#Nervous pred

[dvorrak]

I like it when a pred can’t lie to save their life

[yummynomms]

I LOVE THIS TROPE aaaaaaaaa-

old old art that I was waiting to publish for when I had a story to go along with it but... it's been so long and I don't think the story is coming along any time soon soo...~

[itsmoving]

back and tired.

sleep <<<< draw oc tummy

[nomlebean]

Abel noms

[stormtheskyelf2]

VORE RANT AHHH

nervous, willing preds x comforting, willing prey, enemies to lovers

Pred: "Y- you want.. me? To eat you? Didn't it scare you when I first ate you?" Prey: "Yes.. but you're nice. Please, don't worry. I like being that close to you." Pred: "Well.. if you insist."

willing, comforting pred x nervous, willing prey Prey: "E-eat? Me? Isn't that dangerous?" Pred: "Normally, but I promise, I'd never hurt you. If you want, you can just kinda feel around my mouth, yeah?" Prey: "Alright.."

OCD/Perfectionist/Burnt-out/never reached those high expectations/people-pleaser preds

Pred: "You- trust me? To eat you? I- uh.. thanks, I.. never expected this." Prey: "Don't worry about it. Besides, you've been working too hard. You deserve a snack." Pred: "Heh.. I guess... thanks, buddy. I.. needed this."

[softsnugglystomach]

Finished the second part of my PJO vore fic

It’s Hestia-centric and focuses on how her childhood affected her, with a main focus on how (in this AU) she began to associate being eaten with being protected, and how that carries over into her relationship with her family, especially since she’s the oldest child and feels responsible for her family.

[bombernom]

i kinda hc that white bomberman trys to be confident about eating others, but is panicing inside

Holy FLIP i love that! Like At first he's all brave about eating prey but in reality he's like really worried if he's going to harm them or not. I like you, i REALLY like you

[nomstellations]

enough of the domineering, suave, confident preds. show me the nervous, flustered, inexperienced preds! give me a pred that's new to the whole vore thing and isn't sure of themselves! give me preds who aren't the ones in charge for a change!

[maw-and-pawp]

Silly idea:

A human(oid) "bus". You pay the busdriver the money, you tell them the destination, and they straight up swallow you down in practiced, professional ease. You land in a soft and padded place with many other people patiently waiting. It doesn't hurt here. It isn't damp or cramped, or even dark. The stomach walls softly glow warm multi-colored light - just enough to see. You consult the pamphlet once again to confirm that the glowing is a good sign. "Yes", it says, "the glowing is normal and harmless." It is a sign that the busdriver's magic is functioning as it should to keep the pocket dimension intact and that the appropriate digestion takes place.

The person next to you looks quite relaxed. They are deep asleep, half fused into the "seat", mouth wide open and snoring. You can see that their skin and clothes are drooping and starting to drip. They must be one of the first on the bus this morning. Poor thing woke up too early.

Soon they are submerged into the seat. Rapidly, your neighbor dissolves as if they were not even there. The plush "carpet" is not stained - perfectly and impossibly dry once again. You watch in awe and slight nervousness. The pamphlet assures you it is painless and not even permanent. 'Yes', you think, 'it's just their stop'.

You convince your shaking hands to ungrip your clothes as more people arrive and depart. With great effort you convince yourself to relax into the warm atmosphere. There is nothing more you can do after all - you made your choice.

[sillylilprey]

a pred and prey that both want to engage in vore, but they are both too shy to say it to the other

it basically becomes a game of patience, except neither of them know the other is playing.

But eventually, someone will still ask, and find out that they both wanted it the whole time, so yippee

[itsmoving]

(i got mad distracted writing this one lmao)

Imagine, if you'll humour me, a newbie pred. They're only just starting to explore this new diet, and it's great! but they've never exactly been a fast runner and actually catching prey can be difficult.

To compromise, they instead plan to stalk and kidnap a prey, and it goes a lot smoother than roughing it! but now they have a different problem on their hands. They have the prey back in the privacy of their home, but they just can't bring themselves to do it- they're a living person too!

The prey is strapped to a dining room chair in the cold basement of the pred's house. They glare at the pred as they pace back and forth, weighing up the guilt they'd feel against the gnawing, prickling pins-and-needles of the hunger that would bite back and kill them if they didn't sate it soon.

When the pred checks back on the prey, they're hunched over in their seat, only stuck upright by their binds as faint, delicate snoring comes from them. It is rather late, the pred considers, deciding that they'd sleep on the decision and leave the prey to their own sleep for now.

In the morning, they bring the prey a glass of water, not wanting them to croak before they're in their stomach. As the pred helps the prey by holding the glass for them, the prey takes notice of the pred's shirt, and finally speaks up after drinking half of the glass.

