#Fatal Vore

[dragongirlintestines]

"Don't worry, I'll let you out in a few days" is such a brutal taunt when prey is begging you for their life.

[fubardish]

HeyHey, looking for something like this again. Feel free to drop an OC with visual ref (and you need to +18 please PLEASE minors stay away). I will ignore OCs that don't go for my vibe.

I think I'm in a good mood to take some doodle requests for some fatal vore digestions. Feel free to drop OC ref if you feel like to melt away in MobFlams' belly :^)

[vorekody]

FINALLY done with this, a concept of the storage and digestive dolphin pred guts (-the thing that inspired me to make Alon in the first place shsjh)

Anyways I feel like it's usually the first stomach that's safe in mer/naga/centaur vore so I wanted to change it up a little bit.

Also felt like it made a bit more sense for Alon's bigger stomach to be for storing stuff yk?

This does make it so they can only digest one person at a time because of the lack of room in their first stomach, but I really like it that way I think, gotta wait ur turn.

[teal-fiend]

The Accident

Cw: unwilling prey, semi unwilling pred, digestion implied

At first, it's funny, just a silly accident.

You hadn't meant to swallow them—really, it was just a stupid accident. One second they were...  well it doesnt matter

and the next… well. Reflexes took over.

Now they’re curled up inside you, shifting awkwardly, a littler grossed out, pressing at the walls of your stomach with hesitant hands.

"Wow," they laugh, a little breathless. "This is weird. But, uh, let's figure out how to—"

Then it happens. A ripple, deep in your core. A slow, deliberate knead of muscle, drawing tight around the warm body inside you. The first trickle of heat. the unmistakable prickle of acid leaking out as your stomach prepared to digest. Your breath hitches.

Oh. That feels—

"Shit," you exhale, clutching your middle as your gut tightens again, this time with more purpose. A thick, rolling churn stirs in your belly, massaging the weight inside you.

Your stomach has realised something: there’s prey in it. And it’s considering its options.

There is one most favourable option.

"Uh, hey." Their voice is still light, but there’s an edge to it now. "I felt that. That was—is that digestion?"

You don't answer. You’re too caught up in the sensation. Warmth unfurls in you, something deep and curious and good.

Your gut clutches down, squeezing, squeezing, coaxing the meal inside into something softer, more compliant, something absorbable. You can feel the delicate details of their body against your stomach lining, how the heat and slick pressure intends on shaping them. Deleting the details. Breaking them down into something simplier.

It sends a shiver down your spine. Your hands drift to your belly, pressing, rubbing slow circles against the rounded swell.

The more you knead, the more intricate sensations you discover.

"Dude." There’s real unease in their voice now. A frantic shove from inside you.

"Snap out of it. This is funny and all, but get me out before—"

Your stomach cuts them off, rippling with a hungry, greedy glorp. It clenches down hard, pressing them tighter into its sticky embrace.

You barely stifle a moan at the feeling. Your breath is shaky.

"God, this is—this is really weird, but it feels—"

"Don't say it feels good."

Your hands push deeper into your belly, fingertips kneading, chasing the sensation of their squirming body as your gut gurgles over them.

Each movement makes it better—your stomach is reacting to their struggles, squeezing tighter, rewarding you with a fresh flood of heat.

They’re wriggling more, pushing at your stomach walls, but every motion just stirs up more of that sticky pleasure.

"Okay, no, you have to fight this!" They sound breathless now, the pressure growing heavier on them. "You don’t want to digest me, right?"

You shouldn't. But the weight of them inside you—their body squishing and shifting under your stomach's steady kneading—has you shuddering.

You can't help it; you sink lower, pressing your middle into the bed, letting the pressure sink them deeper into the hot, clenching hold of your gut.

"Ohh…"

The sound slips out before you can stop it. A shaky, drawn-out exhale.

"…Hey," their voice is smaller now, and you can hear the realization creeping into it. "Hey, no, you have to stop this, okay? You can fight it. Just stop—stop kneading your stomach, stop pressing down on me, please—"

Your stomach gurgles in reply, tight and content. You know, with an awful, sinking certainty, that you should be resisting. That you should be fighting against this feeling. This isnt something you can stop. Youve never felt this way before, and its too much for you to handle.

