#cw: vore

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - Parasite Problem

1 | 2 | 3

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

After Susie is severely injured in a major battle, Kris elects to take on a very difficult and dangerous task to help her out with a smaller problem.

PHEW this comic has felt like it's been taking me forever to do, and I've still got more left to finish, but hopefully all the rest goes smoothly!

[shizunitis]

question for the council: is it vore or vore adjacent if, hypothetically, shen yuan was transmigrated into binghe’s body, but vacated the premises to revive binghe and return his life to him, thus awakening in binghe a need to get shen yuan back inside of him, kind of in a “i never want to separate from you” way? i’m asking for a friend

[bramble-mouse]

My first time doing audio mixing ;; Please relax and enjoy.

[falgaia]

SAFE SKIN

for Tax Day 2024

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - Meeting Susie 1 | 2 | 3

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

Well, they met after Kris already sold their soul...and got off to a bit of a rough start! Turns out there's a bit of a learning curve for taming eldritch beasts.

(This short scene series will continue soon!)

[bramble-mouse]

"Hey, hey, hey. Deep breath, buddy."

Your giant friend's voice is so gentle as you shield your eyes from lights that are too bright, from feeling too much. You struggle out of your hoodie because the fabric is too scratchy in your arms and throw it away. You are on the verge of tears or screaming.

"Show me how I can help."

Your friend's massive voice again, but so soft, so gentle like the crash of ocean waves. You cannot find words right now so you open your eyes a moment, leveling a shaking finger in the direction of thier mouth.

The giant pauses and you feel gentle hands lift you off the ground as you squeeze your eyes shut again, cover your ears with you hands.

"Okay. Let's get you down."

The giant says, and you curl up, rocking to self soothe in the dip of their palm.

"It's okay. I'm right here."

You feel everything more than see it- a blast of warm air. The feeling of a great tongue beneath you. The deafening gulp that sends you down thier throat. The squeeze of throat muscles guiding you towards the giant's core.

Inside thier belly, it's dark. It's pleasantly humid and warm, and the walls squeeze around you, kneading tension from your body. As the organ gurgles harmlessly around you, you focus on the steady thumping of a colossal heart above you. The giants stomach mimics digesting you but does no harm. It simply groans loudly, massaging you as it your cradles body.

"Stay in there as long as you want, okay?"

The giant's muffled yet omnipresent voice reassures, then falls silent, allowing their stomach to do its usual work- to return you to ease, to help you regulate and coax you out of overstimulation.

[dirtybg3confessions]

I want Orin to castrate me, feed me my own balls on a silver platter, and keep me as her most special most favorite puppy.

[megapocalypse]

Controversial take everybody but I think Bingmei should be swallowed whole and be kept safely inside Shizun's tummy, and Bing-ge should be bingjuiced into a smoovie and have a strange sexual awakening inside Shizun's tummy 🥺

[dirty-ffxiv-confessions]

Confession: I need Y'shtola Rhul to actually swallow me whole but like idk do you all think she'd do it if I asked her politely enough?

[voxofthevoid]

On this fine Wednesday, can I interest anyone in consensual vore with a side of incest?

CW: graphic descriptions of non-lethal cannibalism; the eaten party being awake and aware during said cannibalism; sibling incest where one party doesn't believe they're siblings

“I’m not letting you do that,” Yuuji says, pressing down on Chōsō with all his weight; the state Yuuji’s in, Chōsō could throw him off easy as anything, but he doesn’t, which is exactly what Yuuji’s banking on. “This is bad enough without you…carving yourself up like steak.”

“It’s really not—”

“No.” Yuuji resettles, lifting his body off Chōsō to kneel between his legs, most of his weight still on the hands gripping Chōsō’s shoulders. There’s a lot of this that’s familiar—the position, their half-naked bodies, hooded eyes peering up at Yuuji. That somehow makes what he’s about to do feel worse, more perverse, but it’s still leagues better than letting Chōsō do that to himself for Yuuji’s sake. “I’ll do it. It’s just jaw strength anyway. I’m not that weak.”

“No one would accuse you of weakness, Yuuji,” Chōsō says, a trace of a sigh in his voice; Yuuji ignores Sukuna’s grumbled disagreement. The strange smile flirting with Chōsō’s lips is a more interesting sight. “I have such troublesome brothers.”

