#fatal mentioned

[sillyromance]

WARNING: first person POV, a nightmare, fatal vore (doesn't actually happen), description of painful digestion, strong words, hurt/comfort, angst.

This work is much darker than my other ones...

................................................................................................................................................................

....I had never seen my master that angry.

It started with something small. I didn't remember what was the point of our discussion, yet it must have been important since fifteen minutes were all that needed to drive him over the edge. His black tail was hitting the floor in distress; his eyes darkened, turned icy cold - I couldn't help but flinched, feeling chills rushing down my body at that disgusted, furious glare.

He never looked at me like that before.

- M-master? - I squeaked, blood curling in my veins.

Dooku didn't respond. Instead, his scales came to live, carrying him closer to me, smoothering over the ground so I wouldn't be able to escape.

Was it terrifying? No. Much worse. I didn't recognise that man. I was backing away, step by step as he decreased the distance between us - but I couldn't retreat further than the wall my back eventually pressed against.

And he was close. By seconds, he was getting even closer.

I knew - I had to fight, at least try to save my life. However, my limbs didn't answer the call of my mind; I froze, horrified, devastated as he was towering over me, huge, powerful... Undefeatable.

His hands grabbed my arms - my bones whined, I shrieked pathetically. Even then, I had some hope. I couldn't believe that was it. I just didn't want to believe it! I opened my mouth for another question, for a plea - for anything! I still could find the right word...

But it never came.

Because anything that could be said died the very moment his jaws wrapped around my entire head.

He didn't even bite me. Sense of dread enveloped my soul as the first swallow almost left me deaf. He was eating me. Alive. I made a weak attempt to struggle - his grip tightened, and - GOD! - did that hurt! Squirming was fruitless, pointless from the very beginning. Slime and spit mixed with tears flooding down my cheeks as I was quickly, greedily devoured by a person I thought I could trust. He wasn't gentle, or patient - each gulp brought me searing pain, and there were times I thought my skeleton wouldn't be able to bear such strength any more. His quickened pulse was stuck in my throbbing skull. I couldn't see, or breath, squished in a tiny space of the esophagus. I was treated as... Food. Just a piece of meat with no soul.

Why? Why was he doing this? What did I say to deserve such fate?

At last, my feet slid in, and "the gates" were locked up; I was wholly engulfed by my master. It was a blessing to finally have something in my lungs as I felt my head pushed against a muscle, then - my body was thrown into a roomier chamber. I curled up, shivering and gasping frantically. Yet, my journey wasn't over. When it seemed like, maybe, his intentions were just to store me, to keep me in the crop - which I actually was in - as punishment, flesh began to move again, squeezing my frame downwards. A nasty smell of acids slapped my nostrils...

His stomach, big, but very tight and uncomfortable, accepted me in its deadly embrace, gurgling and groaning happily at the new meal. Digestion didn't hesitate to start; after a few seconds the areas of exposed skin itched and burned as if I was put in boiling water. Lightheaded from lack of oxygen, hurt, betrayed, I sobbed and whimpered. He didn't even bite me. If he did, it wouldn't be painful, it wouldn't be so bad... But he denied me the mercy to be peacefully united with him. It ment I was truly guilty.

I writhed in agony, biting my already bleeding lips. Clothes was dissolving fast, and there was not a small piece of me that wouldn't scream, fried in hellfire.

- I'm s-sorry master! I'm so very sorry! Please! Please, don't do this, don't make me suffer that much! I'm sorry... It hurts so bad... I beg of you, it hurts! Please, knock me off! Help me... Please... I... I don't want to die, master...

He stayed silent to my begging. Stomach juiced gradually poured into my deathtrap; burning waves splashed over me as the naga was moving somewhere, and I couldn't make a sound, beaten, destroyed, unceremoniously jostled around in a belly of the beast...

.........

But suddenly...

- Nyx!.. Nyx!... For the Force sake... Nyx! Padawan! Wake up!

My eyes snapped open.

I jumped up straight, wildly observing the room, but there was no sign of my nightmare. Before I could hop off the sheets, a pair of long, gentle arms hugged me, holding me in place despite my active thrashing.

- Thank goodness... You scared me out of my wits, little one...

Dooku's voice made me flinch; I tensed up, but, once I realised how soft, how soothing it sounded in silence of the bedroom, I melted into his touch. My own hands lifted up and dug their nails into his shoulders; I clutched on him so desperately as if he was a stick keeping me from drowning. I remember, he asked me a lot of things, but it didn't matter to me; I hid myself on his broad chest and burst out, crying like a child. I must have looked ugly. But... No words could explain how relieved I felt.