Your breath is coming in shallow, shaky gasps now, your entire body trembling with the sensation blooming deep in your gut. Each clench, each slow ripple of muscle working over the prey inside you, sends another wave of pleasure up your spine, warm and drugging. You have to try, you have to do something, or at least you have to buy some time, to clear your head, before its too late.

But every time you feel your prey - your friend, wriggle inside of you, each flutter against your skin, against your tender insides, it makes it harder to focus on your values.

"D-don't struggle," you whisper, voice thin and wrecked. Your hands tighten over the taut curve of your stomach, rubbing, kneading. "It—it feels too good. You’re just—hah—stimulating me more."

A choked sound from inside you. "Are you kidding me?!"

They kick. Hard.

And it’s ruinous.

The jolt of movement sends your stomach into a frenzy, rippling around them, clutching down with greedy, squeezing pressure. The heat inside you surges, thickening, your gut working faster, kneading them deeper into its clinging folds. Your body reacts, your instincts set off like a tripwire.

You bite back a moan, barely stifling the shaky pleasure that bubbles up in your throat.

"Oh, fuck—" They panic. You can feel it. Their instincts take over, and suddenly they’re thrashing, pressing, pushing against your stomach walls with all their strength.

Your brain flickers a brief realisation of the irony. Yours and your preys instincts acting in perfect discord.

And the overstimulation is delicious. A shudder wracks your frame as you press both hands to your gut, desperate to keep up with the overwhelming sensation.

Your fingers sink into your belly, rubbing deep, coaxing, encouraging—

"Ohhh, that’s—" You bite your lip, barely keeping yourself together. "You're making it worse, you’re just making it—hahh—faster…"

Your stomach glorps, rolling tight waves of muscle over the struggling meal inside. It’s learning about them, molding to them, working them down into something soft and pliant.

And eventually, something liquid, to be pumped further into your digestive tract. Something you deeply look forward to.

"STOP RUBBING YOUR STOMACH!"

You can’t.

Your hips shift as you curl around your gut, pressing down, needing more.

"I—I can’t help it," you gasp, barely able to speak through the sheer, heady sensation.

"I—I'm sorry, I just—it feels so… so good…"

They don't stop squirming, never giving you even a second to try and recover.

Their overwhelming fear, and your overwhelming pleasure means neither of you can stop Your instincts are louder than logic. And unfortunately, your stomach is the only one who knows exactly what to do in this situation.

Your hands circle in quick, desperate motions over your gut, trying to help it digest your friend.

despite yourself—despite your friendship, and the consequences you can barely make out through the fog of euphoria--despite everything—you murmur a quiet, breathless, "I'm sorry."

Then you press your belly deeper, harder into the mattress, and groan as digestion really begins.

[lesbianoms]

Reblog this if you like goopy, painless digestion! Y’all are my people

[justanothervoreblog]

New Commitments

You had finally met the guy of your dreams, Dylan. A smart, funny, and sweet man that treated you like the prince you deserved. Someone who would defend you and love you for all of your faults. Dylan was also a big proponent of building relationships with his significant other's family. Especially considering the two of you are engaged now. The ring on Dylan's finger a solemn promise to be by your side forever. Something you opposed vehemently because of a certain black sheep. However there is no talking him out of it, you take Dylan home to meet your family.

Unfortunately for you and eventually dylan, the only one home that day is your lazy lay about older brother, Kevin. Forever the favorite and forever a bastard that doesn't respect your wishes or your respect. Dylan did his best to try to win Kevin over. However for his efforts, Dylan caught a burp to the face. When you saw that a sock had to come up you realize the danger that Dylan was in. Kevin said that the sock was from his earlier lunch and now he was looking for dinner.

