help but wheeze.

A belly massage feels much different now. Every bit of pressure causes electricity that courses through the entire shape of your stomach, and that flows into your whole body, flushing into your limbs, and sedating you.

It's relaxing, he knows what he's doing, you can tell, with the way he dances with the contours of your abdomen. You hear him sigh with relief as you relax, as he says, "there's a good pred, just relax and digest now."

Right, you forgot. You blink your eyes open and place your hands on each side of your middle. You do have a unique ability, which is that your stomach is happy to hold the prey inside it without digesting, for a few hours at least, until it gets restless, then it will start on it's own unless you specifically resist. It's kind of lucky for you, because although you aren't great at stopping yourself from consuming prey once you get it into your head that you should, you do at least have a window of opportunity where you can reverse the decision, which is not something everyone can say for themselves.

But anyway, since you want to get this prey digested sooner rather than later, you think you should get started now. You watch the gentle movements of the prey inside your stomach. You stroke back and forth gently, and then you sigh and give your stomach permission.

Nothing happens. You frown. You look up at the observer. He doesn't seem to be aware of the situation. He notices you looking at him and tilts his head.

"My stomach doesn't want to digest," you explain

"Oh! interesting," he says. "I guess you don't have to?"

"No," you say, "I want to."

He gives you a confused look. You sigh.

"I don't know, it's being stubborn. It might take a while."

"So your stomach can like, purposefully delay digesting?"

"Yeah, I mean, look, the prey isn't really moving around at all; if I was digesting them, there'd be a lot more wriggling - you know."

"yeah, you're right." he says inquisitively, "I've never heard of this happening before."

"It's fine, it'll happen eventually."

"Alright, you can just relax then, no need to digest," he pats your stomach supportively.

He goes back to massaging your stomach, which does feel good. Your eyelids become heavy, and you yawn. He asks you if you want to go to bed; he has a spare bedroom now, you can sleep in a proper bed if you need. No, you assure him, it's alright for now. You do ask him to dim the lights though, which he does.

He presses into your belly again, kneading into the solid form inside in a uniquely pleasing manner. You can't help but grin slightly. Your predator brain is chuffed. a good belly rub is something it enjoys very much. It likes to be fed, and it likes to be attended to. You scrunch your toes. You feel warm and fuzzy. He's treating you very well.

You put your attention on the specific place where his hand glides over your skin, you follow the movements and patterns, it's like listening to music. you feel his hand on your skin, the warmth, you feel the prey pressed against the taut walls of your stomach. you think about how he is in a way, really rubbing against the prey, and your skin is just the thing between. But the idea of him rubbing on the prey, to help encourage the stomach to digest - he's rubbing against the prey to help break it down, really. He's trying to get you to digest it. He's probably using techniques that he knows will be the most effective for digestion.

For some reason, this thought is what convinces your stomach. A glowing feeling of heat starts under your skin. You groan softly. You melt deeper into the chair. A few moments later and your prey starts to get agitated. you smile as you imagine your stomach acids being released with each desperate kick against the walls of your tummy. It's ironic really. You feel a funny tickle inside, and a bit pressure that turns into a careless belch.

You had a long road ahead of you, though, suddenly you were exhausted by the task ahead.

"Oh, good for you," your observer notes, "you've started digesting haven't you?"

You grunt an mhmm.

"I think I'll get you into bed if you don't mind, to get you more comfortable."

That sounds good now, so you agree. Carefully, he guides you to your feet. You lean on him heavily, but he does alright. You feel your belly sag against your legs, and it swags gently as you walk, gurgling as the liquids are now swished around. You get to the bed, and lie down like it's the first time you've ever known the comfort of a mattress.

The observer helps put the blankets over you. "I think you could use a nap," he noticed, "but I'll be here when you wake up."

He brings you a glass of water, and turns the lights off, leaving you with your prey, which you curl up around deviously, eager to break them down for nutrients.

A part of you wants to think about the implications of this situation, and what your relationship with the observer has now become. But your predator brain hushes you and urges you into sleep. Your stomach needs it's moment to digest. You'll deal with the rest later

[pampulonad]

If only I could see you right now~

I wish I could see how your body is struggling to hold itself together, see how my acids are breaking you down and subjecting you to the most divine pleasure you’ll ever experience~

I wish I could see your adorable face as it gasps for air inside my tight, suffocating, warm stomach~ I would do anything to see your eyes roll up when my hand squeezes my tummy in the right place~

I can’t resist playing with you even when you’ve completely surrendered to me~ I love to tease, you know this~ I wish I could see you slosh around inside of me~

You’re mine. And I’ll make sure you remember it every time my stomach makes a mess of you ♡

— ⛩️