“Oh, come on, don’t—” Yuuji cuts himself off. It’s useless, and at this point, indulging Chōsō’s weird brother complex is the least he could do. “Are you ready?”

And Chōsō must know the question is more for Yuuji’s sake than his own, but he hums a reassurance anyway, tilting his head to the side to better bare the meat of his shoulder. Yuuji swallows thickly. He blames Chōsō’s attempt to serve himself up like dinner for his mind trying—and failing epically—to imagine it as a prime cut of steak. On the bright side, if Yuuji had actually felt hungry for even a moment, he’d never have forgiven himself.

“Sorry,” he mutters, the way he once did before killing this man’s actual brother, and dives in.

Flesh parts under his teeth, and Yuuji doesn’t stop until it comes apart in his mouth.

He has the sense not to chew.

The meat slides wetly down his throat, lodging at the base before a desperate, convulsive swallow forces it all the way down.

Cursed energy explodes inside him, a surge of alien power that’s quickly, devastatingly devoured by something Yuuji can’t even pretend is Sukuna. It’s nothing like the power that seeped into him slow and steady and almost sweet when it was just Chōsō’s blood wetting his mouth; if that was a trickle, this is a flood. He shudders through it, slumping against Chōsō until the metallic scent drenching the air makes him notice that Chōsō’s shoulder is still am open wound, the blood flow stemmed but the chunk of flesh still missing.

“Why are you—Chōsō, heal it!”

Chōsō says, “Take…more.”

Yuuji almost argues, but there’s a strain in Chōsō’s voice that wasn’t there any of the times before, and he’s reminded that this is harder for him too, and if this isn’t enough, if Yuuji has to do this again, he’ll be hurting this man again for no good reason.

He screws his eyes shut and bites deep, his teeth meeting each other through the fleeting resistance of flesh.

He swallows.

Another bite, another chunk of meat down his throat, another surge of power.

“Enough,” Yuuji says, mouth close enough to Chōsō’s torn shoulder to feel the steamy heat rising from it. “That’s enough, Chōsō.”

Under him, Chōsō heaves a shuddering sigh.

Yuuji pries his eyes open, forcing himself to look, to see.

He’s made a carnage of Chōsō’s shoulder. Yuuji barely paused to feel his depraved mouthfuls, and he couldn’t tell if the constriction of his throat had been from their size or just pure disgust. Now, looking at what he’s done, it’s clear his teeth weren’t as careful, as clean, as Yuuji had wanted.

Torn skin and exposed muscle. No bone, at least. But the whole shoulder is a mass of meat.

“Chōsō, I’m so—”

A sweaty palm curls around the side of Yuuji’s jaw, thumb slotting over his lips. Yuuji smothers the instinctive urge to pull away—and the even worse impulse to open his mouth and catch that flesh between his teeth for reasons that have nothing to do with consumption. He stays put, watching as Chōsō heals himself. His eyes are closed, and he’s breathing deeply and evenly through his nose. His shoulder is knitting itself back together, slower than all the times he’s healed before, and Yuuji hardly dares to breathe until every stray drop of blood is reabsorbed and every bloody tear fades into unmarred flesh.

Chōsō opens his eyes; they’re all pupil.

His cursed energy is a storm inside Yuuji, and there’s rot in it, a sensation Yuuji is infinitely familiar with, but it’s nothing like the endless festering that’s taken up residence in his soul. This just is.

It almost feels good.

“Thank you,” Yuuji chokes out.

He’s rewarded with a soft, drunken smile. Chōsō’s hand slides down from his jaw, skimming the lines of Yuuji’s neck and shoulder before falling limply to the bed.

“I’m glad it worked.”

[bramble-mouse]

The Faery Doctor

Chapter 2

Tags: G/t, gentle giant, timid tiny, fantasy setting, adventure Content warnings will be tagged appropriately for subsequent chapters. These may include death, gore and vore. They will include no sexual themes. CW: Vore (non-fatal), gore, vomit, implied death (Trish is fine!) Minors, please do not interact!

A marriage of peace and fear saturated every inch of Trish’s body the moment she stepped foot in the northern woods. Places as old as these carried stories, the voices born of nature itself that whispered to any with an open ear. While kind things could dwell in wise old trees, hungry monsters lurked, cunning and smarter than any ordinary beast. In truth, Trish was unsurprised that poor tanner’s son had vanished here. She could taste the old magic in the air, the countless memories of blood. 