"You like that band?" they squeak out, voice hoarse with strain. The pred is confused for a moment before following their gaze down to the shirt they were wearing- a band graphic tee they had bought a few years prior that was always too big for them.

The pred hesitates for a moment before responding. "I used to. I know some songs, but I usually just sleep in this."

A breathy laugh rests hollow and cold on the pred's skin as the prey looks back up at them. "I never expected a predator to like prey music." There's bite behind the comment, but a curious and genuine smile plastered on their face that the pred can't help but return.

"Hey, good music's good music." Both of them laugh lightly, and a conversation starts up naturally. Just a back-and-forth of small talk as the two get to know each other a little better.

Before long, the pred is so lost in the conversation that they'd forgotten all about why the prey is there in the first place. They feel even more guilty than before and sit in silence for a moment while they reconsider their options.

Surprising the prey, the pred walks behind them and loosens the binds on their wrists, the prey tentatively shifting their arms from behind their back to brace themselves on the chair as they go to stand.

They turn to smile and thank to predator, but are quickly pinned to the ground and met with the gaping darkness of the maw before them. The prey wrestles and fights against the predator, pushing desperately against their shoulders to wrench their head free- but, like a vice, the predator's jaws only grip tighter, refusing to let as they take a strained, painful swallow.

It's an arduous process, but little by little they work the prey down their distressed oesophagus, the dryness of their skin and clothes scratching at their throat as they cuss themself out for waiting so long- they just taste that good!

One final gulp sounds and reverberates around the empty basement, sending the last of the prey down into them as their gut expands and sags, pushing the chair that just held them out of the way of its girth. The predator gently and curiously feels over their bloated stomach, prodding where the skin stretches, caressing the sore underside.

They have trouble moving, but hoist up their gut and sluggishly carry themself, and their prey, up the stairs out of the basement and into their living room. The rest of their day is spent trapped under the weight on the couch as they try their best to stay awake through the food-coma that suddenly overcame them.

That feeling of guilt they were dreading quickly dissipated as they revelled in the afterglow of the meal . It was understandable why so many predators are so hasty with their prey- if not out of morality, out of pure hedonistic rapacity.

[nomlebean]

Don’t know what to call him. Name recommendations? :3

Official name is Abel

His occupation is a writer

Age:20

Personality- Mostly shy and nervous, but is really nice and outgoing guy when you get to know him

(decided to do a robot/mixed tv pred. A doctor pred is coming soon)

[stormtheskyelf2]

so we know about nervous prey, we know about nervous preds... what about BOTH being nervous. would it just be full of apologies? would noms even happen?

HOW TO ENACT A VORE SESH WHEN BOTH PARTIES HAVE THE 'NERVOUS NOMMER' TRAIT: (An excerpt from Tummy Troubles Guide, a book I have definitely started writing)

(jk I just like treating this like it's DND)

Contains: Vore, Advice

The funny thing is I was actually doing an rp on character. ai with something like this with my Mercury - Vore bot

It would be something like, or at least from my experience, a really protective pred and a really hesitant prey. I like to say there's something like a 'vore drive' similar to a 'sex drive', except it's nonsexual and more so how strong the instinct is to be eaten and stored/eat and store.

If your prey has a very high vore drive, then it's them wanting to be eaten, knowing the pred won't hurt them, but at the same time having that lingering anxiety of "what if "-----"".

If your prey has a low vore drive, it might be them needing to hide or just seeking comfort in a tummy, but being scared that the Pred will suddenly snap them in half or digest them, which is often a trait of a new prey/pred duo and it's best to hold the prey in your mouth for a while and let them adjust, or even letting them try to nudge themselves down your throat (only if you have the "no gag reflex" trait; otherwise, that might be dangerous and you could choke, or the prey could get stuck.)

I find that prey often have a higher vore drive towards trusted individuals (knowing that it is much safer with them than say, the random stranger you hid in last week.)

Now onto preds!

Preds with low vore drives are uncommon but possible, especially (as I said before) if they have a new prey, or if they are new to vore as a whole.

Nervous preds with a high vore drive tend to have the "protective pred" trait alongside the "nervous nommer" trait, although sometimes there is no "nervous nommer" trait at all and they are 'misdiagnosed' as protective.

High vore drive + nervous preds will let the prey enter into their stomach (or stomachs), but will ask things like "I didn't squeeze you too tight, right?" or "Is it too warm in there?" or the like. If the prey has fallen asleep inside the pred, they often stop moving around and stay quiet as to not wake the prey. (However, many tend to sit on the couch for the entirety of the vore session in fear that if they move, they will disturb the prey, awake or not.)

Low vore drive + nervous preds often are paired with a low vore drive + nervous prey, as they often come together because the prey needed someone safe (i.e. a protector from bullies) and the pred stepped forward to fill that role without being asked, and then the vore drive on both grows stronger.

