#drift vore

[sillyromance]

Good day everyone!

"Darling... Please, hide me...*

Congratulations with 8/8! For today there is Sacura in her human form, resting within her husband Drift's core. I think it's a good opportunity to reveal that she is, actually, the only daughter of Megatron and Alexa. Her hybrid nature has gifted the fem with this unique additional disguise and an ability to switch sizes. And, predicting possible questions - I'll give proper explanation of how she came to life soon enough. I don't think it's a good moment for long lore posts now.

I hope all of you are having fun on this great day; good luck and stay healthy ❤️!

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Desperation vs. Domestication (Pt. 2)

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 4431

Summary: Though you have been lulled into a deep sense of security by Drift's kindness and comfort, you still haven't completely lost the need to be free. A terrible nightmare refuels your desire for escape...but Drift isn't someone who wants to let you go.

HEEHEEHEEHEE I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE A PART 2 OF THIS...so I did. It's because Drift is my all-time favorite Transformer and I absolutely LOVE putting my favorite characters through angst. If you enjoyed reading part 1, then I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated! Enjoy! :D

Here is the link to pt. 1 if you haven’t read it!

Also available to read on AO3!

  Two months later…

  You dream of Earth tonight.

  There are fields; you are standing in one. Long Bermuda grass tickles your ankles with the gentle presence of the planet recognizing its own. The endless green is splattered with occasional droplets of color: pink poppies, yellow sunflowers, marigolds, dandelions. It is warm. There is a slight wind blowing, playing with your hair. You turn your face towards the sunlight and bask in the relief of knowing you are home.

  All of a sudden, you hear a sound. Thumping. Steady, rhythmic. Loud. You feel the wind die down and suddenly the sun is gone, and there is only darkness. A massive shadow blots out all of the light. You see a figure looming over you, red-and-white with bright blue eyes that stare into your soul and make you feel terror.

  You try to run, but find you cannot move your legs. There is nothing you can do when you watch a giant hand reach down in slow motion and pluck you up, holding you between titanic fingers. The monster’s mouth opens, and then you are tumbling down, right into an abyss of metal and isolation. The Earth melts away forever. You are trapped. You are alone.

  Shooting forward out of your nightmare, you hear yourself scream. The squishy floor underneath you makes you lose your footing when you scramble upward in a blind panic and fall into Drift’s stomach wall. Everything moves, the organ grumbling unhappily at you being awake. Your hands scramble at the mesh cables. Little pink bubbles of cybernetic blood pop anxiously beneath their semi-transparent surfaces. The walls close in to squeeze, holding you in a secure hug, attempting to keep you still. But you cannot think. You are scared, and you feel trapped, so you desperately begin to thrash and fight against the stomach.

  Drift’s voice booms above you, panicked. “Little one? Little one?!”

  “Let me go!” you shriek. “Please, letmegoletmegoletmego!”

  The walls loosen up, freeing you. You collapse into the fetal position, gasping while sweat beads your brow and your heart goes crazy.

  Drift presses his hands over his middle. “Little one, little one, shhhh, shh, shh, shh,” he hushes frantically. “Safe, safe…safe, all is safe...no need for fear…”

  Gradually, you calm down. Only when you are no longer trembling does Drift tentatively begin to squeeze you again. In and out, slow kneading, like he’s silently coaxing you to continue breathing at a healthier pace. “Little one…okay?” he asks.

  Your voice quivers. “I-I’m fine. I’m okay. It-It was a bad dream. A nightmare.” You sit upright and lean into the stomach wall. Drift holds you close, the undulating muscle relaxing you with its constant massage. His biolights pulse and flicker, a clear sign of his stress. You woke him up with your screams. It makes you feel bad, so you snuggle his cables further. The robot’s stomach is not a big place, but Drift likes to be conscious of you. The support you provide him in completing this task is obviously appreciated, because he hums softly and pats his hand over where you are.

  There is peace again. Peace and warmth. But you don’t feel the usual safety. There is a lingering pit of dread growing deep within your gut, foul roots clawing their way through your body, leaving you jittery, uneased. Your nightmare is the first one in months, and it’s a sure sign things are not right.

  It has been such a long time since you thought of your possible escape plan. You don’t know how long, but you do know that you can’t be comfortable here anymore. Your mind is sending the signals loud and clear.

  No more stalling, you think to yourself. No more being complacent.

  You are not domesticated yet.

  When Drift lets you out of here…you will go through with the plan to take an escape pod home. For real this time.

  It takes you weeks to perfect your plan. And when you do finally have it all figured out, you come to the conclusion that things may end up being more complicated than you thought. Escaping a spaceship filled with giant alien robots is hard enough, yes. But then there’s the issue of what will happen when you return to Earth. You don’t know how long you’ve been abducted. It could be months. It could be years. What if all of your family and friends are long gone by the time you get home? What if things are so different that you’ve been completely left behind?

  No. You can’t think like that. A sharp patting to your cheeks snaps you out of it. Keep it together. This is the moment you have been waiting for. Regardless of what awaits you on Earth, you will be there to face it.

  You’ve packed everything you own into a small fabric knapsack your mech gifted you during your first days here (Who knew robots are such good knitters?). It’s not much, not much at all: snacks Drift gives you, strange pellets that clean your teeth, three cans of filtered water…but that’s all you really require for the trip you are going to embark on. You don’t believe it will be particularly long. The escape pods need to have some sort of device that allows them to leap through lightyears to their destinations. You believe this because you’ve watched the mothership do it from the observation windows Drift likes to bring you to sometimes. Hyperspace will occasionally be activated, with stars and planets blurring together into dazzling white paint streaks before coming to an abrupt halt in a totally new galaxy.

  Now, do you know how lightjumping works? Absolutely not. Last time you were on Earth, no such human technology had been invented yet. So you don’t exactly know how you’ll get the escape pod to lightjump like the ship does. But you’ll find a way. You have no choice.

  Now for the hard part: getting away from Drift long enough to activate the escape pod and blast away. He’s not going to make it easy for you. Drift doesn’t like letting you out of his sight if you aren’t in his room, and hardly lets you roam free. You’ve spent hours, both within his stomach and out, pondering how to go about this. It’s left you with the agonizing decision that you’ll just have to wing it somehow.

  The door to his room slides open. You’ve been sitting on his berth with your hands beneath your head and one leg crossed over the other, thinking, thinking, thinking, that at first you nearly didn’t hear him come in. You sit up to greet him with more eagerness than you’d like to show. The nightmare didn’t stop your affection for Drift from rearing its persistent head.

  There’s no waiting for him to give you his time today. When he enters the room, his focus is immediately on you with no prior distractions. Drift walks with a spring in his step, his finials perking up like an enthusiastic dog. You notice a small white box he holds in one hand, and think nothing of it. Drift’s room is decorated with countless knickknacks from other planets. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s brought some strange little souvenir home.

  “Hey, big guy,” you murmur happily when he kneels down before you. He settles the box to the side and cups both hands behind you, humming his typical car engine-purr greeting. You hug him when he draws you forth so he can nuzzle his nose into your middle. “I’m guessing you missed me?”

  Drift beep-boops excitedly. He gives you an affectionate tickle to your side, causing you to giggle. Your reaction delights him. He keeps it up, and pretty soon you are laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “D-Drift, s-stop! I-I can’t breathe!”

  He gives you one last light prod, then ends the bout of torture with more cuddles. You recover from the laughter, feeling airy and light like nothing else matters except for the giant robot holding you.

  “Little one,” he coos. “My little one.”

  “Mhm,” you mumble goodnaturedly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m yours.”

  He suddenly looks like he’s remembered something very important, and he straightens, chirping rapidly. You watch as he grabs the white box and, to your surprise, presents it to you. You glance at it, then turn to him. “For me?” you ask, pointing at yourself.

  He chirps again and nods.

  You take it from him and open it with a slight air of confusion, because he’s never given you something like this before. You think it might be a piece of jewelry, or some sort of charm. But what you see inside is neither of those things. You suck in a sharp breath of pure disbelief and go numb.

  It’s a collar. A damn collar. Sleek and narrow, its solid red with a single white stripe circumnavigating it. On one side is a strange symbol of a boxy red robot’s face-the same symbol he has on his chest. These are his colors, you realize. He’s making us match. He wants the other mechs to know that he owns you.

  Drift rumbles expectantly. When you remain frozen, unable to pry your eyes away from the collar, he gently pries it out of your now slightly shaking hands. With extreme carefulness, he clasps it around your neck. It fits comfortably and locks with a quiet click.

  “My little one,” he repeats. “Mine.”

  He’s not trying to scare you. You know he isn’t. Yet your throat is dry, and the snug weight of the collar makes you feel sick.

  You need to get the hell off of this ship.

  You spend the night feverishly trying to break the collar off, working yourself up like a caged animal driven mad by captivity. But no matter how hard you yank at it, it remains stubbornly fast around your neck. You refuse to eat the food given to you and cry yourself to sleep within a very concerned Drift’s belly, who can’t seem to console you no matter how hard he tries.

  Drift doesn’t know what to do with you.

  You’ve been moping ever since he gave you the collar. Over the next few days, any sort of drive to escape has left you. You're depressed and disappointed in him for what he’s done. You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t want to accept any of his gifts. Blanket after pillow after plushie-all made by him, with the crude markings of homemade love-are ignored. You shy away from his touch and reject his attention. When he swallows you at night, you give him no inclination you care. You sit like a stone within him and just…stare off vacantly, unable to ignore the collar around your neck.

  He’s brought you to the ship’s doctor multiple times. On the first trip, the old red medic bot looked you over and finished his checkup with a shrug and dismissive chuff. The second time, he growled at Drift and waved him away. And on the third time, he didn’t even let him through the door. There’s nothing physically wrong with you. But mentally, how could they know? How could he know he’s hurt you? You trusted him to treat you with some level of respect despite your situation, and he had, until now. The collar was your breaking point. There truly is no way for him to ever see you as anything more than a pet, and it hurts you, because by god, you love him.

  “…Little one?”

  Drift calls out to you with a soft, sad tone. You huddle up tighter beneath one of your blankets and give no answer.

  You hear him shift at his desk. There’s silence between the two of you that is not wanted. He heaves a low sigh and tries again. “Little one…please?”

  Damn your heart, you can’t keep giving him the silent treatment when he sounds like he’s about to cry.

  You push the blanket off of your head. Drift slouches in his chair, back bent like an old man’s. His finials are drooping, and the glow from his biolights is dimmer than usual. He’s obviously been letting his personal hygiene go for the sake of finding a way to help you, and it hurts to know he’s in this state because of your shitty attitude towards what he simply sees as a gift. The collar is a curse, but you can’t exactly tell him that, can you? This entire situation is all your fault.

  It's the treacherous part of your mind which attempts to convince you of this. It partially works. Giving in, you sit up slowly, drawing the blanket tightly around your shoulders and tilting your head while giving him a questioning look.

  He’s surprised by your action, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to respond to this extent. But he takes advantage of it. Drift offers you a hopeful smile and picks something up from his desk. He stands and walks to you, going slow. You don’t flinch when he crouches down to your level. The warm light of his eyes leaves a kind feeling on your skin.

  Tentatively, Drift extends his hand. In his palm is a piece of chocolate, one of the many treats he has at his disposal to provide you with when he feels you are being especially good. It’s an olive branch. A reach in the right direction.

  You hesitate…and then you think, Oh, what the hell. Staying mad at Drift when he has no clue he’s done something wrong in the first place won’t get you anywhere. So you accept the candy and take a small bite.

  He sags with relief, exhaust whooshing from his nose as he watches you eat. When you're finished, he moves his hand closer, twining the palm around you and resting the tips of his digits against your head and sides. You hold his index finger, resting your forehead against it and closing your eyes as a sign of trust. But you feel guilty.

  “I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing he won’t understand. But you say it anyway. “I love you. I love you so, so much. But you're destroying me. I can’t stay here anymore.”

  A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t notice it until Drift gently brushes it away.

  “I have to go.” Your voice breaks. “I need to leave. I hope you’ll learn why. And I hope you won’t hate me for it. I-I don’t think I could handle it if you did. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t think I hated you.”

  Drift coos. His reply is indecipherable. You think he’s trying to comfort you…but you’ll never know for sure.

  He doesn’t swallow you tonight. You don’t know why; maybe he thinks you need a break. Maybe he just wants to hold you in a different fashion this time. You stay awake hours after he falls asleep, your little form nestled in the crook of his neck while he snoozes on his stomach with his arms crossed beneath his massive pillow. You peer off into the darkness, listening to his quiet breaths.

  For the longest time, you’ve thought of this room as yours and his. A space the two of you share together. Ours. It's fed into your delusional ideations of a future in which the two of you learn each other’s languages, where you stand on equal ground, you belonging to him and him belonging to you. A future where mechs and humans join hands and say “I see you. I know you. I understand you and you understand me. Neither of us is higher than the other.”

  But it will never happen. The collar around your neck is physical proof. There is no future between the two of you anymore. If you want to be you again…you need to let Drift go.

  You shuffle away from the bot’s neck and stand. The only parts of him that are lit up right now are the red symbol on his chest and the soft blue of his mouth. He’s so peaceful. This giant alien, who you know has fought in many battles from the scars you can see, is soothed by your presence. You, an insignificant little human being. The dynamic is honestly quite hilarious. You're like his very own version of a chihuahua.