If there’d been a road through these parts at some point, it hadn’t been maintained in a very long time. The only evidence it ever saw foot travel was an area where weeds didn’t grow between the remains of cobblestone. Trish had heard once from her mother that a great empire walked the world a long time ago, gifting roads, aqueducts and all manner of marvels to the common folk before departing to parts unknown. Some said these strange folk died out while others told of spying cities in the sky for a split second, only for them to vanish behind the dense cloud cover. 

What would it have been like to know this mysterious folk, Trish wondered? Were they elves? Old fey that predated even the sidhe? Were they beyond mortal knowing? Perhaps there would never be a true answer to the question, but Trish satisfied herself with coming up with theories whilst she picked her way along the road. 

The fork came quicker than expected- or perhaps Trish’s head had been so deep in the clouds she’d barely noticed time passing. She chewed on her lower lip. Perhaps being distracted was a poor choice. 

At the centre of the fork was a ruined statue, only the legs and the bottom of a robe remaining, captured in cracked plaster. Trish lingered, reaching out to trace the weathered surface with curious fingertips. A twig snapped to her left.

Trish’s head whipped towards the source of the noise and found a wolf staring at her, stalk still and muzzle coated in gore. It’s eyes were intense, alien and focused entirely on Trish.  Trish lowered her hand slowly, never once taking her eyes off the canine.

The wolf bolted and left its meal behind. She tiptoed forward out of morbid curiosity and peered over the small gathering of sparse brush.

Half a man’s torso, bare of clothing, with most of the ribcage exposed lay in a pile of gore and ichor on the permafrost. Trish covered her mouth and gasped, stumbling backwards away from the gruesome find. Was that from the tanner’s boy? No, frost giants generally ate their prey whole. The thought of the lad kicking as screaming as he was shoved into a maw of sharp teeth overwhelmed Trish with nausea.

The faery doctor found her feet and sprinted up the right path at the fork. There was nothing chasing her, yet she felt like a child rushing back upstairs when all the light went out for the night to escape the danger of shadows. 

Trish knew what could be in these woods, and meeting man eating giants in their element would be a death sentence. She pushed on up the incline, remembering her duty as a doctor. She had a patient in need at the end of this path, and come what may, her journey would be worth it if she could treat what ailed him.

Blessedly, it was spring and the majority of the snow had cleared off from the mountainside. Occasionally Trish came across piles of dirt flecked ice that stubbornly refused to yield to the sun. The trees grew taller, scragglier here with little successful underbrush beneath their high boughs, and soon enough, there was no longer a road to follow. Trish kept her eyes forward nervously. Would she get lost?

The lake Filip mentioned came into view, sweet relief in the form of an open space peppered with wild flowers, grass still recovering from the weight of heavy winter snow now since mostly melted and the bullrushes that flanked a corner of the water. Ducks floated atop the still waters of the lake, disturbed only by their movements and the jumping of trout. The fish were large, no doubt lovely if baked with lemon and herbs and a good dollop of butter. 

Trish felt sweat stick to her skin beneath her many layers. Despite the sunshine, she still felt the sting of the cold on her nose, a welcome relief after the most laborious leg of her trek. She longed to pause for a nap but there was a job to be done. Rest could come afterwards.

The faery doctor skirted around the lake and came to where the mouth of the cave should have been. Instead, there was a solid wall, seamless, jagged and unlikely to admit her any time soon. And yet the Sight bestowed upon her family generations ago by the faery yielded a flaw in the wall, a shimmering in a huge arch up the side of the cliff. Trish pulled out the stone Filip had given her and sure enough, the runes glowed, humming with a soft, electric power. The faery doctor drew in a few deep, grounding breaths before she touched the stone to the wall and watched her hand go through. The rest of her followed on nervous feet.

Inside of the cave was surprisingly bright, a tall corridor from the mouth illuminated by magical fire blue as sapphires. Every inch of this place thrummed with arcane power, both the wilder sort and the cultivated. The hairs on the back of Trish’s neck stood on end. She swore she smelled blood and ichor in the air still, shivering from both the chill of the higher elevation and the fresh memory of a discarded human torso.

There was a certain majesty to this place, carved into the very mountain as ancient dwarves had done. Though the handiwork was nowhere near as neat as a dwarf’s, the alcoves fit for the lights had been carved out by hand, high above on the walls. Trish still wasn’t sure she would get over just how high the ceiling was in this place. Would the end of this tunnel be just as massive?