You knew that you had to get Dylan out of there and quickly. The car keys are in the kitchen. Despite your subtle warnings, Dylan does not take the hint. You quickly make it towards the kitchen and grab the car keys. Your quickness unfortunately does you little, because when you return it's already too late. You watch speechlessly as your slob of an older brother begins to swallow down the love of your life. Dylan is thrashing the entire way down, but Kevin's predator experience is unmatched. The moment you left Dylan alone, the moment he became food for Kevin. It would be foolish to try to pull him out, your fate would only be to join your lover inside your brother's belly. Something you are seriously considering now.

With another swallow, you watch Kevin lazily slurp down Dylan's legs. Kevin's belly expands with the love of your life curled inside. Despite the lack of enthusiasm on Kevin's face, the twitch at the corner of his mouth tells you that he was enjoying this. There's something so satisfying about denying you any kind of satisfaction in your life and turning it into a satisfaction in his. With one more lazy gulp, you watch Kevin's tongue wrap around Dylan's feet. It sinks to the back of his throat and then behind his chest. Kevin's belly sags and bounces, the last of your boyfriend, your love, is nothing more than a fat bulge on your brother.

Kevin licks his lips then drops to the couch and grabs the remote. Despite the thrashing in his belly he's already bored. A couple slaps to his round tum tries to calm down poor Dylan. Dylan's struggling only gets worse as Kevin lounges on the couch. Kevin seemingly annoyed with Dylan's desire to be anything but belly fat prompts a burp. Soon a powerful burp escapes Kevin's lips. Not only is it earth shattering, but it smells horribly. The smell assaulting your nose is but a preview of what poor Dylan is going through.

If the humiliation of losing the love of your life was not enough, Kevin goes a step further. From his burp a shiny metal object had landed at the top of his Dylan filled belly. It was your engagement ring. Kevin chuckles at the saliva covered promise. Figuring that you wouldn't need it now, he drops it into the depth of his belly button for safekeeping. Dylan had new engagements anyhow, he was promised to Kevin's gut. At least you'd be able to see him, whenever Kevin's belly slips out of his tank top.

[tabbytums]

Shane got hungry and ordered delivery. Unfortunately, for the delivery driver, he might have been too hungry~

[dragongirlintestines]

As a dragon, it's important to occasionally remind the local nobility that humans are, for all their delusions of grandeur:

1. still made of meat

And

2. Uniquely well shaped for siding down your gullet whole and alive

[hemipenal-system]

*vorniest girl you've ever seen voice* yeah ive been getting really into warframe lately

[teal-fiend]

You lean forward on the porch railing, cigarette dangling between your fingers as you survey the street. Your eyes, predatory in nature, can see every detail in the darkened trees, bushes, and mailboxes. Your friend’s night vision however, is not as competent. 

The evening's warm, the kind of night that feels thick with vice and contentment. 

Adding to that; Your belly is still a little heavy from your last feeding. It's barely a bump now—hardly noticeable—but you know it's there. Maybe someone with some discernment would be able to tell, too. Though Most people would think you’re just a bit chubby in the middle. Or bloated for a less sinister reason, than the fact that you ate someone a few days ago and you were still in the process of digesting them. 

But you imagined by tomorrow your gut would be all finished, and there’d be no indication at all that your prey was ever inside you. Feels good now, though. A lingering fullness. You haven’t felt the need to eat all day, you’re already set. 

In this period of resting and digesting, arose the perfect opportunity to socialise. Or more specifically, gossip. 

"You should have seen her," you mutter, flicking ash. "Dressed like she was going to some red carpet event, not a ‘date night’ at Denny’s - on a Tuesday, by the way. Like what the fuck is up with that?"

You pass the cig. Your friend raises an eyebrow, glancing over at you… and down at your… ex...? (does it count if you only went out once?) as they take a drag of their own. “Oh, and I’m sure you would never do anything remotely tacky. Like, I don’t know…eating your date?”

You narrow your eyes at them, "Excuse me?"

"Just saying," they reply, a savoir-faire smile slipping out. "Everyone’s got their flaws. Some people dress a bit extra on a date; others leave with a full belly."