 You want to hug his nose, knowing you will never have another chance again. But Drift is a light sleeper, and you're testing the waters enough already. You can’t risk it. It pains you, but you drop your arms and turn away.

  Using the metal ladder he made for you so you’d have easy access to his berth, you climb down and grab your knapsack. Quietly padding across the long expanse of the room, you make it to the door. It senses your presence and slides open. You force yourself not to look back when you walk out.

   You wonder if he will cry for you when he wakes up and finds you gone.

  The spaceship is ominous at night. The only thing you can hear as you traverse the hallways is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You're trying to be quiet; passing by multiple rooms with slumbering bots inside has you holding your breath and then letting it out in a forcefully slow, reedy wheeze. You are, after all, a mouse in a prison filled with cats; slow and steady and silent wins the race.

  You survey the elevator when you get to it, at a loss of how you’ll possibly find a way to operate it due to how small you are. A miracle finds its way to you, however, in the form of a mech. This one you don’t recognize. He has a similar color scheme to Drift, but is noticeably bulkier, with a strange cannon sitting on his right shoulder and a blue eyepiece over the adjacent optic. All of his focus is on the datapad in his hands as he summons the elevator. You wait for the doors to open and for him to step inside before darting after him. Luckily he doesn’t look up once on the short journey. Your cover remains unblown when the doors part again and he heads off. You go in the opposite direction, because like hell are you going to follow the strange robot to someplace where there are probably more strange robots.

  You slip in and out of sight, staying far away from any mechs who are awake. They do not see you, which means you are doing this right-though there are some alarming instances where you think you’ll be caught. One such occurrence happens when a tall, thin blue mech with a chest like the front of a helicopter nearly sees you duck into an open storage room for quick cover. Its single orb ominously scans the darkened room. You watch from beneath a large shelving unit, terrified out of your mind. You don’t move, nor do you make a sound, keeping a shaking hand over your mouth.

  Finally, after what feels like hours, the mech stomps away. You let your head fall forward respitefully.

  You know you're nearing your one-way ticket to Earth when you see bright yellow signs plastered on the walls with loud black alien words telling you to hurry left with the help of large arrows. Escape pod symbols, accompanied by a funny little robot mascot, are the giveaway. You feel a sort of giddy euphoria swell up within you. You're almost there. You're going to escape. You're going to go home. It all seems far too good to be true; sure, you’ve imagined this scenario happening over and over again, but you never really did believe it would happen.

  You pinch your arm multiple times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. This is not in your head. This is happening. You really are going back to Earth.

  Your collar suddenly vibrates. And then it starts to screech.

  You nearly jump out of your own skin. The alarm is loud, piercing, and undeniably going to alert someone to your presence. You slam your fists against it multiple times, but it doesn’t let up. Your heart sinks when the realization of what's going on hits.

  Shit. He put a tracker in it.

  You need to run. You shove yourself forward into a full-on sprint, dashing down the last remainder of this hallway, then turning the corner and seeing the numerous escape pods all lined up in the wall. You choose the first one, grabbing the edge of the circular door and pulling with all of your might. The tendons in your neck strain as you grunt and slowly bring the door back with you. Clamoring in, you give it one last heave before it shuts on its own and seals you inside. You hear the lock click into place. The entire cabin flickers to life, with the lights on and the control panel booting up. As you expected, everything is far too big for you to reach. But it seems you won’t need to. A loud robotic voice emanates from the central console, speaking to you in the native mech language.

  Your collar is still going off. You don’t have a lot of time.

  “I-I can’t understand you!” you yell over the din. “I’m a human, from Earth! I speak English!”

  The voice pauses. Seconds later, to your amazement, it talks, and you can understand. “Language notifications made. Destination updated. Scanning…” A panel on the ceiling pops open, and a blue light filters out, washing over you. “Scanning complete. Species: Homo Sapien. Homeworld: Earth. Milky Way Galaxy. Status: Critically endangered. Suggesting immediate travel to Earth.”

  You clap your hands. “Yes! Yes, that’s it! Earth, set the destination to Earth!”

  “Destination set. Awaiting command to launch LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01.”

  You are about to give the order when something slams against the door. You whirl around, your heart stuttering when you see who’s there. It’s Drift. He’s made it. And he looks horrified. With trembling fingers, he yanks on the handle. When the pod remains fastly shut, he pounds on the circular window with so much force the entire thing shudders and you think he’s going to rip it right off of its hinges. “Little one!” he screams, voice muffled beyond the barrier of glass. “Little one! Open…!” The rest of the sentence comes out as sharp metal shrieks.

  You stand there helplessly. The pod once again inquires for your command, yet you can’t find it within yourself to speak.

  Drift is doing everything he can to get to you. He’s like a rabid beast, clawing at the window, teeth bared in visible frustration. His biolights are going mad when he roars and sends his whole body into the door. This time, it does give a little. You can see some dents in the gray metal.

  This…is a side of Drift you have never seen. It is desperate, vicious. And it terrifies you. You stumble back to the opposite end of the pod and curl up, hugging your knapsack to your chest like a child squeezing their favorite stuffed animal. Drift continues his futile attack on the door, but pauses when he makes eye contact with you. His face falls. His fists relax and slide downward to press palm against the glass.

  He’s quiet as he seems to reflect on how he just presented himself front of you, then whispers heartbrokenly. “...Sorry.” Tears stream down his cheeks. His hot vexation melts away and exposes his remorseful center. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Little one. Y/N.”

  Oh my god.

  All noise ceases when you register what he just said. Your name. He said your name. He’s never done that before. You didn’t think he knew your name.

  He learned to say it. For you.

  Drift whimpers like a kicked dog, moving to crouch lower. “Y/N. Y/N, please. Stay. Stay with me. Please don’t go. I love you.”

  You’ve changed his life. You don’t need to be told this. You know you’ve brought him a sense of joy he hasn’t felt in years. You didn’t come here of your own free will. But you freely chose to love him. You gave yourself up and became his everything while he became yours. Isn’t he your home? Isn’t he the one who saved you? Can you really leave someone who cares about you so much?

  Your legs move on their own accord. Your heart beats with his and you take tentative steps towards the door. Drift twitters and gives you an encouraging nod, gesturing for you to keep walking.

  Why do you want to leave him so badly? Why would you want to throw away this perfect life?

  Your little human hands come to rest right over his massive robotic ones. You two are separated, but you think you can feel the warmth coming from him. Drift bonks his forehead against the window anticipatingly. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on. It’s…okay. You're okay. Please.”

  Your hands are human. You will never see another pair again if you return to him.

  Your life is not supposed to be perfect. A human’s life is messy, and disastrous, and chaotic, and beautiful. His life is too, but not in the same way as yours.

  “Goodbye, Drift,” you murmur, voice breaking. “LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01…take me to Earth.”

  The escape pods hums and rumbles. “Command accepted,” it announces. “Preparing ejection in three…two…one.”

  The last thing you see and hear before the pod lurches forward and rockets out of its dock is Drift’s agonized expression and his wrenching wail.

  Your vessel speeds away. You get a fantastic view of the ship in all of its stunning glory. It felt so gigantic when you were inside, but from out here, you can fully comprehend its overwhelming proportions. You watch it rapidly shrink as you gain distance from it, until it's just another speck of light in the universe. And when you can’t even see that anymore, you allow yourself to collapse against the floor eagles-spread. You gaze up at the ceiling, feeling surprisingly hollow. There is no victorious sense of triumph, no excitement to return home. You don’t even know where home is anymore. Somehow, after everything you’ve gone through, you’ve come out even more lost than you already were.

  The waterworks start shortly after the escape pod jumps into hyperspace. Heaving sobs, messy tears, you lie there and weep to the stars, not noticing when your collar finally stops beeping.

[lesbianoms]

☠️🫧🤰

Crazy how an entire person can be slowly melted down, and emulsified into a gastric slush within my bubbling cauldron before being refined into a grotesque, and greasy belch that blasts outta my slimy maw 🥴💕

Beautiful lil audio edit done by @/ChibiEmiko on Twitter!

[urfavoritewriter]

Hardcore Gym Spotter

A commission for a user here on Tumblr who wishes to remain anonymous. Content: Male Pred, Unspecified Prey, Workout, Gym Vore, Open-Ended (Fatal or Endo, up to the reader.) Oral Vore.

Zane leaned back against the soft leather of his couch, one muscular arm draped casually across the back, the other hand gently caressing his round belly. Despite his chiseled pecs, strong biceps, and sculpted legs, his midsection had always been a bit softer, a stark contrast to the hard muscles that surrounded it. Now, however, it was protruding even more than usual, swollen with its latest addition.

A wicked grin stretched across Zane's rugged face as he felt the person inside him squirming around. "Mmm, someone's lively in there. You know, I hope you're not too tired," he murmured, pressing down and feeling a distinct push back against his palm. "Because today is leg day. Lots of squats and lunges in our future."

His fingers drifted across the taut surface of his belly, tracing the subtle outlines of the person trapped within. "Can you feel that?" he whispered, his voice dripping with sultry mischief. "Every flex, every movement. And trust me, after today's workout, you're going to feel every contraction and squeeze."

Zane's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "Imagine, with each deep squat, my abs pressing tighter and tighter around you. Every lunge, every step on the stairmaster, the rhythm of my body working to its limit while you're just... nestled snugly inside, feeling it all."

He chuckled, the sound low and enticing. "And after the gym? When I'm all sweaty and spent?" Zane continued, leaning down and pressing a teasing kiss to his own distended abdomen. "I'll hit the showers, and you'll feel the heat, the water cascading over us. Bet you never imagined a spa day quite like this."

Drawing in a deep breath, Zane's belly rose and fell dramatically, causing the captive inside to shift and adjust. "You'll have the best seat in the house," he promised with a sly wink. "Every flex, every drop of sweat, every single burn of my muscles. You'll experience it all... up close and personal."

A low, resonant burp rumbled from Zane's throat, a small testament to his recent indulgence. The sound seemed casual, nonchalant even, but its implications were far from ordinary. He smirked, pressing a hand to his belly which rippled in response. The contained person felt it all — the vibrations from the burp, the warmth of his hand, and the incessant motions as Zane went about his routine.

Zane reached for his clothes, laid out in preparation for his gym session. He pulled on a form-fitting charcoal grey tank top that clung to his pecs and biceps, highlighting their sculpted nature. But as the fabric traveled downward, it stretched taut over his distended stomach, the material slightly translucent, emphasizing its swollen state. Each twitch and undulation of the imprisoned person caused the shirt to ripple, offering tantalizing hints of the drama unfolding beneath.

Zane then grabbed his shorts, dark blue and made of that perfect moisture-wicking fabric ideal for a good workout. As he stepped into them, pulling them up, they hugged his sculpted thighs and calves, accentuating every ripple of muscle. The waistband sat just beneath the bulge of his belly, almost as if presenting it proudly.

With his gym bag slung over one shoulder, Zane headed out, making his way to his preferred workout destination. As he entered the gym, the ambient sounds of clanking weights, muffled music, and the distant hum of treadmills greeted him. Those who noticed him, whether envious or admiring, couldn't help but be drawn to the pronounced curve of his midsection, a stark contrast to his otherwise athletic frame.

Each step Zane took caused a slight jiggle to his belly, a sensual dance of flesh and fabric. He made his way to the free weights section, picking up a set of dumbbells. As he began his bicep curls, the muscles in his arms bulged and contracted rhythmically, veins surfacing with each repetition. The tension in his forearms and the slow, deliberate movements exuded raw power.

Moving on to the squat rack, Zane positioned himself, the barbell resting securely on his upper back. As he descended into each squat, his thighs tensed, showcasing their defined musculature. But the real show was his belly. With each squat, it pressed forward, stretching his tank top further, the confined person feeling the increased pressure with every downward movement.

Positioning himself beneath the squat rack, Zane took a moment to settle, feeling the cool metallic touch of the barbell on the muscular expanse of his upper back. Flexing his hands around the grips, he took a deep, steadying breath, the expanse of his chest heaving. Then, with calculated precision, he pushed upwards, lifting the weight free from its resting pegs.

His first motion was careful, almost delicate, as he adjusted his stance. Feet shoulder-width apart, he directed his gaze forward, allowing a slight arch to his back. And then he began to lower himself, the descent a deliberate ballet of muscle tension and control. As he went down, the captive inside his belly felt a pronounced tightening. This wasn't just the sensation of being pushed and squeezed; this was an intense, all-encompassing pressure.

With the bulge of his belly positioned more prominently between his thighs due to his stance, every descent pressed the trapped person firmly against Zane’s powerful inner thighs. The heat there was more pronounced, and every single muscle contraction resonated through the person within, like waves crashing against a resilient shore.

After completing his reps, Zane took a brief pause, tilting his head back, a sheen of sweat on his brow. He could feel the lively shifting and prodding from his midsection, the protestations of his meal apparent.

"You feel that?" Zane whispered breathlessly, a devilish grin tugging at his lips. "Every time I go down, you're squeezed right there, between muscle and muscle. Tight fit, huh?" The teasing in his voice was palpable, his words dripping with wicked playfulness.

After giving his legs a brief rest, Zane approached the stairmaster. Climbing aboard, he set a moderate pace to start. As he began to ascend the virtual steps, each upward motion created a rhythmic bounce in his belly. The individual inside felt as though they were being lulled and jostled by the movements, a consistent rise and fall, much like the ebb and flow of a tempestuous sea. The relentless motion combined with the already tight confines meant there was no respite from the sensations.