Her answer arrived soon as she found a great opening nearly a hundred feet high, blocked off by a heavy patterned curtain embroidered with golden birds. The entire thing was beautifully sewn in a way only loving hands could craft.

Trish froze when she heard a pained groan from beyond the curtain. The voice was…big. Larger than any she’d ever known, like a clap of distant thunder.

‘I heard you treat anyone.’

The hooded woman had said.

Something dawned on Trish that turned her blood bitter cold.

Trish sidled around the heavy fabric and into a space that managed to be cozy despite being a cave. A kitchen counter had been carved from the stone, shaped and smoothed meticulously. She could not hope to spy what was on the countertops but she smelled something like stew and baked bread. There was a variety of rugs on the ground, handwoven, woolen and fur pelt alike. They served to make the hard ground more friendly to bare feet. There was a cold hearth straight ahead with an enormous iron stew pot over it, a well used kettle kept on the unlit augur in front of it. A plush cushion rested before the carved stone hearth, beside which was a ball of yarn and a half-knitted woolen shirt. Curiously, the shirt was a tiny thing, something made for someone her size rather than a giant.

A quick glance at the ceiling as Trish crept mouselike across the floor yielded a sight that made her gasp in quiet awe. Thousands of glowing crystals sprouted, like stars overhead. It was as if she were looking up at the nightsky, the soft myriad pinpricks of light chasing awake the lonely darkness in the cavern.

Another groan caught Trish’s attention and she snapped frightened eyes towards a large figure laid out on what appeared to be a bedroll. The figure appeared almost human- save for the sheer size, clad in simple grey breeches and a loose cotton shirt. The fellow must have been a good eighty feet tall, give or take. She was little more than a mouthful in comparison, and the consideration made Trish’s skin crawl.

But she was a faery doctor, Trish reminded herself, trying to bolster courage into limbs locked by terror.

She was a faery doctor and this creature was in pain. Trish had healed injured, grouchy dragons before, helped ogres with fevers and wargs with mange.

Would a giant be so different?

Trish decided not to dwell on that rhetorical question, lest what little bravery flee and send her running back the way she came.

“U…Um…Mister…Fr…Frio Frostfang?”

Trish’s small voice croaked out as she started forward towards the giant.

“E…Excuse me…Um..I…I’m s-s-sorry f…f..for b…barging in, I…”

Her throat closed up as the humongous  figure sat up with some difficulty. The giant’s eyes reminded her of the wolf’s she’d seen in the woods- pale, with slit pupils and fixed upon her with the intensity that could only belong to a predatory sizing up if she was a worthy meal. And yet the rest of his face sat at odds with such an assumption, a soft mouth, smooth angles, and an expression that while sick, showed concern.

“...You…”

The giant spoke breathlessly, his voice low and resonant in the closed space.

“Forgive me, I…”

“A woman sent me to heal you.”

Trish blurted out with the same intensity as one vomiting. She froze, wide eyed and shocked and her entire face went beet red.

The frost giant regarded her carefully, and Trish did the same to him in return. She noted soft, white waves of hair that fell in his eyes and down his neck. He sported short horns, like a young buck’s. Trish wondered idly if they were soft and velvety like deer horn too. She also noted, much to her own chagrin, that this giant was unfairly beautiful, utterly unlike any depiction of the burly, bearded and terrifying frost giants she’d heard about.

The giant’s lips perked up at the corners into a smile that softened his gaze, but the welcoming expression was fleeting. He winced and doubled over, clutching his middle.

“M…my apologies. I am not usually so terrible…”

He grit his teeth, hissed

“...A host.”

Trish swallowed thickly.

“...N..No, no, you’re… you’re unwell and…you weren’t expecting me, s…so…”

She trailed off, playing with the end of one of her braids. The ribbon fastening the end had loosened.

“I…I should like to give you an exam…if…if you’re comfortable with it.”

Frio hummed in assent.

“Gladly. Though I would like to know the name of my healer, I might thank her properly afterwards.”

Trish found she couldn’t meet his eye. Was he..was he charming? Yes, this giant was charming and polite- a gentleman, of all things. Not at all what she would expect from a frost giant. And yet here Frio was, well spoken and minding his manners even when he felt under the weather. She chewed on her lower lip. She continued to play with her hair ribbon, feeling the smoothness of the mossy green silk.