Nervous preds with low vore drives will often have high scores in the "nervous nommer" category, not only having the trait perhaps even with the "physical protector" trait, with them seeing vore as a way to keep their prey safe rather than "I want to hold them close". It is not uncommon for this category to have the "protective pred" trait as well, but it's not seen a lot unless the nervous pred has a rising vore drive.

Thank you for reading all this and thank you for asking, I enjoyed writing this and I enjoy knowing that people actually see me as someone to ask these sort of questions <3

[tinystarwatch]

YOU GET IT YES

Also consider anxious hunters who use the exercise to get THEM comfortable with the idea of a living person under the skin of their belly. Maybe an observer additionally helps by laying on top of the indent and kneads at the smaller friend’s shape. Or maybe the hunter tries walking around the house all day carrying their friend underneath the fabric, making sure the shirt is tucked into their pants so the prey doesn’t fall out.

Or maybe it’s a way for the hunter to tell their prey buddy they want to consume them out of need or affection, but they don’t have the strength to actually do it. The sweater trick is a great sign to actual noms.

~ Angel Anon

Oh! How could I not consider anxious pred! Great role reversal, especially if the prey comes up with the idea to help the pred "practice". And all the while, even if the pred is to nervous to go through, their gut could still be whining with the prey set right up against it.

Kinda off track but I also like the idea of "to nervous to outright ask" pred v.s. "to oblivious to pick up signals" prey in this situation. Playing 4d chess out here just to get in this persons mouth /- \.

[mawsnclaws]

Nervous preds who constantly poke and prod at their tummy to ask if you're ok and if you want out.

Confident prey who's cocky persona fades as soon as they're in front of an open maw.

Scary-looking preds who are secretly gentle and sweet, just misunderstood.

Experienced prey walking inexperienced preds through the entire process, careful not to overwhelm the pred.

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[teal-fiend]

Mistakes Happen

Content: vore, accidental digestion, unwilling prey,

Summary: A pred who has bad coping skills

–

The dim light of your living room flickers against the recently cleaned, dark wood floors. It’s late, and you’d intended for tonight to be a bit of fun—for you. Not for your guest. 

You didn’t mean anything malicious by it, you just wanted to prove a point. You look down at your stomach, still flat, knowing that’s about to change. 

Your guest sits nervously on the couch, shifting under your gaze. Your stomach growls in anticipation, as if it could read your thoughts. 

You had lured them into your home under the pretense of dinner. You suspected that they wanted more, and they would get more. But probably not the ‘more’ that they wanted. 

This prey was someone who you didn’t get along with (you didn’t get along with them. They seemed very… attached to you). But for the sake of other people, you need to get over it. And you had your methods. Tonight you were going to give them a good scare. They'd back off after learning what you are.

You had no intention of making this permanent, so to speak. You didn’t like digesting prey anyway. You preferred to trap them in your belly for a little while, feel them struggle for their life, and then let them out. All’s well. 

“Are you hungry?” Your soon-to-be-prey jokes. They heard your stomach too.

“No,” you say, with a grin. And it’s true; you don’t do this out of hunger.

They have a nervous laugh, glancing up at you. "You sure?"

They also notice the look in your eyes, how you’re inching closer, and how your stomach is still growling. Not adept at subtlety. Do they know what’s about to happen? It doesn’t matter-

"Promise." You stretch your mouth, testing. Feeling the familiar sensation as your jaw loosens, preparing for what comes next. 

The whole process is smooth—you’ve done this a lot. Your guest doesn’t put up much resistance, either or you’ve gotten too good at this. You swallow them down, bit by bit, enjoying the slight struggle. You welcome the familiar feeling of satisfaction that surges through you as your belly starts to swell, expanding with their form. When you finally gulp down the last of them, you pat your now round, firm gut. Your skin stretches tight, and you feel every slight movement from inside.

"There we go," you sigh, running your hand over your belly. Your prey squirm and push against the confines of your body. They’re in there, safe—not that they know it.

You settle back into your chair, resting a hand on your full belly, letting out a small, satisfied burp. A part of you feels giddy about it all. You showed them you could do it, that they were nothing but prey if you wanted them to be. But now… now you have to let them back out. You give your stomach a firm rub, feeling it churn beneath your fingers.

"See? Not so bad," you mutter, as your prey seems to realise the environment isn’t so hostile - Their predator has the stomach on a tight leash. There are no acids out and about right now.

Although you can feel your stomach’s eagerness. It wants to digest. Very badly. You feel it sizing up the prey, squeezing it gently, savouring it. You don’t want to tease it for much longer. 