A few minutes into his routine, as Zane felt the burn in his calves and the steady thud of his heart in his chest, he couldn't help but tease his captive companion further.

“Ever been on a roller coaster?” he quipped, smirking as he felt another flurry of movement from within. “This must feel like the wildest ride, huh? Only difference? This ride doesn’t end.” The sly chuckle that followed spoke of a man completely in his element, reveling in the sensations and the wicked game he played.

With sweat forming droplets that ran down the contours of his sculpted chest and neck, Zane decided to challenge himself further. He set his sights on the deadlift platform. The flat, polished surface gleamed under the gym’s overhead lights, and in front of it, a loaded barbell awaited him.

Approaching the platform, Zane bent at the waist, positioning himself. His hands gripped the bar firmly, one in an overhand and the other in an underhand grip. The sheer weight he was attempting, combined with the added mass of his current 'passenger,' made the task all the more daunting. Yet, the spark in his eye was one of sheer determination.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself. With a grunt of exertion, Zane began to lift. As he straightened, the strain evident on his face, his belly shifted. The pressure from inside was immense, the trapped person being compressed between Zane's contracting abs and the weight of the barbell he was lifting.

The ascent was slow, methodical. Every inch Zane raised that bar, his stomach tightened just a bit more around his captive. Once he was fully upright, holding the barbell aloft, he took a moment, basking in the accomplishment.

Feeling the insistent push and prods from within, Zane chuckled, his breath ragged from the exertion. “Hey there,” he panted slightly, “bet you never thought you'd be my personal weighted belt, huh? Gotta admit, you're making these lifts all the more challenging, in the best way." A pause as he set the barbell down with a resounding clang. Wiping his brow, he continued, "You're my ultimate spotter, you know? Making sure I really feel every rep.”

With a sly wink, Zane continued, "Best part? You're the kind of added weight that sticks around." He chuckled, relishing in the casual banter even as he relished the dual strain of workout and digestion. The atmosphere was thick with a mix of hard work, accomplishment, and the intimate, teasing connection between predator and prey.

Post-workout exhaustion settled over Zane, but the adrenaline rush of his intense session still coursed through his veins. In a quiet corner of the gym, away from the primary hustle and bustle, he found a padded bench. He sank down onto it, legs spread wide to accommodate his well-earned muscularity and the notable bulge in his midsection. The weight of his meal settled between his thighs, the form of the person inside him clearly discernible against the tight fabric of his shorts.

Sweat, a testament to the sheer effort of his workout, glistened on Zane's skin. It trickled in rivulets down the contours of his muscles, making his tan skin shine under the fluorescent lights of the gym. He wiped his brow with the back of his forearm, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Reaching down, Zane's fingers traced the curve of his belly, rubbing gently, feeling the occasional squirm and press from the one inside. It was a sensation unlike any other, a unique mix of dominance, satisfaction, and a twisted sort of intimacy.

Leaning forward slightly, Zane murmured, his voice a low, teasing rumble, "Honestly, I'm impressed. Didn't think you'd hold on for this long after what I put you through. But don't get too cozy. Just because you survived today doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet." He smirked, relishing in the power dynamics of the moment. "Who's to say I won’t drag you in here again for another round of heavy lifting? One more gym day inside this belly of mine. Hell, you might just become my permanent workout buddy... from the inside."

His chuckle resonated, the vibrations palpable to his captive, the sentiment clear: their fate was entirely in Zane's hands.

[canine-chaos]

Sleeping inside Logan's belly omg

Just had this thought; can you imagine how nice sleeping inside or beside (when he's digesting another prey) him would be ?

If you couldn't sleep he'd have you swallow you down nice and content in his stomach, your weight inside him giving him somewhat of a comfort when he lays on his back, hand caressing the mount as he slowly drifts off to sleep and the only thing you can hear is his steady breathing.

!! Hard vore ahead !!

But also sleeping beside him whilst he's digesting a prey would be so good - just imagine having him lay on his stomach for once squeezing the person inside as you get to watch him digest with his stomach growling and churning, and small burps escaping him then and when.

You could run your hand down the sides of his big gut feeling the struggles slowly turn into sloshing and making his belly so full of liquid moving inside and weighing him down. Sometimes he'd catch you giving him belly rubs when you can't sleep and all he'd do is pretend to be asleep and enjoy your touch (he couldn't hide his stupid smirk though, knowing you care so much)

All the noises from inside him, when he'd finally digested the containings in his big gut. Sighing and moaning lightly as your fingertips would press into his heavy tummy.

[thefanciestborrower]

The Devouring of Prometheus

Ohh boy this fic has been over a year in the making and by golly am I proud of it. It was mostly an attempt to imitate Mary Shelley’s writing style while adding more classic lit vore into the world cause oh boy do we need it. This fic is a little darker than my usual fluffy stuff because. You know. It’s Frankenstein. But everything is still safe despite what Victor thinks. Anyways, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Warnings: Contains soft, safe, unwilling vore, mentions of digestion, mentions of dying, mentions of cannon character death, minor injury, and vomit

Characters: Victor Frankenstein and the Creature

Word Count: 2,830

Mankind has no greater fear than that of being devoured. It is an instinctual fear, engrained deep within our very beings from the moment we are born, as it is in every living being, and yet it is perhaps one of the most uncommon fears to experience in its true, unaltered form. We are quite familiar with the notion of being killed and eaten by a wild beast, since such a thing, while not terribly common in the more civilized parts of the world, is often talked of in books and by explorers returning from long voyages to strange, wild lands. It is a threat to be sure, but perhaps not the most fear inspiring one. A hungry lion might indeed pounce upon you with his teeth and claws bared as if to shred you to ribbons while you lay awake in agony, but in truth he is far more merciful than even most men and will end you swiftly with a bite to the neck before he ever starts to feed. The fear of being eaten in this way, then, is diluted by the promise of a swift death at the claws of a creature who bore you no more malice than you do a butchered duck. 

The terror of being consumed lies not in the act of consumption, but in the method. Stories full of giants and ogres who devour men whole and alive fill the countryside and take captive the minds of all who hear them, filling their dreams with images of gnashing teeth and slavering mouths, capable of sending a grown man down, kicking and screaming, in a single swallow. I must confess I never heard much of these tales growing up, aside from a few Clerval was so fond of telling, and when they did reach my ears, I simply scoffed, laughing such frightening images away in the clear light of day when nothing could seem more ridiculous. They were children’s tales, I thought, simply meant to frighten and entertain, for nothing, man or beast, could swallow whole a living man. Oh, how I wish I had been right. 

He came for me in the night. I was asleep, or nearly so, when a sudden noise at my window startled me awake. At first I assumed it to be the scratching of a branch or perhaps even some night creature making its rounds through the garden outside. After all, I was far more unfamiliar with the Oxford landscape than my dear friend Clerval, who had spent much of his afternoon exploring the grounds, so I felt there to be no need for concern. Indeed, I had nearly turned over to drift back to sleep when I saw his eyes. Those wretched, sunken, yellow eyes staring as if into my very soul through the dusty window I had neglected to lock in my naivety. I might have screamed had fear not grasped my throat and strangled my voice, and though I longed to run, terror turned my legs to lead and forced me to watch as the fiend pried open the window with a delicate ease that seemed almost laughable compared to the rest of his hulking mass. I pulled my sheet up to shield my chest like a child might, entertaining fantasies that perhaps this was simply a nightmare, and if I remained still in my bed then he would be unable to harm me, but when he began to climb through the window with the elegance of a lion stalking his prey, eyes never once leaving me, panic settled over my heart and I realized this was no mere conjuring of an overworked mind. The beast was here, looming over me in my chambers as I trembled in bed with naught but a thin sheet and even thinner night clothes to protect me. 

“Devil! What do you want from me!” I cried at last, terror loosening her claws from my throat. “I have not forgotten our agreement, so why do you insist on tormenting me so!” 

I received no reply, the beast more than content to simply stare at my trembling form. Perhaps he enjoyed how weak I must have appeared before him as his eyes flicked over me, almost sizing me up for reasons I could never have comprehended in that moment. Cold and yellow as they were, I could see an inkling of some mysterious emotion behind those eyes, but it’s identity I couldn’t say. Nor did I care. My thoughts were quickly preoccupied as he advanced upon me, padding forwards like some great and terrible cat, until he stopped just shy of the side of my bed, so close I could have reached out and touched him. 

Again, I saw that strange emotion flicker behind his dead eyes, but before I had time to ponder it he wrapped his hands around my chest and lifted me from the safety of my bed with terrifying ease, like one might lift a small child or a doll, and while I screamed and writhed in his hideous grasp, his hold only tightened. My ribs creaked and complained under the pressure and my cries became strangled and choked. With a ghastly popping sound he opened his grotesque mouth, jaw hanging at an angle too wide for any human to achieve, and to my upmost horror he quickly stuffed my head inside with the terrifying efficiency of a ravenous beast. The slimy muscle of his tongue lapped against my face and my body convulsed in disgust as I desperately fought not to be sick. Revolting as my situation was, I did not wish to add my own vomit to the mix, even if it might have disgusted the fiend enough to free me. 

I could see nothing but darkness, each desperate gasp for oxygen only supplying me with the barest sliver of foul air. Teeth ringed my neck like a terrible collar, and for a moment I entertained ideas of those teeth, the very same I had picked and sorted by hand, crashing together to sever my head from my body like some terrible executioner. Before my thoughts could spiral much more in this direction, his grip changed and I was suddenly shoved against the slick, fleshy opening of his throat. My blood curdled and, with a sudden, crushing pressure, my head was crammed downwards in the most painful manner which caused me to cry out in despair. My skull felt as though it would shatter, and I screamed a horrible, terrible shriek of agony and terror as my shoulders were crushed down after me, the tight gullet of the beast threatening to break them into splinters. My vision swam, stars of pain and lack of breath sparking and dancing before my eyes, and though no light followed me into my hellish prison, I could still see the blackest pitch wavering at the edge of my vision, threatening to drown me in its inky embrace. For a moment I wished it would, if only to keep me from the terrible suffering I knew lay before me, but fate is a cruel mistress and before I could sink into that comforting ocean of darkness a terrible pressure bloomed upon the crown of my head and forced me into an open pocket of stinking, putrid air. 

Coughing and gaging I struggled to draw even a single breath. My ribs, now horribly compressed, creaked and shuttered terribly under the pressure of the creature’s throat, and though my legs still flailed outside, and my hands desperately scrambled for a hold on what I felt to be his chin, I did not dare move the length of my compressed torso for fear of inflicting more damage upon myself. Another painful swallow jolted me down, my face jamming roughly into what I presumed to be the bottom of the creature’s dreadful stomach, and the grotesque flesh not only yielded to accept my presence, but did so with an almost pleased sounding groan, if stomachs can be pleased, as if I really were simply a morsel of food to be consumed and forgotten. The sound filled my heart with a terror I’ve never known, and I cried out, though my voice was quickly silenced by the slick flesh as more of my body was squeezed through that terrifically tight ring of muscle and forced to bend and twist to fit my new prison like some sort of contortionist. 

I know not how long it took the devil to consume me: the darkness of my surroundings and constant pain dulled my senses and left me disoriented to the point where I no longer could even tell up from down. I remember no longer feeling the cold air on my body after some time, my entire being now encased in sweltering heat, and searing pain as my legs were crushed down against my ribs. Finally, it was all over. My entire body had been fully compacted into the creature’s stomach, and although this new development was arguably a much worse position than my previous one, I was far too preoccupied with gulping down precious lungfuls of oxygen to care.

Then, all at once, the reality of my situation came crashing down upon me and with the fervor of a cornered beast I began to lash out and fight, twisting and turning in the confined space in hopes of causing my captor at least the slightest bit of discomfort. 

“Fiend! Devil! Release me at once!” I panted, gnashing my teeth in fear and anger. “This is no way to treat any man, let alone your maker!”

I had no doubt that he could hear my cries and feel my struggles, confined as I was, and yet no answer came. Despite the nature of my location, I was completely and utterly alone, for what man pays attention to his food after he’s eaten it. Again, I tried to call out, to plead for release as I fought against the smothering flesh, and again I was ignored, save for a light pressure against my back from which I hastily jerked away. It was his hand; I knew it instinctively. The brute was no doubt relaxing after so fine a feast of human flesh, and that touch was nothing more then the satisfied gloating of a predator now sated with a filling meal that would last him far longer than any morsel of bread or wine. I was merely something to be enjoyed, digested, and forgotten.

 How many more, I wondered, would be lost in the same way once I had perished. Clearly my current location indicated my captor had grown fond of the taste of human, and with a heart wrenching shudder I suddenly realized I had no way of knowing wether I was the first victim of the monster’s appetite, or if he had already glutted himself with other gentle country folk, just as he had done to me, and I was now resting in their grave. The thought was too much for my already distraught and troubled soul, and the disgust which filled me suddenly became too overwhelming to sustain. With a thick heave I proceeded to retch onto myself, my sick mixing with the beast’s own bile, and I sobbed bitterly for my home. 

“Oh, my dear mountains and precious lake. Will I truly never again delight in your sweet air and radiant beauty? Am I to perish so far from all that is fair and wholesome, without even the cold stars to bare witness to my demise?” I lamented; my voice thick with the grief of a man who believes he is to die isolated from everything he once held dear. 