That was only a dream.

JUST A BLOODY FUKING DREAM!

- I... I... - I was choking, my throat dry and weak. - Gosh... You didn't eat me....

- What!? - He froze. - What did you just say?

- I... I saw a nightmare... And you... Were so mad at me that... - I shuddered and cried harder. Soon I sensed his fingers brushing my hair as he was petting me.

- Shhshhh.... There.... There... Good lord, I'm so sorry...

His tail curled protectively around me, its tip caressing my wet cheek. As time went by, my shudders settled down; his soft, welcoming warmth, his delicate, comforting touch did wonders to my violated nerves. He washed me with kisses, mumbling sweet nothings and apologies to my ears. I couldn't get enough. It was him, now. That monster wasn't real.

- My good, good girl... What an awful dream! I would never do that to you, even if you did upset me. Are you listening? I would not. You're the most precious person I have in my life - I'd rather die myself than agree to torture you in such a sadistic way. My body won't ever hurt you... You're safe with me, I swear. Trust me. You're safe...

He laid me back on the bed, his long body coating me like a blanket. My head rested on his lap: I was breathing in his scent, his heart was drumming steadily right beneath me, and I let myself get lost in the moment. I was secure, shielded from all the storms that might have come to disturb my peace - and the only worry I had was that he would sneak back into his room as far as I would fall asleep, or even earlier. As if reading my mind, he closed his eyes and tucked his nose in my forehead, making sure to let me know - he was preparing to doze off here, on that bed, with me by his side.

- I won't leave you, darling. From now on, we will spend the nights together... If you feel comfortable.

I nodded eagerly.

- Good. Relax - and fear not. I won't let another nightmare break into your mind.

With that, he held me closer, and my lids grew heavy and sticky - I couldn't lift them again once they fell.

My mind slipped into the rainbow blur... And his calm breathing lulled me into careless, unbothered sleep...

[puppyeared]

act 4 :(

@chipper-smol and i came to a realization

[iristial]

[trek-tracks]

Sorry, we can't move them

Source

[suntails]

💙 best friends 💛

[mmmleckerlecker]

seen a couple of posts recently exploring preds as actors and having to film a swallowing scene, which was not something I’d really thought about. but then I kinda started thinking about it and… what about AFTER the swallowing scene? what about pred actors who have to film for hours on end, take after take, with a bellyful of prey? to cut on costs, the prey inside is an extra who makes a living out of being “the belly guy.” the pred actor legally has to take regular sips of water to keep digestion under control and periodically releases the extra for breaks (the prey extras are unionized btw). buuuut then they’re forced to swallow them down again and continue work. and just…

the pred has to stand awkwardly while the director talks to their belly, informing the extra when their cue to kick is and then having them practice a few times.

the pred doesn’t have any lines for the scene but they’re in the background and for continuity sake they have to be standing the whole time and they are SORE from the weight of the prey and if they could just rest their belly on this nearby table between takes…

the pred going into autopilot while they take notes and stroking their pleasantly full belly until they remember they’re in a professional environment and hopefully nobody saw that…

everybody just sorta,,, forgetting that the extra is still in the pred’s belly and talking about them like they’re not there. even going so far as to referring to them more as a prop that the pred actor has to handle rather than another living person.

trying to film a scene where the prey is fighting for their life inside the pred but they just can’t get it to look right and now the pred’s whole belly is sore and tender from so much struggling but, again, they don’t want to look unprofessional and rub their gut in front of everyone

or! on the other end of things… the prey has to put up with filming scenes where they’re kneaded into submission by the pred, rubbed tenderly by the pred’s co-star, or tossed around and squished during an action sequence

I could could go on but just …. ough

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

King the silly guys, Lupin III!

(for @dying-suffering-french-stalkers)

[onebizarrekai]

Kai don't be shy and tell us the lore abt fatal flaws pretty please :3

sorry I'm too shy… I can't do it…

jk. which lore? I can give you some of my ideas I've been brainstorming. I don't know how many of these are repeats though.

fatal flaws is not exactly modernized; it's very possible they're in an ambiguously semi-post-apocalyptic setting, one that's rebuilt but it's been long enough that people don't remember. their country doesn't have any relationships with the outside world. even if there are other people out there, it's likely believed that there are no other civilizations out there, that the mainland is a barren wasteland.