“T…Trish Mctavish, sir. I…I’m Doctor Trish Mctavish.”

She stammered.

“Sir?”

Frio chuckled softly.

“Please, my dear. Frio suits me well enough.”

Trish’s heart pounded. His laugh was gentle, too.

Trish made to approach the towering figure and the closer she drew, the more her fear returned. Her blood surged through her veins, a deafening pounding in her ear. She fought to keep her breathing even.

“I would never hurt my benefactor, doctor. Be as at ease as you are able.”

Frio said, his voice low as if he could read her thoughts. She tilted her head up and caught sight of his nose twitching in a manner more beast than man. Had Frio smelled her discomfort? He smiled down at her.

“Ah, but…I should lay down. I doubt you would like to try and…”

He paused, his jaw clenching as another wave of pain from his middle surged through.

“Y-Yes please.”

Trish cut in.

Frio nodded and laid down gingerly, pressing into his belly with one hand. His fingers were tipped with dark talons. They looked sharp.

She stared at the side of his head, noticing that he wore a blue tear drop earring.

“W…Would you turn to… to face me please?”

Frio hummed in response and tilted his head to the side. His lashes were long and pale, a veil over his monstrous, yet kind eyes.  She reached up to touch his forehead, painfully mindful of those immense gaze pinned to her form.

“You are quite pretty.”

He hummed, the statement decidedly too casual for the situation. Trish squeaked in response, her hand darting away. The giant laughed.

“My apologies. I am distracting you.”

Trish felt like she might explode from such velvety words- especially when they were close enough to rattle her very bones. 

Trish went through a mental checklist as she scanned over his body. A mild temperature (at least for an ice aspected being), sharp pain in his belly, and persistent nausea.

“Would you...o…open…your…”

Trish trailed off.

A giant’s mouth. Trish felt her courage falter and dug her nails into her palms to push on.

“Mouth. I …I need to…see inside your…”

Frio frowned. He appeared as if he wished to say something, to offer some word of comfort. Instead, the frost giant parted plush lips and revealed long fangs, a bluish tongue and the cavernous darkness in the back of his throat. The sight set off alarms within Trish- her instincts begging her to run, to flee, to hide, that she was in danger.

Frio’s breath gusted past her frame, tousling her tartan dress, coat and hair. It smelled of elderberries, and felt like a welcome, sunny breeze in early spring.

Trish could do this. She was a faery doctor and Frio was her patient.

The little woman set down her pack, shed her coat atop the mound of her belongings on the ground and poked her head inside the giant’s mouth despite the protests screaming loudly in her head. She sought any sign of poor health- discolouration of the tongue, a sore in the cheek, any inflammation in the throat.

Trish backed up, shaking from the ordeal and the moment she was far enough away, Frio snapped his jaws shut, causing her to squeak.

“Ah…My apologies.”

He said. Trish noted his features were flush and he seemed hesitant to meet her eye.

“Perhaps I should give a warning next time? If there is one. I would not presume…”

Trish chewed on her lower lip and fiddled with her skirts.

“N..No, I…It’s alright.”

A moment of awkward silence passed between them both before Frio cleared his throat and turned onto his side fully.

“Do you know what ails me, Doctor Mctavish?”

Trish rubbed her upper arm. There were several potential diagnoses but none that make sense for the sharp pains Frio described. A dull ache or a sour feeling would have made more sense- food poisoning, or a giant’s strain of stomach flu. And yet…

“Frio, what did you have to eat when you first noticed these pains?”

She inquired.

The frost giant’s face fell. He pressed his lips into a thin line. His brow creased and it was not anger that crossed his features but shame.

“...A giant hunter.”

He admitted, and his own voice wavered.

Trish knew logically what most frost giants ate. By rights, she could be on Frio’s menu once he was well again. Perhaps it would be the best choice to leave him here in pain and run before he could scarf her down too.

But that look in Frio’s eye- Why would a frost giant feel shame for admitting he’d eaten what was natural to him?

“You don’t like to eat humans.”

Trish mused aloud, words that had been meant to stay in her head tumbling free.

Frio laughed humorlessly.

“My nature would have me kill thinking, feeling beings for no reason other than greed and hunger. It is…disgusting to me, every time I falter.”

Trish frowned.