The spongy flesh seemed to mute my voice effectively as a heavy curtain might, and my words fell upon deaf ears, for no reply came from my creation. My captor. My killer. Was I really to meet my end as nothing more than a meal? My last breath tainted by the stench of bile and vomit? The pressure to my back returned, and although the touch revolted me, I was far too exhausted from my fear and the quickly thinning oxygen to do more than twitch in protest. What difference would it make anyways, my fate was already sealed.

Each breath I drew grew more ragged and gasping with every passing second, my panic having done nothing but quickly use up what little air I had in the stale cell, and in some fever, I realized that, although my air was quickly thinning, I had not yet begun to feel the slightest tingle of digestion. Oh, what sweet twist of fate was this! I still would meet my end as nothing more than a morsel of food this was true, but I would be long since unconscious and perhaps even suffocated before acids truly began to work on me and thus spared the sensation of digesting alive. It was a small assurance, but so consumed was I by grief and terror of my fate that even the small mercy of a painless death brought me comfort. It was more than a man like me deserved after all I’d done. The innocent blood on the creature’s hands stained mine as well, and I thought bitterly of poor darling little William and dear Justine. Their blood has been spilt on my account, and yet, while their deaths had been horrific tragedies, I took solace in knowing they had left the world far quicker than I would, and that I would be seeing them again soon.

My vision swam before me, and with one last shuddering sigh I slumped against the slick walls, no longer attempting to catch my breath, for what would be the point in trying to breathe when there is no air left to fill my lungs. The stomach clenched around me with a disgusting squelch, smothering and squeezing my helpless form as it worked to knead what I presumed to be caustic acids into my sodden clothing and soft flesh, preparing for the undoubtably difficult task of liquifying my un-masticated body. With a gasping, barely audible sob I pressed a trembling hand out against my churning prison walls, cursing my creation and praying my end would be swift. Then the darkness engulfed me, and I knew no more.

Due to the circumstances in which I had fallen unconscious I fully expected to never wake again, so when I started awake some unknown amount of time later in the very bed I had been snatched out of, I could seldom comprehend what was happening. My first thought was that my horrendous experience had been naut but a dream; an apparition brought upon me by the dreadful task I knew I would soon be required to complete. Then I became aware of the disgusting film of sticky, foul smelling sick coating my body and the dull, yet throbbing pain in my ribs, and my blood ran cold. It had been no dream. My creation truly had assaulted me in the night, swallowed me whole and alive, and, by some miracle, vomited me back out before his digestive system could process me. In fact, aside from my ribs, which were badly bruised, I appeared whole and unharmed. Not even a drop of acid had singed my clothes, and my skin was fair and unblemished as it had always been. I pressed a hand to my cheek as if to make certain of my unharmed state, and then, to my own surprise, I began to laugh. It was not a mirthful laugh, but rather one of incredulous shock and relief as I grasped at my warm and unharmed skin. So certain had I been that those final moments filled with slimy blackness and foul reeking air inside the creature would be my last that the cold air of my room and the sting of my nails against my face might well have been gifts from Heaven itself. Even now I marvel at my incredible escape and wonder what could possibly have prompted the monster to give up as filling a meal as I surely must have been. I do not think I shall ever know, but judging from the healthy nature which I possessed upon waking, I can only assume he realized he could not process me as he intended and his body expelled me, though wether such an expulsion was voluntary on his part I still could not say. Nonetheless I knew I was no doubt incredibly fortunate to have survived such an encounter and my resolve had the been strengthened. Where before I had postponed my promise, I vowed to not do so again, for who knew how long the wretched beast would be content to wait and leave me and others be. As soon as I was able, I would set to work creating another who would contain his terrible urges and put this dreadful encounter behind me forever. 

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #52 — The DJD Once Again Prove to Be an HR Nightmare

Ratchet and Drift, looking fresh as hell in their matching paint jobs, stand on the cliff they made their cool entrance on last issue, as they snipe at each other over whether or not Drift personally knows the DJD. Considering how Tarn and Friends had a space-cocaine induced freakout over seeing Drift on the quantum duplicate Lost Light, they may want to talk a little quieter, especially with the face Helex is making.

You better watch out, Ratchet— this man's going to do Sakamoto-got-all-the-way-to-pencils shit to you!

The Pet takes the opportunity presented by our recently returned newlyweds being too busy flirting to pay attention to the fight at hand, leaping to chew on Ratchet's head. Luckily, Ten is an ally, even when he’s been beat to shit, and punches the shitty little Pomeranian into the air. Kaon, card-carrying freak and dog dad, takes this abject display of animal abuse about as well as he can.

Ratchet, having his gun eaten by the mouth pervert, is beginning to worry that he, his rich boytoy, and a mostly out of commission Ten might be sliiiiiiiiightly outnumbered against a dozen Decepticons, two of whom belong to the Super Murder Death Squad. Drift, after a bit of needling, heelies a dude’s face off, jumps into the air, does a bunch of sick flips, blocks a laser with a sword in such a way that it looks like he got shot in the dick, and then lands, like, 70 feet away to scoop up the Pet and threaten to chop its head off if Helex doesn’t stop trying to vore his boyfriend.

Kaon, #1 dog dad, orders everyone to fall back. Helex, who has Ratchet like 70% inside his smelting chamber by this point, can’t believe that Kaon’s ruining the fun. Helex releases Ratchet, letting him crowd onto Drama Point with Drift and most of Ten, as the Decepticons circle them. Drift, unfortunately, didn’t think past doing sweet flips to show off after his sabbatical from the comic run, and they’re back in the same situation they arrived to, but now one of them is holding a crusty little dog.

Then a platform descends from the sky, and we see what Ravage has been up to.

Grand theft auto!

Yes, it turns out that this cat can drive, and well enough to get the boys up and out of danger, though Ten’s size means that the lovebirds have to dangle off of his remaining arm. Drift still hasn’t put down the Pet. Sure hope that thing’s been socialized to cats.

Oh, who am I kidding? Kaon wouldn’t have bothered.

Speaking of Kaon, he looks like he’s about to cry, because someone’s kidnapped his princess baby angel, and Helex doesn’t even CARE, the heartless bastard, as he orders the other Decepticons to fire on the shuttle. They, of course, hit it, as there’s at least ten of these guys firing, and they’re all decently tall. The shuttle begins to lose altitude, and Ravage, who does not have traditional hands and is currently using his tail to man the control stick, attempts to crash as close to the “fortress” as possible.

Meanwhile, over at Megatron’s plinth, we get back to that whole thing where he surrendered himself to Tarn. Tarn, feeling an excuse to monologue coming on, says that he’s well aware of Megatron’s new schtick, and he’s not a huge fan of it. Megatron clarifies that he wishes to give himself up so that the rest of the Lost Light crew stranded on this planet might live, because this is his fault to begin with. Tarn agrees, reminding him that he paid for Tarn’s plastic surgery. Megatron states that he only brought Tarn to his side to hurt “someone”.

Three guesses who Megatron could have possibly hurting by bringing Tarn over to the Decepticons, and the first two don’t count.

Megatron thinks that by bumming around space on a borderline vacation, he’s returned to who he used to be (maybe he got his teaching license, who knows) and that the war was a waste of time. Tarn gets kind of intense here, because if Megatron wasted his life, what does that make Tarn? Tarn, who has decorated his home with nothing but Decepticon symbols? Tarn, who has had corpses nailed to his wall for the last couple million years? Tarn, who wears a fuckoff stupid mask every single day of his life, even while eating and trying to kill himself with space meth cut with time travel and gas station dick pills? Also, what about all the other guys who died trying to realize Megatron's ideals? What about the little guys, the cogs that made the machine run? What about Steve from accounting, whose husband left him, because he was too busy trying to balance the budget on Megatron's body remodels and Optimus Prime punching bags that also doubled as body pillows to come home? What about Steve, huh?

Megatron basically regrets everything he’s ever done, not that Tarn cares. Megatron then reveals that whole thing where Rewind tried to retroactively kill him as an infant, and how he sort of wished it had worked.

Tarn starts beating the shit out of Megatron before the guy can start going on about how his parents are Brainstorm and Whirl, though Tarn promises that this is just a healthy dose of tough love, as surely the wimp before him isn’t actually who Megatron is. Megatron doesn’t fight back, instead just staring sadly at the Autobot badge Tarn slapped off of him. This is really starting to piss Tarn off, as he was really hoping to beat some of the fire back into his former mentor and idol. This is when he starts trying to choke Megatron, even though their species doesn’t breathe. Still, I’m sure Tarn’s stiletto nails hurt something fierce.

Megatron then recalls his conversation with Velocity, and states that if the fool’s energon DID alter his personality, it was probably for the best, and he wouldn’t want to go back. Tarn, who has based his entire selfhood on the thing that Megatron threw away to live out his probation on a cruise ship, takes this statement with all the tact and level-headedness we’ve come to know him for.

Tarn is just one more double fusion cannon blast to the chest away from smiting Megatron utterly, and he’s fully committed to doing so. However, he gets distracted by the sound of Elton John’s “The Bitch is Back” coming from across the field.

WHO LET THIS MOTHERFUCKER OUT OF HELL

Anyway, it looks like Ravage can, in fact, drive pretty well, as the shuttle did crash pretty close to the “fortress”. Swerve, who still really wants to make up for his shitty boss behaviors and also accidentally dragging Ten into a microcosm of hell, lets Ten know that they saw his floor graffiti, and that it might actually work. Magnus, who still has his arm off, does his best to not kick Swerve across the room as he scurries underfoot, as he drags Ten inside the building.

Skids intercepts Ratchet to welcome him back, and also ask how the hell he knew to come to Necroworld. Apparently he and Drift had received a call from the handy dandy phone that he had given First Aid, who First Aid had then regifted to Velocity, just in case some bullshit happened. Velocity’s introduction to Ratchet is rough, as she manages to call him grumpy, old, and stubborn as a mule in the span of about fifteen seconds. Ratchet is mostly concerned with the fact that the Lost Light replaced him so soon after his return. Nobody tell him about Velocity’s track record with the medical exams, he might just shoot off into space to beat First Aid to a pulp for leaving her by herself.

Over in what might be a closet, Rodimus runs across Drift sitting in the dark and sharpening one of his swords. Drift seems to have used his exile to remember that he does, in fact, have some semblance of self-respect, as he doesn’t immediately forgive Rodimus for throwing him off the ship that he paid for, only to have given himself up as the real culprit behind the Overlordening, like, a week later, thus negating Drift’s sacrifice, and then never coming to find him, despite the fact that they���re supposedly friends, and, again, the ship is in Drift’s name, as was the crew’s allowance money. How the Lost Light has survived financially without Drift is unknown.

Rodimus knows that he sucks and is the worst, but he was really worried that Drift wouldn’t like him anymore, so he’d sort of been kicking the issue of “finding my ex-TIC to tell him he got publicly humiliated for nothing” down the road, to the point where Ratchet had gotten sick of it and went to solve the problem himself.

Of course, the meta reason for Drift not being found was so that Shane McCarthy could have his OC back, as well as Ratchet, for the miniseries Transformers: Drift— Empire of Stone, well known for being sort of silly and introducing the phrase “be shoosh” to Drift’s lexicon. In it, Ratchet found Drift traipsing around the edge of the galaxy being a neutral (in terms of war) hero to organic species affected by Decepticon aggressions, before crashing on a planet where Drift, back when he was “Deadlock”, had found a mystical stone army, one that Gigatron (a dude who totally isn’t anime Megatron) wanted to harness the power of, so that the Decepticons might claim victory over their enemies. Hellbat, Gigatron’s second in command, had gone mad doing nothing but killing over millions of years, and had been modifying the stone army in secret to do his bidding so he could "kill everything". Then the stone army woke up, Hellbat died, Gigatron died, and Ratchet went to take Drift to get detailed, because he looked like he'd been ridden hard and put away wet.

Also, if you think about it, having two former high-ranking Decepticons turning to the Autobot side being on the Lost Light’s high command might have been too many redundancies to make Megatron’s arc stand out. Perhaps, had Megatron not been added to MTMTE’s roster so late in the game, Rodimus WOULD have gone looking for Drift, finding him just in time for the DJD to catch wind that they hadn’t actually super nightmare death murdered Deadlock after all.

Drift, who can’t say no to Rodimus's puppydog face, lets Rodimus sit with him on the floor, as he apologizes for the fact that by coming here, Drift and Ratchet have unwittingly signed up for Tarn’s Political Theory and Dismemberment Slam Poetry Night, but he mega-promises that they’ll come up with something together to get through this. Drift appreciates the sentiment, but knows that Rodimus is just saying this to make him feel better.

Back at the worst fan club meetup in the galaxy, Tarn elbows Overlord in the throat and tells him to fuck off. Overlord tells him that he knows Tarn never finished his degree and only acts like an academic for the aesthetic. Tarn transforms to shoot him while reminding Overlord that at least Megatron’s spoken to him in the last few thousand years. The two duke it out with their tank modes, Overlord KRUMPing all over Tarn, before the theatre kid kicks him off and questions why exactly Overlord is even alive, given that he chainsawed his head off last year. No word on if he’s bothered to ask this same question about 75% of the people he’s here to super murder.