"… guess I’ll let you out now." You say this out loud, but you sit for a moment longer. Basking in the post-meal afterglow. Observing your stomach as it cradles the prey, gentle because it is obedient. Like a dog balancing a treat on its nose. You smile, and give it a good pat. Enough fun for one night- 

Except, as you sit there, the weight of your belly presses down on you. Warmth pooling through you from the meal, your eyelids start to droop. It wasn’t meant to feel this cozy. The way your gut rests on your lap, heavy and comforting, it tugs at your fatigue.

You yawn. Your brain briefly registers that this is a mistake, but your body pulls you toward sleep like the tide. Inevitable, nothing can be done to stop what is about to happen. This outcome may have been sealed the moment you came up with the idea. You lean back, letting your hands come to rest on your stomach, and before you know it, you’re out.

unbeknownst to the unconscious you, your stomach continues to ungulate as the prey squirms. They become increasingly concerned about your unresponsiveness. As your heart rate and breathing slows, the noises from your belly grow louder, and the squirming intensifies. You don’t have as much control over your stomach while you’re asleep.

---

When you wake up, it’s dark. The house is silent, except for soft gurgling noises coming from your midsection. You blink, groggy, the weight of your belly immediately plain to you.

Reflexively, you let out a thick, rumbling belch. That didn’t sound… good. You get the sense that you may have fucked up.

You swallow hard, a slight twinge of dread settling inside your chest as you rub your eyes and look down. 

Your stomach has changed. No longer tight and firm with clear contours of your prey’s figure. It’s soft and heavy, resting against your lap like a large, overstuffed pillow. You blink, pressing a hand to it. It doesn’t push back. There’s no movement. Only softness, warmth, and the unmistakable sound of digestion; deep, slow, and languid, resonating from within.

"God damn it…" you mutter through gritted teeth, pressing both hands to your rounded stomach. You shake it, hoping for a sign, a twitch—anything. But your stomach is eerily calm. Content.

They’re gone.

“Fuck,” you hiss to yourself. You’re a predator; this is what your body does. You know you’re playing with fire when you put your preferred prey inside your predatory stomach.

But you should have control - if only you hadn’t fallen asleep, this wouldn’t have happened. But now… your guest has processed inside of you, and you’re left with the aftermath: a swollen, satisfied gut and a persistent weight of guilt. Condemning the prey to such a fate. And some disappointment in yourself too.

You groan, pushing yourself up to your feet. The weight of your stomach pulls you forward, making each step a little more laboured than usual. This is why you don’t like to let your stomach go all the way. And you don’t like knowing that it got the better of you.

You hate this—feeling heavy, burdened, unable to hide what’s happened. You dread the questions and comments that will be coming your way in the following days.

Padding into the kitchen, you put the kettle on. Tea, to clear your head, and help settle your rebellious stomach. It churns, hard at work, the digestion well underway, but you feel heavy, slow. You grumble under your breath, hands trailing over your large gut with annoyance.

"This wasn’t supposed to happen," you mutter. "I wasn’t hungry."

The kettle whistles, and you pour the hot water into a mug, steeping the tea as you stand there, absently rubbing the swell of your belly. You take a deep breath, calming your nerves, but the weight of what you’ve done (and what you now carry) lingers.

"Great," you mutter, sarcastic, taking a sip of the tea. "Now what?

You can’t exactly reverse what happened. Your body’s already claimed the meal, leaving you with the consequences. The mass in your belly hangs there, undeniable evidence of your mistake. You scowl, irritated that your stomach exploited your nap.

"Not like I can explain this to anyone," you grumble, leaning back against the counter. You take a curious, calculated glance at your jutted out stomach, wondering how you can make this bulge look less suspicious. 

This could land you in serious trouble. You weren’t supposed to digest them—only spook them a little. But this was too far, and you’ll be dragging around this heavy belly for the next few days. It will be comically obvious; You invited this person over for ‘dinner’. You ate them - you digested them. Everyone’s going to think you did it on purpose. That you were so petty that instead of being an adult and getting along, you ate them. Classic move. 

Next time you show your face, you'll be asked if you’ve seen the prey, because didn’t you invite them over? No-one’s seen them since. Concerning, don't you think? - They’ll see your gut, and know exactly what happened. You won’t be able to argue it was an accident. You grimace in embarrassment at the thought. 

“I hope you’re happy, you bastard,” you say, looking down at your stomach. It offers a noisy grumble, perhaps in reply. You feel a flare of affection towards it, which you are quick to squash. You’re still annoyed.

You can get ahead of this. Send a few texts, apologise. Beg them to understand it was an accident - you fell asleep - but you take full responsibility for your actions. It won’t be a perfect fix, but you can do damage control.

There is a lingering smidge of relief in knowing that you won’t have to deal with your prey's antics anymore. They were deep in your gut now, stored away, gone forever. That was a nice thought. But this wasn’t the way to deal with your problems. You cannot let it happen again.