“And…and you said he was…was a giant hunter, didn’t you?”

Frio’s eyes flew back towards her, lidded and tormented.

“I could excuse myself for murdering him because he wanted to kill me first. Yet that would taste like a lie. I chose to consume him like a common beast. A man who most assuredly had a family. Who will now be a hole left in a child's life, a widow’s heartache.”

Fear was a strange thing in Trish’s line of work. It could manifest so easily when dealing with a stranger. She felt it even when she treated ordinary human men. It ebbed and flowed as easily as a tide while Trish treated every manner of creature both friendly to humankind and enemy to it.

So when every last mote of fear fled from Trish’s body, replaced by the adrenaline of compassion, Trish decided to follow that flow- that ever wobbling march of fear and bravery every faery doctor required.

“I have met very many different souls in my profession,”

Trish spoke.

“And…When a man regrets his actions this way, I…I find that such mental pain can make his illness all the worse.”

She glanced towards the giant’s midsection, so far away from where she stood. She’d noted the telltale sounds of indigestion when she’d made her observations there.

Trish lamented when she realized just how far she was about to go for a patient.

“What I…I mean to say is…is that I trust a man who desires to cause no harm, even if he falters. Because someone who makes a mistake so terrible is that much more steadfast in his conviction not to do so again.”

Frio’s eyes shimmered, reflecting the glowing crystals on the ceiling. He reached for her gently, slowly and when Trish flinched at first, he paused, extending the back of his index finger claw to her. It was an invitation. Trish hesitated once before reaching for the fingertip, placing her hand atop the pad.

“You think whatever I consumed with the hunter must be responsible for my pain, I take it.”

He said in a near whisper.

“Just as well.”

Trish fluttered her lips.

“Did you…”

How should she word this…

“Did you…eat him whole? With…with all of his affects?”

Frio cleared his throat.

“I…Yes.”

Trish nodded slowly, her hand still rested atop his finger. The cogs turned in her head. Resignation had her shoulders sagging, her hands reaching for the hem of her dress to pull it up and over her head. She kicked her boots off.

“What are you…”

Frio inquired and stopped.

“I…I need to perform an…extraction. And…”

Trish swallowed nervously, her voice cracking

“An internal examination.”

Frio appeared as if he’d been slapped. His eyes went wide.

“Absolutely not!”

He balked.

“I am sure the pain will pass with time. I will not subject someone I hardly know to…this!”

Frio gestured towards his middle with a claw.

“So you would swallow a friend, then?”

Trish mumbled before she could catch herself.

Frio’s mouth hung open a little. He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No, no I would not.”

Trish, dressed in stays, bloomers and woolen stockings that only served to accentuate just how boney her tiny form was, padded closer to his mouth. Her hands shook. The cold and the fear crept ever nearer and Trish had to begin before she could back out.

“I-It’s the doctor’s orders, i…if you please!”

She countered.

“I…I will be alright. I…I…”

Trish knew the words the sought their place on her tongue. They calmed her. Somehow, some part of her, faery gift or her own innate instinct on people kicked in.

“...I trust you, Frio.”

The frost giant was clearly at a loss for words. He looked utterly horrified at the thought of consuming this frail little woman, terrified she would break at his slightest touch.

Gods, was she brave. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath.

“You have known me for mere moments and you would trust me.”

Frio said.

“You are either a kind or foolish doctor.”

He opened his eyes again, fixing them upon the little human in front of his face.

“Are you certain you are willing to do this?”

Trish chewed her lower lip and went to his mouth, placing a hand on his lip. He tensed at the touch, felt something inside of him twist wonderfully. The doctor had no idea the effect she had.

“Yes. I cannot leave a patient to suffer. No matter who he is.”

Trish felt the careful weight of the giant's fingers on her upper arm. She felt the gentle stroke, a reassurance.

“You have my word that I will keep you safe.”

He spoke with conviction that gave Trish no doubt he meant what he said.

The faery doctor nodded, grabbed a few things from her pack and returned to his mouth.

“C…Could you…?” She said.

“Of course.”

Frio replied and turned over, mouth open wide and chin on the ground. The giant’s posture brought to mind a prostrated man praying to his god for salvation in one of the great temples.

Trish steeled herself for what would come next- for the horror she would find within this (thus far) gentle being’s belly. She lifted her foot onto his lip and hoisted herself inside. Her first step sank into his tongue. Trish felt his shuddering breaths rush past her.