Overlord simply states that someone found him floating out in space and fixed him up, because it turns out that they both wanted to go after Megatron and kill his ass dead, because Overlord is sort of sick of not getting the attention he so obviously deserves. When Tarn, ever the opportunist, attempts to make a team up deal, Overlord tells him to shut up.

And then they realize they lost the old man they were fighting over.

Great work, fellas.

Over with the Autobots (and Cyclonus), Rewind’s outside, looking at that memorial to the disappeared and trying to figure out why the Necrobot laid out the names in the way that he did. He’s currently near the top, where you can see most of Roller’s name, someone whose name ends in “gator”, and Dreamwave Production’s smoldering corpse, which makes me wonder if Alex Milne ever did get all the money he was owed from his work with them. Rewind, who last dealt with the DJD not even a year ago, is trying really, really hard to not think about how many needles they’re going to jam into Chromedome’s eyes this go around.

Of course, Nautica, who has come out to find Rewind, doesn’t give a shit about Rewind’s PTSD. She wants relationship advice! She’d ask Chromedome, but apparently he’s taking a nap, still worn out from stabbing Tailgate in the brain after he rainbow-exploded all over the ship. Which happened months ago.

You know, at the rate he’s been going, Chromedome probably wouldn’t have lived too far past sunset anyhow.

Anyway, Nautica wants to know if, on Cybertron, you have to be besties before you can get hitched, because that’s how it works on some of the other colonies. She specifies that this ISN'T how it works on Caminus, which is good, given how problematic that would be, considering you need to be best friends with someone by the time you're five weeks old, and there's no telling if they're cool with platonic polyamory. Rewind informs her that it’s either one or the other on Cybertron, no double-dipping, and god help you if it’s a situationship. Nautica is asking this because she’s realized that she can’t waffle about on committing anymore, seeing as she’s probably going to die in the next hour or so, and she’d rather use that time to enter a queer-platonic partnership than get her face fixed.

Back at the Peaceful Tyranny, Tarn has, in fact, managed to bring Overlord to reason, much to Deathsaurus’s confusion and derision, if his squiggle face is anything to go by. Overlord, smug as fuck, informs Deathsaurus that in exchange for his compliance, Tarn has agreed to let him personally murder Megatron while everyone watches, because surely Tarn couldn’t actually kill his idealogical idol, because he’s a pussy. Tarn is being very brave about this, only letting the spot blacking on his linework show on his face, as his fists shake with rage.

Then Kaon shows up, begging they pull back their forces until the Pet has been returned, and the spot blacking gets a little heavier.

Tarn, who has had a very long day of tactical meetings, phone calls, facing his fallen idol, having a very unsatisfying beatdown with said idol, and dealing with known freak Overlord, handles Kaon’s inability to be a big boy about misplacing his shitty little dog with all of the tact and decorum we’ve come to know him for— he gives Kaon a big, beefy hug, acknowledges just how much Kaon loves that shitty little dog, and then makes sure that Kaon never has to worry about a thing ever again.

That’s a series wrap on Kaon! Let’s give him a hand, folks!

Tarn, who has had just about enough of Overlord in the last half hour, smashes Kaon’s head onto Overlord’s tits, covering him in viscera, as he demands he be treated with respect, because this is HIS house, where HE’S paying the bills and calling the shots, so help him god. Nickel is very displeased that Tarn’s killed one of the Twinksome Twosome. No word on how Deathsaurus feels about this, considering that a big reason he’s working with Tarn is because he refused to kill the rest of the DJD when demanded to do so, thus showing his dedication to his men. Also no word on how the rest of the DJD are going to handle Tarn decapitating their weed man.

Tarn tells everyone to pony up, as they’re about to go over and handle all the silly little bastards hiding out in the Necrobot’s “fortress”.

Speaking of which, it looks like Megatron made it home, despite Tarn blowing his tits clean off with that cannon blast. Rodimus and Ratchet carry him inside, as Magnus is probably too busy not getting his arm put back on to help, and Megatron is using the last of his energy to hold the Autobot badge Tarn slapped off his chest earlier.

Sure hope Ratchet didn’t forget to tell Drift about his old boss being co-captain of the ship, or else this is going to be a very nasty surprise for both of them— we've already seen that Drift loves to freak out and kill sick people.

[sillyromance]

Hello!!!! I read the pred hcs you made for some transformers and I really loved them…I was wondering if you had more? I’d love to hear more about TFP Ratch or TFE Bee…but honestly I’ll take any character you’d like to elaborate on. Those were SO cute 🥺

Good day, dear anonymous!

I'm really happy you like my post - thank you very much for your kind words!!! Unfortunately, I don't have any more ideas about Ratchet and Bee for now... But as soon as I get some, I will definitely post them!

And at this time, here I have predcanons for other transformers from different universes. Hope you will enjoy!

P. S: I'm really sorry for my long silence - sometimes school takes too much of my time...

TFP

Wheeljack

Always confident and calm ninja seems to be quite easy-going at the first glance, but the more you watch him the better you see that in reality he prefers being all by himself, and it demands time to earn his respect and affection. So, like Ultra Magnus, he would be very picky about who he would let inside of his fueltank. However, as far as he warms up to someone, he gets unbelievably chilly about swallowing his beloved team pal down. Need a place to rest? Feel scared or upset? Lonely? Just get in. He doesn't see any point in long ceremonies; his movements are slow and gentle, however it doesn't take much time for Jacky to push you down his throat with a satisfied hum. At the same moment, the part of the process he would adore is tasting; unusual, exotic human flavours would make his processor just buzz in bliss! Sometimes he would take his time a little, carefully, methodically licking a person in his mouth from head to toe, rolling and tickling them with a tip of his tongue, optics closed and lips smiling joyfully. Only when there is no dry spot on the human's body, he would title his helm back and let them slide further into his core. Wheeljack would never be shy to speak to his friends after they got in his fueltank; often he is watched by puzzled eyes of comrades while he's running around his business and talking to someone they can't actually see or hear. But he doesn't pay much attention on their reaction anyways...

As an addition: Wheeljack finds vore a perfect chance to take Mico with him and Bulkhead on missions without Ultra Magnus noticing anything. And he always manages to set her free right at the time when no one is able to see it. So, Magnus is repeatedly driven mad by this small, innocent tricks, although he admits human child's help is quite useful from time to time.

TFE (Earthspark)

Starscream

This mech with difficult, sarcastic, but secretly soft character would be a shy and nervous kind. He would be quite concerned about his tiny friend's safety; when it comes to gulping them down, the 'con is too afraid that he can accidentally hurt them if something goes wrong. And he is sure it will go wrong because he is too used to failings... Moreover: it's really hard to win his trust because of everything he has been through. That way, it would be not a simple task to convince this ex-decepticon that vore is actually a good thing. However, if you manage to go over with all the obstacles, he will be the most careful and wholesome pred ever. And once he completely understands there is no danger - an obsessively willing one. He wants to keep his human companion as close as possible, warm and protected from everything and everyone (especially Megatron). He can get a little teasy in attempt to see how you blush and smile - recognition of his human's pleasure makes his spark sing of happiness; but usually he would just coo at you softly, give you a light kiss in the forehead and then his smooth lips would slowly, but demandingly pull you into his salivating mouth. As a person with PTSD he always needs to have absolute control over the situation, something unexpected (abrupt movements, screams, loud laugh, sudden rough squeezing of his insides) extremely freaks him out; so, you better let Starscream take the lead and stay still. After his darling reached their destination, he would try to move less, not wishing to cause any problems to them. He would curl up in a tight ball, hugging his middle with both arms and stroking it happily, and speak to them softly until he and his prey both fall asleep.

As an addition: sometimes he have panic attacks and feel deep enxiety, so some reassuring weight inside of him would be required.

TF RID

Drift

This autobot is a tough guy which is quite strict to others as well as to himself. So, you shouldn't expect him being a sweetheart. Although the alien samurai never forgets about humans' fragility, his tiny friends are barely treated softly most of the time because they are members of their team like others; they have responsibilities and have to work on their best without excuses or privileges. He doesn't accept extreme sensitivity in anyone; in order to that, he can often hurt his little partner's feelings. I think in this case, vore for him would be a way to apologize for being rude and to show that his friend can trust him; putting them deep inside of his body, close to his spark would mean that whatever offensive things he says sometimes, he is always there for his precious comrades. Of course, his is a QUITE protective pred; if Drift understands that his companion isn't able to defend themselves, he will simply grab little one in a second and shove them into his mouth - such straight forward actions committed without any explanation can be shocking for a prey, but, unfortunately, they should just live with it; he won't change anyways. If you're his close friend or a lover, then perhaps he will go slightly easier on you; at least, he will be definitely more gentle and caring every time he is bound to send you down his fueltank.

However good control Drift has over his emotions, he isn't able to deny that he likes the entire process. When there is an opportunity, he loves examining his sensations; presence of a small life hiding in his very core has a comforting and relaxing influence on him, especially because of his protective instincts. These are the points why he wouldn't hurry to set his human friend free (not like they would be unhappy about it though). The samurai wouldn't tell anyone about where his partner is once they got tucked into his "stomach" (even to the minicons) because in Drift's opinion it could be shameful for both included; that way, when he is around others you can imagine that he has forgotten about you at all. It's not true. And the fact that even during the hardest battles he will keep you fine inside no matter the cost perfectly proves it. But he would pay attention on you openly only in private, far away from the team. Then he would lay one servo on his waist, caressing it delicately, and finally ask softly if you are OK in there. Afterwards, perhaps there would be a long philosophical discussion till the evening, when he would let you out to look at a beautiful sunset from his shoulder.

[fiber-optic-alligator]

(Not a request dw) (I had to get this idea out of my head real quick.)

The idea of Drift swallowing his Little One to protect them from another mech trying to take them for themselves. The pair of them had been sitting, and idly chatting (Even if it was mostly a one-sided conversation.) when another mech had come along. Clearly interested in getting their servos on a tasty little human. It'd start with Drift growling lowly as a part of his warning to the potential human-thief that it'd be a bad idea to try his patience. Obviously he'd want to talk things out first, but a small possessive part of Drift loathes the idea of being separated from His Little One. So the "chat" is intermingled with his growling.

The next action Drift would take if the intruding mech persists. Would be to scoop his Little One up to keep them out of reach of the other mech, the growling of his engine growing more intense to dissuade the mech from taking things any further.

But if all else fails, Drift is probably just gonna make a show out of swallowing His Little One. Before growling loudly one last time out of possessive irritability, and walking away from where he'd been seated. He loathes acting like that, as it reminds him of his Deadlock days, but he wasn't about to let his Little One be stolen away by someone who wasn't going to be Nearly as careful with them as he is. It just wasn't going to happen. Speaking of which, he has some apologizing to do to His Little One after he gets back to his Habsuite, and retrieves them from his tanks. Oh dear.

Ok, but, the feeling of being swiftly (But carefully) swallowed by Drift while he's growling up a storm would be Far more jarring than the experience of being swallowed typically would be. The world around you shaking rhythmically, loudly as peristalsis drags you further down into Drift's humid depths. But even when you know Drift would never hurt you, (On purpose) being swallowed, and so thoroughly rattled by his animalistic growls fills you with dread as you sink deeper within him. You land in his stomach as he lets out a more aggressive growl. His tanks clench close around you, just as possessively as your mech is behaving externally. But when you feel him get up, and walk away his tank releases it's hold on you allowing you to breathe again.

It's different when he growls with you in his tank, than when he purrs. The sounds of his gentle purring lulls you to sleep most nights, and results in only a slight shaking sensation. But his growls rattle you to your core, and leave you feeling threatened by the typically placid mech. Drift, who loves you too much to let you leave fall into the servos of someone who can't give you the care you need. Like he can. Like he will.

HRRRRRRRGH THIS IS SO GOOD!!!!

I’m sorry I HAD to write something about this. I know this wasn’t a request but this scenario is honestly so, so good. The way you worded it was beautiful. GOD, what I wrote isn’t half as good as what you sent but I was inspired. What I wrote isn't a carbon copy of your idea, but I still really enjoyed putting this idea into story form. GOD I STILL CAN'T GET OVER IT. Drift certainly does love you too much to let you be taken by someone else. He loves you too much to let you leave. After all, you are is little one. There's no changing that.

PLEASE let me know if you like the little story I wrote. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE INCREDIBLE ASK! I'm gonna look back at reread at least twenty times now lmao.

WARNING! WHAT IS WRITTEN BELOW THIS CONTAIN SOFT VORE. If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read!

.

.

.

“Hey, are you going to have that?”

  Drift looks up. The mech staring back at him is stocky and short. He has some grime splattered across his chassis and arms: oil. An engineer. A name does not stick to the face, and Drift takes a quick moment to try and recall it. Nothing.

  “Excuse me?” is all his confusion will allow him to say.

  “The human.” The stranger gestures to the table. “Are you gonna have it?”

  Drift looks down. On the table is a datapad displaying a sparkling’s story with funny little illustrations. Observing the pictures is you. The library is a quiet place. Drift comes here frequently to either read or simply clear his mind. He enjoys bringing you along as well; ever since you found out there was a library aboard the Lost Light, you have shown a strong fascination with Cybertronian writings. He doesn’t know if you get the gist of what they mean, but you give him such excited, pleading looks when he lets you observe them, that he can’t help but let you indulge. So, he provides you with simple readings. The ones with pictures are what you seem to enjoy best. You’d sit there for hours if you could, looking at the datapad and trying to quietly sound out the Cybertronian words to yourself. It’s not something you do well, but Drift finds it so adorable. You attempting to mimic his language just proves how clever you are.