You scoff, the irritation simmering. "What, and you're some saint? You don't even get it." You take your cigarette back and press it to your lips, inhaling sharply (before coughing grossly). "For your information, she practically begged to come back to my place - she knew what she was getting into."

“Uh-huh,” they reply, smiling. “Sure, if that’s how you want to rationalise it.”

“Go to hell.” You turn, crossing your arms, suddenly very aware of the slight curve at your middle. If your digestion hadn’t taken so long, you’d have a flat stomach by now. Maybe it was the dress. You coughed it up only yesterday. 

Was it… tacky to eat your date? You supposed, it was kind of stereotypical, for a pred. 

"Come on," they chuckle. "I mean hey, I’m just telling you how it is. You’re out here, Eating the person who agreed to go out with you. And you’re being picky about her fashion choices? Glass houses, and all that."

You glare at them, but they take your cigarette and blow out a lazy plume of smoke, thoroughly amused at your expense. You simmer in irritation, shifting your weight onto your other foot. 

The silence between you and your friend settles—until your gut cuts in with a deep, rolling gurgle, loud enough to break it.

You flush, hoping your friend doesn’t comment, but they do, laughing, “ I guess she’s not too happy with what you’ve been saying about her. Maybe she wants to give her side of the story.” 

You scowl, folding your arms tighter across your stomach. The sound goes off again, a long groan that practically echoes in the night. Your gut must be pushing your meal along now. But could it not be so loud? Now was not a good time.

"Real mature," you mutter, kicking ash at your feet, trying to ignore the heat prickling in your cheeks. "She’s not saying anything.”

"Those tummy growls seem to say otherwise," your friend teases, tilting their head down at your inflamed middle,  “She seems a little unsettled about this whole ‘formal attire’ critique… 

I mean, I’d think you would come to appreciate her taste by now… all things considered.”

You shoot them an unamused look, but your stomach gives an almost petulant glorp, as if it's agreeing with them. They just laugh, delighted, and lean back on the railing, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

You give your belly a pointed pat. "She's got nothing left to say. Trust me."

But your friend just grins, eyes gleaming with humour as your belly gives another rhythmic groan. "Uh-huh. sure.”

As your friend’s laughter tapers off, you feel an odd little twinge in your stomach. At first, you ignore it, brushing it off as just a slight bit of indigestion, but the feeling only intensifies—an unease right below your ribs. You shift on your feet, putting a hand over your belly, but it doesn’t seem to help.

Your friend looks over to you, their expression switching to concern. “Are you alright there? Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset your stomach.”

You put a hand over your mouth, not knowing what to expect. With a lurch, you spit up something small and metallic, clinking as it lands in your open palm.

It’s a delicate, gold earring, with a little white gem in the centre—one of hers. You stare down at it, your face heating as you remember her fingers brushing over it just last night, laughing as she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. You didn’t think much of it then.

Your friend peers over, curious. “Well, well. Looks like she left you a little souvenir.” They observe it carefully, and look down at you, “I wonder if the other one is still in there.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, pocketing the earring with a scowl on your face. You press your hand against your stomach again, to gauge whether anything else is thinking about coming back up. 

“Maybe you should remove them first next time,” they suggest, “I hear eating prey with jewellery on can give you indigestion.”

“Helpful.” you mutter through gritted teeth.

[lesbianoms]

Pred going to the doctor because I’m not digesting right, and the doctor treating her full, groaning tummy like it’s a separate entity because of the prey (me!!!) inside.

Asking her to flop it down onto the table and asking it questions that I can’t respond to because I’m only half-conscious and the bubbly, squelching gurgles are overwhelmingly loud compared to my slurred voice.

The doctor pressing up a stethoscope against the gut in the hopes to hear me better... giving up when it doesn't help. Feeling up my pred's swollen middle, casually telling her to drink more water once I pass out because it'll help digestion.

Just... everyone regarding me and my eventual fate but still treating me like food or a bad stomach cramp that'll just settle down. Something about that is sooo good!!