Drool pooled quickly beneath the giant’s tongue. Was Trish making Frio salivate? The thought was unsettling yet…not fully unpleasant, to be delicious. Something to unpack when she wasn’t about to journey to the literal belly of the beast shortly. Trish lowered herself down, keeping a tight hold on a little satchel of supplies that thrummed with magic. She could hear the squelching of his throat, the way it seemed all too eager for her arrival.

“...You can..”

Trish whimpered

“S…Swallow me..”

Frio’s tongue slid her towards the back of his throat and she gasped in surprise. The giant stopped instantly.

“K-Keep going!”

Trish insisted.

Frio sighed passed her little body and pushed her past the point of no return with a deep, meaty gulp.

Trish had never been swallowed before and frankly, the entire experience was terrifying. She shook and stifled sobs as the darkness of Frio’s squeezing throat forced her downwards. Claustrophobia, the imminent destination below her- the faery doctor’s eyes prickled with tears as her whole body shuddered in fear. A powerful heart hammered behind Trish. Was Frio afraid too? The erratic pulse nearly deafened her as she felt the final squeeze before a free fall into an active stomach. She let out a cry, muffled by walls of thick flesh as she dropped into a pile of liquid that made her skin tingle. Trish gasped and scrambled backwards in the dark until she felt a solid wall at her back. A loud gurgle vibrated the fleshy chamber.

The inside of Frio’s belly was pitch black, humid but blissfully not sweltering; Trish had his frost giant nature to thank for that small blessing. The stomach grumbled again, the distinct sound of imminent digestion. Regardless of Frio’s wishes, the giant’s stomach viewed Trish as food. She would need to work quickly.

As Trish dug about in her bag of holding, she heard a muffled, yet booming voice cut through the squishing, wet sounds of bodily organs working around her.

“...Are you alright?”

Frio. He was checking on her.

“Y..Yes! I’m..I’m just getting to work.”

She shouted back. Would the giant even hear her? Evidently so, because his heart rate calmed some at the evidence of her well-being.

“I will give you five minutes, doctor, before I bring you back up.”

Frio stated firmly.

The time limit was a bit of a comfort, but it also meant she had a tighter deadline to find the hunter’s remains and figure out how to deal with his armour. Trish groped about her bag of holding until she found her quarry- a little piece of expensive parchment. It glowed faintly, then brighter when Trish read its incantation aloud. A trio of glowing lights, yellow like sunflowers illuminated the rippling space.

Immediately, Trish noted that she was wading ankle deep in masticated stew- and floating human bones. She yelped at the gruesome sight and started to hyperventilate, the sour air making her nearly sick as it stung her eyes and throat.  Trish reigned herself back in, thinking of her mother’s calm voice, lessons that ingrained deep in her psyche.

‘Deep breath. Assess the patient, find the ailment and the cause, determine the treatment.’

Trish’s lip quivered, her whole body trembling, but she cast her gaze around the inside of Frio’s stomach. Wrinkled pale blue flesh pressed in against her, writhing and alive. There was a mark along the lining and instantly, Trish knew it was the culprit of Frio’s pain. It weeped dark blue blood and appeared raw and angry, unable to heal when constantly irritated by the chaos of a working stomach.

“An open wound…”

Trish mused quietly to herself as she dug about in her bag for a solution. The holding enchantment afforded the doctor the ability to bring all manner of potions along to unique locations- and the perfect one for the job sat in her hands now, a soft lavender coloured liquid that resembled a milky sweet tea. Normally, Trish would have had a patient simply drink it but she doubted it would do little other than get lost in the rest of his stomach contents.

Trish felt her ankles begin to itch as stomach juices soaked through her stockings. She quickly but carefully poured the potion over the wound- and thankfully got enough on it before Frio let out a grunt of pain and the entire fleshy chamber shifted. Trish screamed as she was thrown backward against the opposite wall, the wind blown out of her. A splash of stomach liquid on her front made her panic. It burned.

“Gods, I am so sorry.”

The giant fretted.

Trish shoved a stomach wall, a silent reassurance that she was still alive and well, and heard the way Frio’s lungs filled and emptied like a relieved hurricane.

“Forgive me.”

She felt something press in against her. His hand, perhaps.

Trish found her balance again and toddered back over towards the site of the injury. It steamed and already, it was closing. Good. That would be enough.