"being a sorcerer" is the kind of rumor that makes you an immediate outcast. it's not illegal to be a sorcerer, but society has turned against them due to prejudice and the sorcerer parasite. the parasite basically kills sorcerers and turns them into 'zombies', like fungal hosts. it's a contamination; they're not born with it. but regular humans think that they're born with it.

miles and arthur lived in a poor sorcerer district in the countryside that existed under the radar, they hadn't been found by the government yet, but the parasite got in. miles lived with his single father and arthur may have possibly never known his parents. (note the big maybe) when the parasite hit, the military found them. the two of them had to escape.

vick grew up in the capital city and was taught in school that the military is infallible and that sorcerers are dangerous. growing up getting into fights and getting in trouble, she eventually went to training camp and got a job in the city guard due to it being well-paying, but it wasn't a particularly good or welcoming job. they eventually told her she "had to quit" due to her badly representing their government with her temper. she didn't start changing her mind about sorcerers until adulthood.

blue is just Some Guy, there is definitely nothing weird going on with him, nope, totally nothing weird. he definitely isn't trying to hide his backstory or anything. he is just a regular delivery boy.

arthur has very confused opinions about sorcerers. he grew up seeing himself as a normal human, and eventually became ashamed of being one once he realized what it meant. he thinks justice is very important, and people should be punished for wrongdoings, but his desire to take crime more seriously just perpetuated the laws that hurt sorcerers. he's not opinionated like miles about it. part of him thinks, "wouldn't people be happier if everyone was the same?" and the machine happens, "why don't we use people's magic to power the city and make it a better place?" he's… complicated.

hacker's a regular guy, but he lives upstairs in randy's restaurant like miles does, and he works for randy. he does Computer Shit. he did used to be affiliated with a gang and his stupid ex still tries to get his attention sometimes.

bunny is a sorcerer kid who likely lost her family to the parasite. I haven't picked apart her story yet, but randy took her in while vick was working in the guard. he worries a lot about her schooling; he and hacker try to do it themselves because randy's afraid of sending her to public school, since bunny's a sorcerer and she's autistic. vick is sort of jealous because she feels like she never got any special treatment growing up.

crystal comes from a surrounding island where people aren't known to live at. she keeps her identity on the down low, because while she's not technically a sorcerer, what she actually is would freak people out even more.

Once Upon A Time™, Charles L'bard the First arrived on the island we now know as our home. With his Big Might and Big Charisma, he smote the cursed monsters and their henchmen that resided there and became a hero. The people crowned him the Island's Hero, the Lord of the Sun, and he became the first king.

many generations later, the populous demanded an elected official instead. this did not make the royal family very happy……

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.

[sillyromance]

Hello everyone!

Some angsty open-ended thoughts for today.

A classical pred/prey society where preds need to consume preys, not very often, but it's necessary for their normal metabolism. Although, hunting has its rules which are quite strict and has lots of nuances protecting both sides from violence and abuse: for example, wolfing a random person down at the street is against the law.

A prey girl who is suffering of a disease the chances to cure which are extremely low decides to make a deal with a pred. They will be able to consume her, but only on a particular day which is, actually, around two months ahead (she needs to bring her businesses in order, that's why). Also, to avoid any unwilling consequences, people included shouldn't use their real names. After a long and careful research through different pred/prey "dating" apps the prey is lucky enough to find a good pred man who accepts her terms and even offers her to get to know each other better, so they won't be absolute strangers when the moment of truth comes and they both will feel better about it. She happily agrees - the prey couldn't be honest with anybody in her life for a long time since she didn't want to upset her family and friends with tragic news. And the man... It won't hurt to lead a sincere conversation with a someone who will have you as a meal sooner or later anyway, will it?

He is mature and wise. She is young and a naive as a kid. But they get along just fine. A strange pair, hanging out in a nice cafe (which happens to be a favourite one for both) after work, going to cinemas and art galleries on weekends, chatting on the phone till the middle of the night - and doing a lot of other things two people who like one another do. Time flies like a rocket. And with each passing day, they are getting closer to each other - and closer to the end. Secretly, they both start questioning their deal, but stay silent, afraid to ruin what they already have with disappointment and offense.

He cares - at least, she thinks he does. She now cares, too. Though she doesn't quite believe it, she feels joy for the first time during these years...

..............................