And after that, there are still options.... maybe the doctor gives my pred some digestion pills that speed up the process, and they both watch as I begin to squirm again. Her belly becomes a bubbling cauldron and long, deep groans sound out... my high-pitched whimpers of surprise raise a muffled crescendo and then stop entirely as her stomach shrinks rapidly ☠️

Or maybe she carries my weight all the way back home and tucks me under a blanket, feeling my kicks from within weaken and soften, rubbing her poor belly and moaning, hoping I'll tire myself out so she can start hydrating ❤️

[vorishthings]

The Last Delivery

This is my first vore story, and I hope you like it! Let me know if I can improve my writing by liking it, or just message me. If you want more send me some ideas or writing prompts. Enjoy!

It was any average Tuesday. Bryson was hungry. Not hungry in a simple, “I will eat food” sort of way. No, he was hungry for prey. He didn’t feel like going on a dating app and seducing his way into eating his prey, or finding some other convoluted way to go about getting his dinner. He decided to simply call in a pizza and have it delivered to his home. What a simple easy way to get his prey delivered to him. 

Eventually, the pizza arrived at his door, with a hot delivery guy to accompany it. Man, and he is hot too? I love hot prey. Hot prey for Bryson made it all the more appealing for him, as he loved the hot of someone gorgeous becoming worthless belly fat on him. Bryson opened the door, and the delivery guy greeted him. 

“Hello, I have a pizza for a…Bryson?” 

“Yes, that's me.” GURGLE. Bryson’s stomach must have had a mind of its own as it must have known its prey was nearby, and it grew upset in waiting. “Oh, excuse me, I haven’t eaten all day.” 

“Haha! It’s all right! I hope this will satisfy your hunger. One large pepperoni pizza with a liter of soda.” 

“Thank you, wait, hold on for one second.” He took the pizza and the soda bottle and set it down on the table, ran over to his desk and grabbed a ten dollar bill from it. He ran to the door. 

“Here is your tip, and…oops!” Bryson purposefully dropped the ten dollar bill on the floor. “I am so sorry…” 

“Oh no, it is okay. I can get it.” The delivery guy bent down and went to grab the dollar bill from the floor.  

Now was his chance, for his prey was distracted. Seizing the opportunity, Bryson grabbed the delivery boy by the back of his shirt and dragged him inside the house, slamming the door behind him with his foot. 

“Hey, what the fuck was that for? Let me go!” The delivery guy questioned and moved around to get him to let go of his shirt. Instead, Bryson took the delivery guy and put him in a chokehold. 

“Don’t worry, you will be fine…I promise. Just let me do what I need to do, and it will all be over.” Bryson tried to reassure the delivery guy. But the delivery guy was not reassured, and instead acted in a fighting response, kicking Bryson in the balls. “Oh, fuck!” Bryson yelled out loud. “Ok, that is it! You are going in there right now, so you can think about what you just did!” Bryson opened wide, his huge mouth leaking with drool to help maneuver his prey through his esophagus. He quickly shoved the guy’s head into his mouth, and removed his arm from the guy’s neck and put both his hands around the guy’s arms, forcing them to stay to his side. Mmmmfff!  The delivery guy was yelling, but his voice drowned out, as Bryson’s body made it impossible for any voice to be heard clearly from the outside.

Now, Bryson got his head down his esophagus, it was time for the shoulders, and eventually the guy's chest. Bryson was enjoying every second of his prey squirming, and his dick immediately got hard. The same could be said about the delivery guy. The guy’s dick was hard as a rock, and once Bryson got to the guy’s crotch, he started playing with the guy’s dick with his tongue. Mmmmffff! The delivery guy immediately moaned and orgasmed, with a cum stain appearing on the outside of his khaki pants.

Bryson could taste the cum with his tongue, and wanted to continue playing with his prey, but couldn’t, as the guy’s legs grew stiff from pleasure, and he stopped fighting. Pulling the guy’s shoes off of his feet, Bryson seized his chance, put his hands around the soles of the delivery guy's feet, and sent him with one final push to his stomach. GULP! Bryson’s neck bulged as the guy was being pushed by his insides to his stomach. 