  He loves to watch you do this, and he frequently jumps in to help you say certain words right. Most of the time the two of you are quietly repeating them to each other in a sort of simple lesson. It’s one of the many things the two of you do as a bonding experience. Primus, Drift loves it.

  So who the hell is this random mech to barge in and interrupt by asking if he can have you?

  “Um.” Drift chuckles in disbelief. “They’re not for sale. Sorry.”

  “Oh, no, nonono.” The mech shakes his head and laughs too. “I don’t want to buy them from you. I want to borrow them. I’ve never had the chance to get my servos on one of these little beauties. It’s rare to find a human that doesn’t already have an owner.” He leers at you, swiping his glossa over his lips. “If you let me have a taste, I’ll pay you. However much you want, name your price.”

  You, who has been silently observing this entire interaction, shrink back nervously. Drift sees the way you look at the other mech in fear, and his mood immediately darkens. Something sour builds in his spark. He slowly reaches forward and curls his digits around you. It’s an obvious display of possessive protection.

  “They’re. Mine,” he growls. The sound is deep and dangerous, continuing on after he spoke his words. Though he doesn’t notice, you are clearly shaken by it. Chirping softly, you press your hand against his palm, trying to get his attention. But he only tightens his hold, never breaking eye contact with the threat before him.

  “Dude, I know they’re yours.” The other mech is clearly unaffected by Drift’s hostility. “You can spare a bit of time with them, can’t you? C’mon, just let me have a taste.”

  He makes a grab for you. Drift’s instincts kick in, and he snatches you away. You yelp when he presses you against his chassis. He makes a mental note to apologize to you later, but right now he needs to play the part of big bad mech. There can be no sign of weakness here. This stranger is clearly bent on stealing you from him. He won’t let that happen. You are his little one. His.

  Drift rises to his pedes, his growls elevating. The other mech doesn’t show any ounce of care and growls back, armor rising to clack. “I’ve waited for so long to try one of these things,” he says. “This might be my only opportunity! Just let me have them!”

  “They aren’t a thing,” Drift hisses. “They are a human. And if you can’t show them the proper respect and care they deserve, then you have no right to own this one, let alone any.”

  “You think just because you're third in command to the captain that you can lecture me on how to treat a human?” The mech gets into Drift’s face and flashes his fangs. “You don’t even know me! I’m not going to hurt it! I just want a taste! Is that so hard for you to allow?”

  “When it comes to a bot like you? Yes. It is.” Drift doesn’t waver. He’s taller than this mech. Stronger, too. Faster, and better at fighting. If it comes down to such actions unfolding, then so be it. He will do anything to protect his little one.

  Speaking of you…you cower in his servos, trying your best to appear invisible. He looks down at you, debating on how to handle this. The other mech obviously doesn’t intend on backing off any time soon, and if things do come down to a fist fight, he obviously can’t defend you like this. His best option for keeping you safe is swallowing you.

  The engineer puffs out his chassis and revs his engine. It’s a challenge.

  Drift accepts it. But not in the way he is thinking.

  He raises you high above his faceplate and lets you drop a little, until he has the back of your shirt pinched between his forefinger and thumb. You kick your legs and squeal, alarmed, and his spark wrenches at the sight. He wants to comfort you. He needs to comfort you. But he can’t, not while he’s making a show of this in order to prove he isn’t someone to be messed with. So despite how disgusted he is with taking advantage of your fear, despite how this makes him feel like a little piece of Deadlock is rising from the grave, he goes through with his decision and decides that if he wants to keep you protected, he needs to scare the other mech off…even if you are scared shitless too.

  He lets you go. Your high-pitched scream is abruptly cut off when you land in his intake and he quickly snaps his jaws shut. Slicking you up with solvent, he tilts his helm back and swallows you, swiftly, but gently. He makes sure the other mech can see you travel down his throat. You are nothing more than a little bulge that disappears into his chassis and is quickly consumed.

  The engineer stares. His mouth is open like he wants to say something, but no words come out.

  Drift licks his lips and continues growling, as loudly as he can. He watches the other mech’s helm lower, optics on the floor. Intimidated. Good.

  “Never come near me or my human again,” he says. “They’re mine. Do you hear me? Mine.”

  The challenger offers no protest. Drift pushes past him and leaves the library, not looking back.

  You have never seen this side of Drift before.

  When he swallows you, he is always careful with you. He takes things slow, allowing you to move along with his pace, giving you every opportunity to tell him no, you don’t want this right now.

  However, this case is entirely different. He didn’t even give you a chance to gather your bearings before he was tossing you into his mouth and gulping you down with a rushed sense of urgency. Oh, he was gentle. Of course he’s always going to be gentle with you. But after watching the way he interacted with that strange mech, who you know wanted to eat you just from the way he had been looking at you like a lion looks at a fresh piece of meat, you can understand why he’s being so quick. This is being done for your preservation.

  But god, that doesn’t mean this isn’t terrifying.

  Everything around you shakes as you are pushed deeper and deeper within him. His esophageal muscles are tight, the rolling sensation of being swallowed not as soothing as it should be. His growls ring in your ears and leave you feeling rattled. He sounds dangerous. He sounds like an animal.

  It scares you.

  When you make it to his stomach, you are practically shoved inside. There is no chance to catch your breath, no opportunity for you to nestle in and get comfortable. The walls move in to give you the tightest squeeze of your life. You are squished uncomfortably between living cables that pulse with the bright, possessive desire to never let you go. Every angle is taken up by him. All you can see is blue biolight. And all you can hear are his throaty rumbles.

  There is no end to it. Even when you feel his stomach gently sway with the rest of his body as he walks away, the organ only holds you closer, gurgling possessively. You feel like you are being told that you are his. Because you are.

  You should be consoled by this fact. But no such feeling comes to compete with the claustrophobic dread that fills you.

  Drift is fuming when he stomps back into his habsuite. He paces back and forth, then drags his chair back and sits in it with a heavy puff of exhaust. Tapping his digits against his desk, he imagines his fist grabbing that engineer by the back of the helm and smashing his faceplate into the nearest wall. How dare he? How dare he just waltz up to him and ask to taste his little one? The nerve of some bots!

  I’ll have to put in a word to Ultra Magnus, he thinks. That engineer should be dismissed. He shouldn’t even be on the Lost Light. Disgusting behavior like that should be punished. It has to-

  He hears a soft whimper. His digits halt their fidgeting. He looks down at his middle and has his internal sensors scan your little form. Your heart rate is through the roof. Your breathing is erratic and unsteady. And…oh no. Oh, no, no, no. You're trembling.

  He loosens his grip on you and gives you room to move. But when that doesn’t do the trick, he decides that keeping you in there while you are in this state will only distress you further. So he clenches his tank muscles again, and pushes you upward, back through his esophagus and into his mouth. He slips you into his servos with practiced ease, turning you gently so you are on your back. You are covered in his solvent, chest heaving as you look up at him. Then, to his horror, you turn away from him and curl up into a little ball. You are still shaking. His spark sinks.

  He gently deposits you onto his desk and fetches one of his fluffiest blankets to wrap you in. You don’t resist him. You just sit there, giving him those big sad eyes you have whenever you are scared.

  “Little one?” Drift whispers.

  You chirp softly and hide your face. He whines. “No, no, don’t do that.” He hooks his index digit under your chin and tilts your head up. “Look at me, little one. Please.”

  You're still so afraid. He realizes that his big act in front of the engineer really affected you. Guilt rises. There has to be a way to get through to you and show you that he’s still the gentle Drift you know.

  He leans forward, cupping you close. Lowering his helm to be at your level, Drift coos out the call you always make when you want his attention. “Hello,” he murmurs in the foreign tongue. “Hello. Hello, hello.”

  You perk up a little when he mimics your calls. Tentatively, you say it back. “…Hello.”

  Drift beams. “Hello, little one.” He ruffles your hair, chuckling when you lean into his touch. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I…I had to show him that you are mine. I don’t want anyone trying to take you from me. They could hurt you. And if that happens…I’ll never be able to live with myself.”

  You seem to understand that he’s asking for your forgiveness. Sighing, you shuffle forward and reach out, pressing your hands against his nose. You chirp; much of it is indecipherable. But then…you begin to speak. Not in your language. In Cybertronain.

  “Love you,” you say to him. “Love you…love you, Drift.”

  He doesn’t know when you learned it. But he knows it’s the first time you’ve said it. He is your first I love you.

  He can’t contain himself. Drift purrs louder, cuddling you. “I love you too, little one. I love you so, so much.”

  You like cuddles. You deserve them. Today was a rough day for both of you. But knowing you still trust him is relieving.  And he promises you…he swears to you, he will never allow anyone to try and threaten you again.

[epicawsomeusername]

One thing I like in vore is hypnotism but not in the way most people think. I don’t really like it when the pred uses it as a way to get the prey to do something against their will, I like it when the pred uses it as a way to calm the prey down and soothe them.

Like, imagine something traumatizing happened to the prey. The prey is curled up, leaning against a tree, shaking as freezing rain stings their face. The pred kneels down near the. Their eyes are filled with concern. They know their prey is terrified, but if they stay out in the cold like this, they’re gonna freeze to death. They just need to get them somewhere warm and safe where they can calm down.

They slowly approach the shaking prey and place a gentle hand on their shoulder. The prey tries to pull away but the pred keeps them close. “I know you’re scared,” they say in a soothing voice, “I’m going to need you to calm down so I can get you somewhere safe.”

The prey shakes their head and the pred growls. The prey’s eyes widen and they try to pull away. The pred calms themselves and takes a deep breath. They know the prey isn’t gonna calm down on their own. They’ll need some help.

The preds eyes start to softly glow as they meet the prey’s gaze. The prey starts to feel the preds presence grow in their mind. It feels oddly comforting. Despite the comfort, the prey doesn’t like the intrusion in their mind and they resist. The pred remains patient and gentle. “Don’t resist me, just relax and let me help you.”

The preds voice is soft and soothing, making it difficult for the prey to resist. They slowly open their mind to the pred and slip into a light trance. The pred gently pulls the prey into their arms, soothing them further.

“I’m gonna get you someplace warm and safe. do you trust me?” The pred asks. The prey nods in response and the pred gently opens their mouth, swallowing the prey down.

The prey slides into the preds belly. It’s surprisingly warm. It’s warm and the soft, fleshy walls gently kneed and massage their tense body, easing them into relaxation. The pred closes their eyes. The prey is safe now. They feel the prey’s breathing slow as they drift off to sleep in their belly. With a sigh of relief, the predator gently rubs their belly, closing their eyes themselves and relaxing.

Sorry for the really long post

[what-have-i-unleashed]

thank you for the endorsement @freakstertoff >:3 i am now gonna subject everyone to soul vore kink killer. i write this as i go so uhhh probably not good writing lol

(cw: soul vore, vore kink, my terrible attempts at depicting soul sex)

color and killer sit chest-to-chest to each other, as color link hands with killer, their fingers intertwining, their arms on both sides of their bodies. color summons his soul, a white heart in contrast to killer's crimson red. they stare at each other's soul, both filled with sudden pang of nervousness.

"are you good with this, killz?" color asks softly. "we can stop if you want."

killer curls his fingers holding color's hands, as if anchoring himself and pulling color closer. "... i want this," he says, as his heart-shaped soul wavers only a bit. whether from uncertainty or apprehension, he couldn't tell.

color looks at him, searching. then he softens his gaze as he leans forward, his forehead touching killer's.

"it's okay. i got you."

color's soul moves towards killer's, their edges touching, and killer lets out a surprised gasp at the sudden heat that blooms from his chest. the heat is scorching, but it tastes of static on his tongue. like waddling through plasma. color stops, but killer grasps at him, nudging, insistent.

"no no, do it again. do it again."

and so, color does. slowly and carefully. guiding each millimeter of his pristine white being into killer's cold mangled hybrid self. killer wills himself to be smaller, more vulnerable, more docile, in the presence of his beloved. he wants to worm his way into color and never leave, basking in the warmth it generates.

eventually, color's soul fully captures killer's inside of it. and killer lets his head fall onto color's shoulder, lightly mewling at the sensation coursing through his magic body. the light buzz of electricity that occasionally tingles. the heat that never stops consuming his bones. he tries to curl his body into a fetal position, wishing he could crawl into color's ribs and be so safe and protected.

more. more. his magic cries as it pulses inside of color. killer finds himself surrounded in the pure fuzzy feelings that color is emanating in his magic field. and now being one with color, killer can tell that what they are. love. adoration. admiration.

killer weakly tries to ping those emotions back, but he cannot make them form into the proper waves. he's blind, confused like a newborn cat. he wants to reciprocate, but his senses are dull and his soul is unresponsive.

it's okay, it's okay, beloved. you don't have to do anything. color says in their merged self. he's everywhere. enveloping killer. inside killer. the sensation is overwhelmingly wonderful.

stay. killer can only offer a feeble request. he wants to say more but unable to. 'stay forever. let me stay like this forever.' his broken soul wouldn't let him. and he wants to sob and cry at that.

once again, color hugs him, both his body and his being. don't cry. you're perfect the way you are.

and killer drifts off, satisfied.

[chaosduckies]

Wiritng prompt. Nothing that thought-out. Just an idea!