And now, the disgusting bit.

Trish turned around with a grimace and stared down at the pile of bones surrounded by horrifically blood red, murky liquid. While even the bones had begun to slowly erode, the chain mail and the leather armour the hunter had worn over it remained nearly untouched. If the faint shimmer of magic rising off the articles was any indication, they were enchanted to be incredibly durable.

 Frio’s stomach let out a bubbling groan around Trish, the wrinkled walls closing in on her. She wobbled but mercifully stayed upright; Trish never would have recovered from falling on the hunter’s corpse.

“Whatever you have done is working wonders.”

The giant’s voice spoke again with a deep sigh. 

Trish chewed her lower lip. His relief would mean nothing if the armour made another wound. With that, the faery doctor let out a whine, picked up a vomit covered chain shirt and stuffed it into her bag of holding.

“Oh…Good heavens above…”

She gagged, the bits of tougher leather going in next. The bones Trish would leave. A frost giant could digest that when given enough time. The bag of holding would be the best method of transporting the indigestible bits out without potentially tearing up Frio’s throat even if Trish feared she’d never get the smell out.

Trish cinched the bag shut and found her voice again.

“I’m…I’m done!”

She called up.

Trish’s expulsion occurred faster than expected. Frio’s stomach lurched around the live human and propelled her and a load of chyme rapidly upwards. Trish’s shriek cut off in his throat.

Frio remained doubled over and coughed the little doctor up in a pile of half digested lunch. He caught his breath, then rolled over onto his side, his collapse like an earthquake.

The faery doctor stared up at the ceiling, panting, gulping in lungfuls of clean air.

Trish had just been in a stomach. In a stomach. In a giant’s bloody stomach.

And she was still alive to hopefully never tell the tale to a living soul.

She shivered in the open air, her whole body soaked and slimy. Trish felt dizzy, overwhelmed.

Shock prevented her from registering when a pair of massive, gentle hands slid beneath her body and lifted her up. Trish’s last view before passing out consisted of two frantic, pale eyes fixed upon her, and a soft, rumbling voice apologizing repeatedly and thanking her in a jumbled mess of words Trish felt too exhausted to make out.

[officialbruciewayne]

Question: could you, in any scenario, find being physically eaten or physically eating another attractive (sexual caniballism has been a hot topic today and Im just so curious about your feelings on the topic)

I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask this topic...

Generally, Brucie Wayne will try anything once, but this truly sounds like it might be something I would try once - because in at least one of these scenarios, I'm snuffed. I've eaten some unusual things, particularly in my youth, but I won't murder another person, so the other scenario is firmly no.

[vermakesthings]

WIP, supernatural world

The story of the first vampire

Oh, Merinthu, oh Merinthu, 

How cruel, a fate bestowed for you,

Your daughter sick, beyond all heal,

Alchemist be, this fate repeal.

You tried all spell, you tried all drought,

You tried your faith, yet all for naught.

At last you turned, your oath released,

And went then south, for god of beast.

There blood you took, from god’s warm corpse,

Returned in swift, towards, Renorps,

There daughter lay in sleep, alive,

so you then rushed, for life you strive.

The blood, it heals, your wife you told,

Though you did fear it’s power’s hold,

Your daughter young, you dared not test,

So upon thyself took in chest.

It burned from start, you screamed and raged,

Your hunger grew, till could not cage,

No food your wife could find would sate,

Your thirst for blood, thy cursed fate.

You held out long, went not insane,

Yet in the end, it was your bane,

Your delay robbed you full of thought,

Your daughter slept, her fate now wrought.

You pounced her, biting her neck, to drink,

The blood desired, your hearts in sync,

As life was drained, your wife was stuck,

Her child’s death, in fear laid struck.

You came to, hunger truly gone,

Lilumia, teeth still held, undrawn,

You felt her warmth begin to fade,

You panic, your blood then flew, and prayed.

Thy blood divine, it healed you full,

Your daughter, teeth in veins, they pull,

The blood you’d drained, returned in whole,

And blood divine, you couldn’t control.

Her blood now heals, by godly might,

And even death, its hold can’t fight.

You heard her heart again, its beat,

Was strong, and fast, its sound so sweet.

Though child life restored, thine wife,

Could see no more than corpse and strife.

She fled thy home, thy life, thy world,

You sought, and found her life unfurled.