“There, was it really that hard?” Bryson asked him. “Well, your job is now accomplished. You delivered my meal straight to my gut. Technically, you are the meal, but the little details don’t matter.” 

The delivery guy was pounding on the sides of Bryson’s stomach. “Let me out! Please! I will let you have the pizza for free! I will do anything! Just please don’t let it end like this!” Unfortunately for the delivery guy, Bryson’s stomach covered the sounds of his words, and it could only be heard as muffled voices from outside. “Oh, fuck! Your struggling is making me hard.”

Bryson’s dick was vibrating from the pleasure of having prey in his stomach. He took out his dick from his pants and started aggressively, pumping. Bryson couldn’t handle it anymore, and thick, gooey cum erupted from his cock and got shot all over his stomach, and the couch. He admired the orgasm he just had, and was too lazy and tired to clean it up. His stomach however, was not lazy, its job was just getting started.  Grrrrrroan. “Wow, my stomach must be having a field day with you in there, my friend.” 

Bryson went to sit down on his couch and took the pizza box that was on his table that the guy delivered. “Don’t worry, I won’t let this food go to waste. Here, why don’t you try some?” Bryson rolled up a pizza slice, and swallowed it whole. Once it got to Bryson’s stomach, it unrolled, making it more cramped and less air was inside of Bryson’s stomach for the delivery guy to breathe.

Bryson downed more pizza slices, and followed it with some sugary soda, which his stomach received with enthusiasm. Grrrrrrrrrrooooaaaaan. “Hey man! Not cool! I can barely *cough* breathe.” He kept punching at the sides of Bryson’s stomach, and it only made it more upset and aggressive.

Bryson moaned. “Just give up, and make yourself comfortable. You can’t escape your demise.” He patted his belly in an attempt to make the delivery guy calm down. “Your life will serve as a matter of sustenance. I mean you did wish earlier that my hunger would be satisfied didn’t you?” 

“What? I didn’t mean me! I meant the pizza, and I…*cough* *cough*” Bryson’s stomach rumbled, as it contracted and splashed acid all over the delivery guy and the pizza. The delivery felt the acid burn through his clothes and eventually his skin. His shirt fell off of him, and so did his pants. He felt himself becoming deformed, and he tried to stop it. He aggressively used all of his might to pound on the outside of Bryson’s stomach, to no avail. He grew weaker and weaker, and eventually, he gave up and subsided to his fate of becoming his customer’s dinner. Well, at least I made a customer happy. At least I did my job right. Sort of. 

Bryson’s warm, smooth stomach walls started squeezing around the delivery guy, mushing him into whatever form it desired, almost like the stomach was playing with clay. Soon, the delivery guy became just soup and miscellaneous piles of flesh and bones. Bryson felt his stomach grow peaceful and quiet. The delivery guy stopped thrashing around his stomach, and his stomach stood still. “What? Gone already? Man, prey always digests so quickly.”

Bryson felt pressure rise from his stomach, and braced himself, and let out a huge belch. BURRRRRRRRPPPP. With a splat, what seemed to be what was left of the delivery guy’s uniform: his pants, his shirt, and his socks, got thrown to the floor. Bryson assumed that the guy’s underwear must still be inside his stomach, but that was fine with him, as he could just collect his underwear when it passed through his body as a keepsake of his victim.

He slapped his stomach, and started playing with it. “You are now a part of me, as useless body fat and energy that I can easily just exercise and burn right through. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay there, because my metabolism goes through things fast, and next thing you know, you will end up as undigested remains in my toilet. Thanks for feeding my hunger.” Grrrooaannn. His stomach erupted with groans and gurgles from within and kept eating away at the pizza and the remains of the delivery guy. As for Bryson, he went back to watching TV, while the delivery guy was stewing in his powerful stomach, along with the pizza he delivered.

[tabbytums]

started off as a sketch page of my oc Shane and then ended up kinda being a short digestion sequence.

he had some breakfast in bed but then had to lug his huge digesting gut around all day at work 🙄 they seriously need to make those desks bigger to accommodate preds

[emlittly]

God there's some good fucking text posts on this site huh.