One day, the prey finishes her things earlier than usual and goes home alone. She isn't afraid of someone snatching her on the nearest corner - it is still bright outside and she lives quite close to her working place. But as she is walking down a familiar street, thinking of which dish to cook for dinner, suddenly, she feels two huge hands digging their nails into her shoulders and dragging her in a dark sidewalk. Thrown at the floor, she gasps in horror.

A pred. A very huge and scary one belonging to the ugliest kind of their race. The prey tries to scream for help but her pleas are muffed by those dirty, strong hands before she can make a sound. Despite all her attempts to fight her way out of their grip, the girl slides down the bastard's throat and lands in a nasty, stinking stomach. Her gentle skin is instantly burnt with the acids preparing to break her into mush - and she cries in pain, fruitlessly struggling against tightening walls.

At that moment she notices her phone buzzing. Thank goodness! Embracing hope again, the girl answers. It's her pred friend! Of course, how could she be that stupid! Sniffing and sobbing, the prey manages to tell the pred what happened and where she, more likely, is. She doesn't really know why she trusts him to come after her - it must be a sixth sense telling her he will, or just her childish foolishness.

Anyway, he is everything she has right now.

Of course, her captor hears their conversation and tries to silence her, or, at least, run away - but they fail. It doesn't take long before the poor girl is shaken inside the beast as it is pinned against the wall and she catches a familiar voice growling angrily at the pred who made a VERY big mistake forgetting to check their victim's pockets...

And, after a few more disgusting seconds, she is released. Pathetic, smeared in gastric juices, but alive. And her dear pred friend is hugging her, smiling softly, while the attacker is getting arrested by the cops who came along with her savior...

...........................

On the next day, they wake up in the same flat. His flat. He took her to his apartments since they were closer - and he is, actually, a doctor. Fortunately, she didn't get much harm. The pred called his girl's boss to say she wouldn't come around because of the incident, so she has a day-off. He has taken one, too. After a tasty breakfast cooked by him, they decide to spend this day at the open air since it's better for the girl's health. Without wasting any more time, they depart and head to a huge park in the centre of the city.

It's a beautiful sunny day. Birds sing among tree brunches, hiding in thick bushes from rare walkers. In spite of it being midday, it's cool down here, under the green shadows falling at the grey brick road running in depth of the forest. Water rumbles beneath fallen leaves, and a wild mouse comes to the spring to sip some - and runs away as it senses the ground shaking under heavy human steps. It smells like rain: sweet and fresh.

They leisurely go down the road; she is holding his elbow and slowly licking her ice-cream while he is talking about funny accidents he and his pals had at the clinic. She feels relaxed; a nightmare she went through some hours ago seems far, far away... But then, she remembers: there are only five days left.

Five days of happiness... And...

At first, she shivers. But after awhile, a gentle smirk appears on her lips.

She interrupts the man.

- You know... Speaking of yesterday... I didn't thank you properly back then...

- Don't worry about it. You were in shock, I understand...

- Please, wait a sec... - She gets a deep breath to prepare herself. - After what happened, I have truly seen that the only person who I would allow to eat me without a second thought... is you.

He stops and gives her a long look. He has almost forgotten.

- ...Why?

She giggles at his serious face, but he hears sadness in her following words.

- Because I love you.

.......................

He arrives at the clinic. They slept together that night again; he is too worried about her going anywhere without him. She has to visit a doctor, though. But the knowledge it is going to be the same place he works in comforts the pred a little. White corridors, white coats, white doors and blinding white light overwhelmingly embrace him as he enters the building. Just as it should be. Friendly faces of his colleagues jump out of the chaotic mess here and there; he greets them without thinking, consumed by his swirling thoughts.

- Professor N! - A secretary calls suddenly.

What could happen in the very morning!?

- What is it, Susan? - He asks sharply. She doesn't seem to be bothered by this.

- Hannah called me five minutes ago - her mom is sick, she can't come to the clinic today.

Dammit!

- How many patients should visit her?

- Only four or five. I was said to tell you that they would be in your competence.

He rolles his eyes, irritated.

- Thanks, Susan. I'll keep that in mind.

Finally, the man reaches his room and falls in his armchair, his eyebrows frowning. The mood is spoiled. To distract himself from dark thoughts, the pred stretches his arm and takes the first clinic card in a small tower of them standing at his desk. It seems like this one is from his today "extras". A young prey girl with a deadly disease; though, the progress is visible since two months ago the analyses were much worse. She definitely has a chance to recover... Some say it's impossible to stop this disease, but he has already seen several people who have had the same one and successfully won their lives back. Not without his help. Perhaps, he will take her as a permanent client... He is more experienced at this topic anyway. Why didn't Hannah tell him before?