A minecraft themed story between the Giant mob and the player. And like its all hapoening IRL and the player is just playing survival and theres like multiple chapters worth of fearplay and confusion but like.

Geez i have a tendency to ramble

This. Was. So. Hard.

Oh my gosh I’ve never struggled so much just to make a short little piece, and it not even come out that good- I’m so sorry if you don’t like it TwT

With that said, I don’t like how this came out, but maybe others do? I have no idea- I’ll definitely re-do if you don’t like this (You probably won’t and I’m sorry again-) But thank you for the prompt either way!

Word Count: 2.8k

CW: referring to someone as an “it”, very very very vague vore (Literally just thinks they’re going to get eaten)

A Different World

———Kane———

I don’t remember how I arrived here. I don’t remember… anything really. Just a sharp pain in my back and then waking up in an oddly small clearing surrounded by trees that were now minuscule to me. 

My eyes drifted off to the strange surroundings, wondering why everything was so tiny compared to me. I held out my hands in front of me, eyes widening at the size difference between them and the trees. Each one only the length of my palm. usually my heart would be racing in these scenarios… but it doesn’t even feel like I have a heart. I don’t feel… anything really. I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t thirsty. Nothing at all. 

The sun shone high above me, slightly making my eyes burn, along with my entire body but not so much that it felt uncomfortable. I studied my own body, finding myself in unfamiliar clothes that were slightly ripped. Not to mention that my skin looked dead. A decaying color on some parts, but otherwise pale. Just like a dead body. Was I dead? It didn’t really feel like it honestly, besides not having a heart. 

I tried to open my mouth to speak, but it was like there were invisible strings tying my lips together. I had noticed that there were slightly faded green parts at the very tips of my fingers, and some faded parts along my shoulders as I looked through a few of the rips in my shirt. What was this? What am I? 

I heard a familiar noise off to my left, making me look down to see an animal with black and white spots all over them. They made the noise again before running over to one of my hands, apparently thinking it was part of the foliage. I let out a playful huff, moving my hand slightly, sadly watching the cow jump up in fear and run as fast as it could into the safety of the forest. Was I really that terrifying? I guess I would never know. But, the real question was why was it so small? 

A faint memory that I had was that I used to take care of some farm animals or something? I couldn’t really tell, but I knew that cows were never that small. If anything they were pretty much bigger than a human. So… was I not human? Why was everything so small here? It’s like this world was’t even mine anymore. Where am I then? How do I go back home? 

I sighed, slowly standing up and somehow remembering how to walk. Would my memory come back to me? Maybe I can figure out how I even arrived here in the first place. 

I took in the beautiful scenery that lie before me. It felt like I was standing on the very edge of a cliff, seeing a small waterfall that was just below my eyes, a river that reflected the light from the sun, a jungle that didn’t seem too far from where I was currently stationed. It was amazing how trees that once towered over me were now shorter than me. How did I remember that? 

Questions that didn’t have answered filled my mind, but I just had to ignore them. It was obvious this wasn’t my world. It was obvious that I didn’t belong here. So how do I get back? Were there any people here anyways? Were they the same size as me? Or were they just as small as everything else around me? Mostly likely the latter. If there were people here, then how would I communicate when I can’t even open my mouth to speak? Would they just run off like the cow had earlier? Maybe I shouldn’t be focusing too much on that just yet… Probably more on finding a place to stay for the night. I don’t think it’d be good for me if someone did happen to find me at night. I don’t even know if this newfound body of mine needs rest.  

I tried my best to walk slow and light so I didn’t alarm any nearby animals, though I doubt that was possible. I’m basically like a walking warning sign that read, “Don’t come over here! Huge, scary monster!” I sighed at the thought, deciding that I could just rest underneath a really strange cliff that connected to another mountain on the other side. How was I going to get out of here? 

———Zayden———

The forest was oddly quiet today. The animals seemed to have gone quiet, the wind stopped rustling the leaves outside. Heck, my dog has been whining and hiding under the bed all day. Obviously something was wrong, and that’s surprisingly not abnormal around here. Along with the man-eating zombies, skeletons that have bows, spiders that were the size of your chest, these green mobs that just explode when they’re beside you, and enderman that are one of the scariest monsters that are out there, it wasn’t really weird to hear that the animals have all gone quiet. It just usually means that there was a monster that snuck into their home or something. 

I sighed, grabbing my sword and dragging myself outside in the revolting heat, seeing that there were no monsters. Even checking all the small, hidden places. There was nothing. Np spiders along the walls, no zombie waiting to get their decaying hands on me. Absolutely nothing. So wha were the animals so afraid of? 

I shrugged it off, heading over to Mira’s house to see if she was having the same problem. 

Mira was a quiet person. She loved baking and helping out the nearby village whenever she could, whether it was help keep up  with their small gardens or just to check up on them. She tried her best to make our little area pretty and nice. With walkways that led to almost everywhere. My house, hers, Ash’s, the village, a nearby mine we go to when we need a few resources. I don’t know how to does it, but she does. Of course there were other people out there besides Mira, Ash, and I, but they lived in big communities. 

I prefer the slow life. Not worrying about what I need to go get for the day, not worrying if someone has it out for me (because most people in the big village either steal or make a trade) so it really wasn’t the safest place to be. Plus, I love being outside, just not when the sun is grueling and practically melting the skin off my body. 

Mira was home, the smell of cake filled the air as I walked closer, opening her front door and walking into the kitchen where I saw her cleaning up a few things before finishing up her mouth-watering cake. 

“Zayden! Morning!’ She giggled, carrying the cake to the middle of her table where I sat at. I eyed it for a split second before shaking my head and smiling, “Morning. Ash still isn’t awake?” I laughed as she sighed, looking out her window and seeing that he was barely getting up. 

“Barely woke up. He was out all day yesterday mining and came back just five hours ago.” She shrugged her shoulders, taking a seat at the table and holding her head up with her hand. 

“Hey, are your cats acting weird? Like skittish or something?” I had asked, earning a questionable look from Mira, who slowly nodded her head. 

“Yeah… It’s kind of weird. They just hide under the covers and every time I tried to take them out they just ran right back in.” She sighed, sounding worried. Today was just a weird day. Mira didn’t know what was going on, I doubt Ash did… but maybe the villagers know about something? I’d have to head over there later because whatever was happening was affecting the animals. I still found it odd that it was unnaturally quiet. 

After a little catching up with Mira, I decided that I would go and investigate more. Obviously something was wrong, and it could possibly lead to something that we don’t want to happen. I would go ask the other people that lived an ocean away from us, but their “city” wasn’t really the safest place fro someone like me. Plus, I doubt Ash would be up for another trip after last night, but hey, maybe he can finally make himself a new, shiny sword. 

I followed the path to the tiny town that lived by the small river. There were barely any people walking along the streets, but then again it was a small community. I waved to a few of the townsfolk, earning a few smiles and “heys!” As I passed by. There were kids playing around but the well as usual. It was eerily quiet here as well, and the animals here were also huddled up in a far corner. The caretakers seemed just as confused as I was. 

“Did you hear the rumblings yesterday…” 

“There’s been some weird noises coming from the woods…” 

“Yeah animals came from all over yesterday!” 

So they’ve actually had things happen? I guess I should start with just asking around. I don’t really want to explore the woods by myself without Ash (Since he actually knows how to fight the monsters) but it’s okay. I didn’t plan on staying for the night if I did decide to explore. Just see what I can find and hope that whatever if going on will just blow over and become someone else’s problem. 

I walked over to a group of people talking, clearing my throat so I at least sounded professional, “Does anyone here know what happened? All the animals are just terrified.” They all shook their heads before one of them spoke, “No, there were strange earthquakes here though. Kind of like in increments? It-it was weird.” They all nodded their heads in unison, as if saying that this information was true. 

I guess I wasn’t going to really get any information from here then if they were all just as confused as I was. Might as well go look for clues while the sun was still high up in the sky. It was just as quiet as it was by our house. Which either meant that whatever was causing this passed by here, or is still here. I dug out my sword, thinking that it was some kind of horrific new monster that we have yet to face. If it was then maybe this was a bigger problem than Mira and I had originally thought. 

Overall, there was nothing out of the ordinary that wasn’t already. The eerie quiet, the lack of animals, people too scared to venture out at night now. The sun was setting, I was a little far from the village but I was certain I could get there without being attacked by anything. Hopefully. 

Dodging trees, boulders, a small stream that I could easily jump over, I started to hear… a weird noise. My head turned towards the noise, listening for any sort of recognition that it was just some weird monster. Or maybe it was the monster that was causing all of this to happen. I shuddered at the thought, hoping that wasn’t the case. The farm animals don’t even get scared of the regular monsters. So obviously this was a little worrying. 

I stopped in my tracks, listening once again for the strange, low noise I had heard. Was it weird that it sort of sounded like a whimper? But not form a dog. Like a human being. It just… sounded weird. Low, muffled a lot, and most of all it echoed through the entire forest. 

“Hello? Anyone there?” I screamed, knowing I would most likely attract zombies but I could easily outrun them. I heard that same noise, almost like a grunting, that came from the two tall cliffs that I’ve only attempted at climbing once. It was always too steep and cold to make it all the way without some kind of protection. 

I ran to the base of the cliffs, not seeing anything at all. The steady flow of the large river than ran into an ocean, you could hear the waterfall in the distance. Nothing seemed off here. Except for the fact that I felt like I was being watched. I turned around in every direction, searching the trees for something, or someone. But nothing. My heart had started beating faster than ever, not knowing if someone was or not. 

I jumped at the same groaning sound, echoing off the walls of the huge, empty cave the cliffs made between them. My eyes couldn't adjust to the dark to see what was hidden, but could see a huge shadow emerge from the darkness, and soon enough, the light from the moon helped out in making whatever monstrous being that lie just ahead of me. With a shaky hand, I gripped my sword, pointing at the mountainous being. I’ve never seen  anything like this… only in those books Mira always read to Ash and I… My mind wandered off for a split second, trying to figure out meaningless conclusions. But nothing in those books could be true, right? I mean, there was a myth about a dragon that had lived in a different dimension, but no one even knows how to get there, if it exists at all. A wither? It’s incredibly hard to make those, and I don’t think they can get this big. I would bet that whatever this was, I’d only be a couple inches tall compared to it. 

Releasing a shaky breath, watching as a… hand? Came down, somehow avoiding the crowded trees. I gulped, staring at it for just a split second before a human face appeared from out of the shelter it had made underneath the cliffs. It’s eyes were pitch black, with a few scars on it’s cheek. Skin pale, messy hair. It looked human, but there was no way it wasn’t. Was this like… a giant or something? Those weren’t real. Not in this world at least. 

My legs almost gave out from underneath me, but I forced them to stay flat on the ground, getting ready to run at a moments notice. Of course I was was terrified. Who wouldn’t be? Having two pitch black eyes stare deep into your soul like it could judge your every move, a literal mountain towering high above me without ever trying. What was there not to be scared about. Heck, I would have ran off if I didn’t know that my legs would give up on me the second I tried. Instead, I stood still, hoping that it wouldn’t try anything. 

My eyes darted to anywhere but it’s eyes, head now tilted while it made some kind of noise that I didn’t know. I focused on his hand, that hand’t moved since I first saw it, looking like it was gently placed. The slight green face on his wrist that turned into his pale skin, the few stitches that lined its neck as if it had suffered from some kind of injury. A zombie? Most zombies have scars, since they were once people after all. 

The giant… zombie… thing opened its mouth, revealing sharp canines. I let out a quiet yelp, my steps faltering and falling back. Was it going to eat me? My mind went into panic mode, forcing myself back up and trying to run away, failing miserably at not tripping over my own two feet. I groaned, looking back at the curious face. My heart beating fast, body trembling, breathing fast. What was I supposed to do? It seemed like it was going to let me run off, but I couldn’t. Tears formed in my eyes, expecting for the worst to happen. Just a great turn of events… Just… great. 

The giant in front of me tilted it’s head, confused. I just continued to hyperventilate, hoping that this was just some sick nightmare. None of this was real. Not at all. There totally isn’t a giant, possibly sentient, zombie in front of me. I jumped when something brushed up against my back, making me yelp and crawl away. It’s eyes widened, looking a bit sad, but retracted it’s hand. Yup… sentient. Never seen this before. What would happen if I made it out of this alive? Tell Mira and Ash? What would we even do? It’ snot like we can force this giant out. How did it even get here? Why weren’t there any monsters in the area? Were they scared of this giant too? So many questions and not enough answers. 

I stared back into the black eyes that were full of curiosity again, taking a deep breath and standing up. This was going to be a long night. No matter how scared I was, I would just have to show that I wasn’t. That’s how I win this. It was just curious after all, it hasn’t hurt me yet, but that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t later on. I just have to hope no one comes looking for me.

——————

Again, this was hard to make, I had no idea how to make this at all TwT

I hope you enjoyed either way though (Just say you didn’t it won’t hurt my feelings lol-) even I didn’t like how it turned out :<

Thank you for the prompt though! Again, I’ll re-do it if you don’t like it! Have a great day/night! :D Thank you all again for 100 followers!

I’m sorry this took so long- It’s been a very busy week TwT

[doukeshi-kun]

Cannibalism stalker! Nikolai has me on a choke hold.