Inspired by browsing the v.ore tag at midnight:

Going to a mixed predator/prey bar, but it's subtle y'know? classy-like. The tables have nice linen on them and people are all dressed up in suits and skirts and all sorts of eye popping combinations. They've even got jazz music. Shit that's nice.

You find yourself hugging a corner near the emptier side of the bar, in fact there's only one other person: an ambiguously gendered, short-haired rocking predator who you can only identify as one because the last three buttons on their shirt are undone and oh my god you can see something squirming in there. There's a thin trail of hair that leads down to their pants but you can't help but stare at that soft imprint just that little bit higher up.

So you're a little freaked out right, it's not like you've ever sat down with one of these people before but they're nice enough and even offer to buy you a drink and, yeah, they're halfway through a tall glass of foamy alcohol that lingers on the corner of their lips and makes a nice big imprint down their throat whenever they swallow and the bulge in their gut squirms a bit harder when that delayed swallow of beer ends up inside that same stomach they're in right now.

And their teeth are just the most interesting thing (you can't stop staring at them). They're a bit jagged, canines like the kind you'd see on vampires in old TV shows. You ask if they bite. They laugh and wink and say only if you want to. You brave a question:

Did the last sucker you asked that answer honestly?

They laugh and run a hand along their stomach. You can just barely hear the sobs inside. They must be so cramped in there. A stomach designed to squeeze and churn food into calories - that'll treat a human no better than any other piece of meat you subject to an acid bath for hours and hours. So tight, so hot, so oppressive.

They offer to take you to their place tonight and, fuck, you're not sure you're strong enough to say no.

[nombitenary]

Obsessed with a pred overindulging a little, especially with G/t vore. A full and squirming belly packed full with tinies, every single movement any one of them makes something the pred call feel against the strained walls of their stomach. Tiny ripples of movements flutter under their skin, and they rub their belly, causing all the prey within to cry out in a myriad of different muffled voices as they're all shuffled around in the tight space. They barely even move, too firmly wedged against the strained folds of the belly and each other to be jostled.

Bonus if the pred tries to get just one last tiny down and has to really struggle to cram them in there, swallowing repeatedly as they feel an uncomfortable pressure at the top of their stomach. Their fingers worriedly rub their middle, tracing around the squirming lumps tucked beneath their skin and kneading in an attempt to coax their prey further along into their intestines...

All the jostling does is cause them to hiccup, and although it's not a lot... with the pocket of air gone, the stomach is allowed a little more space to relax, only for the pred to gulp one last time and seal their last mouthful in their churning gut.

A pred could also pair this sort of meal with a drink- perhaps a hot tea to try getting their prey to digest faster to create more room. All the prey can do is thrash and wriggle with more vigour at the sound of the pred eagerly and repeatedly gulping above them, a steady stream of hot liquid spilling into the belly and causing those stuck against the bottom of the stomach's lining to frantically try clawing their way up. Maybe the tea doesn't help digestion, but the pred wouldn't know thanks to the fact that how much it makes their prey struggle certainly does.

They can't even fight back properly. Too bogged down by the hot drink causing the already sweltering temperature to rise further as liquid soaks through their clothing, weighing them down. The stomach around them is eagerly churning, one rippling wall firmly settled against them thanks to the pred rubbing them and cooing about how good of a meal they all made...

And of course, if they make it whole and alive into the intestines... the pred walking their fingers along the curve of their lower belly to single out each individual squirming lump. Just to remind them of their place, trapped in gurgling darkness, squeezed by muscles set on pulling them deeper... deeper...

A sudden pressure above them causes a new bout of squirming, though they're all shocked when they feel wriggling from above the fleshy 'ceiling' of the pred's intestines.

The pred's already indulging again. They plan on filling each inch of their gut with squirming tinies, and with the lovely wriggles of their meal settling in with longer gurgles and glorps... well, it just makes them hungry.

Luckily for them, tinies are easy enough to come by, and more than easy enough to swallow.