He looks through the database and finds out the girl is his earliest guest. Nice. Good news for a good girl in the morning.

This delightful thought enters his mind - and exits it immediately. His own lover is desperately ill and he hasn't done anything about it. It wasn't directly his fault; on their first date she said she didn't believe in herself anymore, that she was giving up. He doesn't know much about her condition since she refuses talking about it, though he predicts it is bad.

If only he knew how to help...

Well, when he knew her story, he quickly realised which solution was the most likable if she didn't want to try anymore. That is the reason he agreed to this after all.

The only thing he can do for her now - is to make her end peaceful and pleasant, just as she wants it. It's his duty - and he doesn't speak about himself only as a doctor, but a human being. Unlike that dork - his fist clenches as he feels fury swelling in his chest - he won't let her feel even the slightest pain. He will do only as she commands; he will digest her gently, slowly, reassuring and fondling her every minute, speaking to her till she passes out. And he won't fall asleep until he feels her soften completely within him... Because he simply can't do it otherwise. He loves her too much to show disrespect. To show indifference to her fate.

But...

Oh, if only she could be this girl whose name is on the card... If only he didn't have to...

His internal monologue is interrupted by a hesitant knock.

- Is it professor N's cabinet? My doctor is off today, so...

He freezes.

Standing at the doorstep, she freezes, too.

[f4keplastictr33s]

thinking about flowers’ petal (that came right of blue’s mind via cabeswater) being compared to kisses and they landed right on gansey’s mouth meanwhile the petals avoided adam and landed all around him :/ also adam watching the petals fall bc he’s an eternal observer :/

[fubardish]

What I love about fatal vore is the absolute horror there is of knowing that you're about to COMPLETELY vanish from this world without a trace. No body, NOTHING, just completely erased. You're being devoured and thrown in a literal LIVING hell that will completely take you apart and destroy your entire being. Nothing will be left from you for other people find you, you're only becoming a distant memory. And worst of all, for the killer/pred this is just convenience of consuming you. The little muffled screams and struggles within them are just a minor inconvenience, if anything they even ENJOY your suffering. Maybe they don't even care for it as you're just "food" to them. Meanwhile as they just go about their day, you're melting away in their very cauldron while you still fight for your life. No one knows where you are. No one knows that you're about to disappear. Your whole being is being overwhelmed.

It's just the complete horror of this whole situation. The absolute desperation you're feeling that you're NOTHING. You don't matter and your only existence is only good for being "food".

I enjoy fatal vore as a horror story. I love the thrill and the scare it gives me. It's like a horror movie for me when I read fatal vore stories XD. That's why I enjoy it. Never in a sexual way, but like a horror story.

Anyways, thank you for coming to my vore ted talk :^)

[kumari8670]

Her name is Helga Sinclair, and she's acting on behalf of her employer who has a most intriguing proposition for you...

Are you interested?

[hemipenal-system]

the best part of eating someone a bit too large is pulling your stomach in and feeling things snap and break as their screams get louder and then suddenly quieter before going silent…

[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. 

[lesbianoms]

I can never really get behind fatal vore worldbuilding. Maybe I shouldn’t try to think about it that hard, but my strange relationship with all facets of this kink have made me deeply empathetic towards one-off prey who aren’t even real.

I guess I’m saying this because I just read an original vore fic. Extremely well-written with dynamic characters, but there’s always the hanging discussion of morality and human worth in a lot of those stories. Sometimes they address it, sometimes they don’t. But I’m like…always thinking about it. And I wish I didn’t.

There are moments where I’m able to bypass this. Normally because I’m imagining scenarios or writing drabbles where my favorite characters are the ones doing the devouring, and then it doesn’t seem so bad, because my brain doesn’t have to fill in the gaps of if the prey could have been them, or me, or anyone that I love in real life. Intrusive thoughts are a bitch.

And it’s also probably because I have control of what I write. Can’t really explain it, but that helps a ton.

Agh. It’s a hard position to be in sometime. Good thing is, I finally told my therapist about my vore kink, and I’m actually seeing her today. Trauma is definitely at the center of these responses to those kinds of fatal stories— which isn’t any of your guys’s problem, so I won’t go into it any more than I already have on this blog. But I just wish I could separate my “normal” fiction morals from the kinky vore ones. Maybe one day.