My brain has been rotting for it like ajheikwg ueu

Imagine stalker!nikolai comes to his silly campervan to see you asleep on his bed, and he has the urge to tear into your skin, rip and preserve your flesh, maybe even take a chuck out of it and swallow it so a piece of you would be within him, with him for as long as he lives.

He gently encases your frame and digs his hands into a wound whilst giving you plenty of face smooches, gliding his tongue over your shoulders before leaving bite marks stained with blood all over.

If he could, silly guy might rip open your chest to kiss your heart tenderly before setting it back into your ribcage, maybe still holding it.

Merge bodily souls with your or smth.

I'm kicking my feet, punching the air, giggling to a phantom over this rn.

But he can't, cause silly guy Cannibalism stalker!nikolai doesn't want you dead but he has urges so he settles for biting you hard enough to draw blood (●’∇’)♪

And even better, he's doing all of this with his hand intertwined with yours at the end of it.

And then, being romantic fanatic, he is (he is not, I think). He's bites around the base of your pinky finger, placing a morally and physically questionable bind that applies to you even though you're silly asleep and didn't say yes, but you will when you're awake.

When his teeth leave the flesh, prominent markings can be seen etched onto it, serving his own delusions. However, it's, of course, not something drastic.

It's a simple 'you'll never leave me' because he's silly and insane like that (he'll kill you if you do).

Ajjdndnfjsknajfjdbfjfj meow.

Being the silly clown he is, he obviously doesn't clean up the split blood just yet.

He lets your blood drip and seeps into the pristine white sheets of his blanket before smiling like some maniacal happy face clown because you are now imprinted onto his belongings as well.

Due to sanitary purposes, he would of course change the sheets and clean you up before snuggling to you and drift off to lala land to dream about ripping your body to chunks, piecing you back together so that he can obviously soak into your blood and fully, in physical form merge with you.

MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW

I'm mentally deteriorating from this brain rot, oh my fucking god, pray to the lorddd 🎣

tw: gore, vore, cannibalism, nsfw

surprisingly anon, gore isn't that heavy of a topic in my blog lmao but hear ye—! our dear laotianye has come to the rescue, doing the lord work!

mmmm i really love our silly guy is being SO tender with the heart like omg that's the organ that beats for his name 🫀 and brrrrr i love the thought of him doing it while holding hands like HE WOULD TALK THROUGH IT HE WOULD TALK THROUGH ITTTT

i also like that he would bite and make a bite ring around your finger. like yes bae, embrace that primal ferality of yours 😍 he'd probably get hard as fuck when you do the same to him. on a second thought, imagine stalker!nikolai is fucking you dumb and purposely slip his fingers into your mouth in hopes for you biting him hehe

and i like that his dream is literally about devouring and murdering you like if that ain't love, idk what is 😌❤️ also, imagine after he dreams about all of that, he just scans your body, not for lust purpose but he's imagining dissection marks lmao i'm gonna stop

PRAY TO THE LORD

[bannanasrus]

Princely Belly Cuddles

An extremely self Indulgent drabble (is that what they’re called) with a vore scenario I have wanted to do for ages.

This story contains M/mf vore with female observer post vore, implied digestion, belching belly rubs

I may write the actual vore for this if so I’ll be sure to tag this original post here

If one made a pass down a winding corridor of a castle. One might find the entrance to a room and inside it where a young man and a young woman.

The young man opened his mouth “Please?” he asked flushing crimson. “You want to be rubbed?” replied the young woman a smirk entering her face as she turned to view her husband who was sitting or more accurately sprawling over his lounger. The young man had tousled chestnut brown hair and deep brown eyes which were looking pleadingly at his wife. His skin was pale and he wasn’t wearing much, aside from a loincloth to cover his jewels. He had chunky pecs perfect for squeezing, in fact he was chunky all over, he had once been very skinny and the chunkiness (a side effect very much enjoyed by the man and his wife) was as a result of his diet. True the man ate allot - he was royal after all - and he did put that to work with rigorous training - however, the extra chunkiness that he had attained was thanks to what had until recently been squirming in his middle which was engorged beyond all possibility of normal food. Bandits, evil sorcerers, wicked witches corrupt aristocrats and everyone nasty in between had been victim to his stomach and their remains had added to one of the nations favourite princes. As popular as he was though, only one woman in the vast kingdom would do. Ironically enough it had been her that had nearly stewed in his gut a few years ago, yet she had proved herself to be a good soul, if given to mischief and helped defeat a coven of truly evil witches. After proving himself to be a worthy husband for her by defeating a warlock’s centuries long curse and thus getting the blessings of both of their parents, they had married and that was only the beginning of their joy.

He thought of this as he looked dreamily at his wife, Princess Evana, as she came over. She had long black hair, and deep green eyes that warmed with affection as she saw him lounging there. A small amount of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth which she gently wiped away.

“You look so pretty” he said, food drunk, he’d out done himself tonight he thought proudly. A whole dinner, with second helpings of practically everything. Then for extra desert two quite decently sized bandits had gone down his throat and into his stomach. They had squirmed up a storm but he didn’t care too much as he reclined in his chambers opposite his wife - who was reading her book although she occasionally smirked at him when he belched and let a groan or a moan of pleasure escape him. “They’ve gone quiet” she observed matter of factly placing her hands on either side of his bare stomach and rubbing gently.

“Yeah” he sighed a languid belch escaping him he blushed “excuse me”. She smiled at him she wasn’t sure if he was fully aware of how much she enjoyed his eruptions.

Sometimes if those he ate proved too troublesome he would beg her to come and rub his aching tummy. She would do so and those would lead often to more raunchy times. She would gain much pleasure from her position as his belly rubber and enjoyed the control it gave her. She revelled in each groan, moan and belch she was able to elicit. He was a Prince of the kingdom yes but he belonged to her, and she to him. Tonight was for her and him just as intimate. It would be enough for her to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, rub his stomach, and help it break down the bandits and his other food into a far superior form - fat and muscle and more of her love to admire and enjoy. Then, after his stomach was a reasonable size, she could curl up in his arms, as he cuddled her close and drift off to sleep with him.

Prince Alden groaned in pleasure again, as his Wife’s hands found a pocket of air. Which led another wet belch to erupt from his mouth bringing with it a belt buckle and a chain. His stomach was strong enough to digest pretty much anything that ended up in it down to mush but occasionally, before that could happen he would belch it back up covered in drool.

“You didn’t strip them before making them into more of you?” She asked smirking

“I - bouarrrrrpppp - excuse me, didn’t. They just looked so tasty that I crammed them down my gullet as soon as I could”

“So hungry, even after all that food” she said rubbing her hands over the mound of flesh

“Yessss” he let out another belch bringing more remnants of the bandits he’d eaten

“Good boy, she said petting his hair and moving to kiss him and as she and he moved to kiss each other his cheeks puffed out again, and a loud belch escaped him bringing with it some acid stained black clothing. “My my” she said as he stammered out an apology “they really are starting to go out aren’t they?”

“Yes and it’s a very good thing” he said

“Apart from them being bandits, and the fact that they are adding to something so exquisite” she said patting his gut “is there any other reason why it’s a good thing they are becoming mush”

“Yes - urpppp” he belched again bringing up more metallic objects - he really should have stripped the bandits more, but they just looked so delicious and after what the woman one had said about his wife he just had to devour them then and there still in most of their gear.

“What on earth did they say” she asked

“They insulted you” he said belching again this time one that almost shook his gut “they were a pair of bandits, the man one claimed that you were an ugly old witch who seduced me with wicked magics and the woman one claimed that” he stuttered to a stop as though the outrage of the suggestion was too great “I should slumber with her to cure my curse, she had the audacity to fling herself at me, so I wasted no time in sending her to her place” another belch came from him “No woman in the kingdom would ever amount to your beauty” he said holding her hand and kissing it, deeply romantic, in spite of his level of food drunkenness “no woman in the world”

Evana smiled at him, even though there was no need for him to do it she liked it when he defended her, especially when those occasions ended up with him with a full gut. Speaking of which, she returned her hands to his belly rubbing it as it gurgled happily around its meal. “I love you” he said groaning and sighing as her hands found exactly where gas still remained coaxing up a deep rumbling belch and a small hiccup. She giggled in spite of a herself as he blushed deeper and excused himself again, he really was adorable.

“My darling prince” she said “Every confession of love you have made to me brings me joy, but I need it not, for to be in your arms is the proof that I have of your undying affection for me - not to mention this most wonderful of masterpieces you let me unfettered access to”

“you are too flattering to me, beloved” he said suppressing a belch but still apologising for it “it is I who is too lucky for you, how many men in the kingdom have you in their arms each night” he smiled, it was she thought meant to be sultry. However, it couldn’t help but have his natural goofiness which made her - if it were possible - fall for him all the more.

“I love you too - if verbal conformation was what you were looking for!” She giggled and he smiled in return, another wet belch brought up a partially digested skull which easily crumbled in her hand- the bandits were well and truly on the road to being fat and muscle now. A good end she thought as she listened to her husbands stammered apologies really she thought to herself if he belched in her face more he would be rewarded, though again his apologies were adorable so she would enjoy the best of both worlds. She silenced his yapping with a kiss which he deepened and then he flopped back. “I am sorry love” he said, slightly shamefacedly but I feel I have no energy to, um engage in um” he stammered “My dear handsome prince” she replied “do not apologise, there is nothing to apologise for if you are too tired then we do not need to have maritals tonight” she thought it was so sweet of how he though married to her for over a year now, and a regular enjoyer of it, was still shy when it came to even mentioning making love. If he was tired then it was of no object, she was just as happy to spend the night in his arms. “I always want to, I just - want to sleep this meal off” he received a kiss which he enjoyed “Can I have you in my arms tonight?” She kissed him again “Always - but we shall need to move you from this lounger and to the bed” he nodded his eyes were looking like they’d shut at any moment and she wanted to get him to bed. True she could even if he was totally asleep pull him up and carry him to bed, or she could simply use his body as a mattress, he would never let her fall. However, bed was a more comfortable place for both of them to sleep and she wanted to sleep in his arms close to his chest and his gurgling gut.

She tugged him to his feet and pulled him the short distance to their bed and smiled as he immediately lay within it his middle was noticeably less engorged than earlier but still showed what a meal he had had. Taking off her kirtle she climbed in beside him and immediately felt his arms around her and his little sigh which indicted that he had fallen asleep - his favourite cuddle object in the world found. She smiled as she turned to him, he looked so beautiful in the moonlight and so peaceful asleep. But that’s who and what he was a beautiful man. She gave him one last kiss before she too fell asleep.

Inside his gut the digested remains of the bandits were pumped from the stomach to the intestines swelling his muscles and adding to his chubby midsection, that would be Evana’s favourite gain from her husband’s, her prince’s latest indulgence

As you can probably tell from this and My first ever story. I really love fluffy/slightly spicy scenarios where one part of the couple eats some unimportant prey and the other half enjoys watching them digest everyone’s happy - other than the prey but these two were bandits so they probs deserved it.

Also I will write more with these characters and with Cecil and Blake because, hey I love recurring characters in vore, it makes the world feel alive!

[butchbellies]

Here’s some thoughts I had about a healing vore scenario that I wrote in a friend’s dms at like 2:30 am, cleaned up a little:

you’re in a party of adventurers and you get sick or injured. Your fellow party members decide that the easiest way to cure you is to feed you to the weird monster that cures people by digesting them. You are NOT on board with the idea!!

You try to argue with them but you’re in such a bad state that you can’t stop them from taking you to the monster’s lair and leaving you just outside. As you hear the monster creeping out, you try to crawl away, but you’re too weak and in pain. You can barely move a few feet before something big and warm picks you up and lifts you off the ground.

All you can do is quiver in fear as the monster holds you in their arms, too afraid to even look at them. You feel warm breath on your face, and hear a soft voice that sounds almost human, but not quite.

“Poor little thing, you must really be hurting. I know you’re afraid, but we can’t waste any time.”

Before you can react, you’re being tucked into the monster’s warm, wet mouth and swallowed down. It only takes a few powerful swallows and you’re in the monster’s throat, and then their stomach. The whole way down you’re squeezed by strong muscles, but it doesn’t add to your pain. It almost feels soothing.

If you were in better shape, you would try to fight your way out of the monster’s stomach, but right now all you can do is lay there in agony, waiting for the end. You’re terrified, surely this won’t really work, will it? How could being digested alleviate pain?

And yet, as you lay there, the pain begins to ebb, slowly but surely. You relax just a tiny bit, then a tiny bit more, and more, until your body is soft and relaxed, held in the soft chamber of the monster’s stomach. You feel warm, and the warmth seems to melt the pain away, making you feel lighter. You’re vaguely aware that you’re melting away, too, but it feels natural. The pain is in your body, so if your body melts down, the pain will leave. It feels right. You feel yourself drifting, relaxing into sleep.

Meanwhile, the monster relaxes in their lair, rubbing a large, clawed paw over their bloated belly. They can feel you relaxing as the pain leaves you, your body softening as you begin to digest. They murmur to you softly, kind words for a fragile, mortal creature, wishing you better luck on this next try.

Some time later, you wake up outside the monster’s lair, feeling refreshed in a way you haven’t felt in years. It isn’t just your most dire ailment that was healed, but injuries and aches from years ago. Your body feels whole and healed, and you make your way off to rejoin your friends. But not before casting a thankful glance over your shoulder, thinking of the creature that saved you.