#human pred

[urfavoritewriter]

Sleepeating

A commission for a user who prefers to remain anonymous, I had an absolute blast writing this commission that I overshoot well past the word count. Thank you so much for commissioning me! Content: Endosoma, safe vore, belly bulge, belly noises, squirming prey, struggling prey, internal view, accidental vore, sleepwalking vore, swollen belly, round belly, casual vore, male pred, human pred, M/M, large belly, stomach noises, tight stomach, prey struggling inside, long-term vore, unwilling prey, teasing, male prey.

The room was a patchwork of sleeping arrangements—an air mattress in the corner, a pile of mismatched blankets on the floor, and a couple of sleeping bags sprawled haphazardly around the twin beds. The glow of the TV bathed the room in flickering light, an old movie playing at low volume as the group lounged in various states of relaxation. Empty snack wrappers littered the nightstand, the faint smell of buttery popcorn hanging in the air.

“Alright, rookie, rule number one,” said Greg, a wiry guy with messy brown hair and a mischievous grin. He pointed a finger at the newcomer, his tone half-joking but carrying a thread of seriousness. “Don’t. Leave. The bed. At night.”

The newcomer, Andrew, raised an eyebrow, shifting awkwardly on the makeshift bed he’d been given. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and he fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie. “Uh… why?”

Zach, the host and arguably the most relaxed of the group, leaned back on his bed, his legs sprawled out like he didn’t have a care in the world. His blonde curls fell into his eyes as he glanced at Andrew with a lazy smile. “Because Matt sleepwalks,” he said, nodding toward the tallest guy in the room, who was currently shoving the last handful of chips from a bag into his mouth.

Matt swallowed, brushing crumbs off his shirt. “I do not sleepwalk that much,” he protested, though his friends groaned in unison.

“You tried to eat Greg’s shoe last time,” said Sarah, who sat cross-legged near the TV, her black hair tied in a loose ponytail. “Like, full-on chomped it.”

“I thought it was a burrito,” Matt shot back, raising his hands defensively. His broad shoulders and tall frame made him look intimidating, but the sheepish expression on his face softened the effect.

“Dude, you licked it,” Greg added with a laugh, tossing a pillow in Matt’s direction. “That’s where all the foot fetish allegations come from.”

Andrew chuckled nervously, glancing between the group. “So… what, do I need to sleep with one eye open?”

“Nah,” Zach said, waving a hand dismissively. “Just stay in bed. You’ll be fine. Matt’s like a human vacuum when he’s out of it, but as long as you’re not walking around, he’ll leave you alone.”

Andrew didn’t look entirely convinced. “A vacuum?”

“Yeah, a hungry vacuum,” Sarah teased. “Last time he cleaned out half the fridge. And Greg’s shoe, obviously.”

Matt groaned again. “Can we not make me sound like some kind of sleepwalking menace? I’m perfectly normal most of the time.”

“Yeah, sure,” Zach said with a smirk. He grabbed the remote and flicked through the TV channels before settling on a cheesy horror movie. “Just remember, Andrew, don’t wander around if you hear anything. It’s probably just Matt.”

Andrew nodded slowly, pulling a blanket over himself. “Got it. Stay put. Avoid the hungry vacuum.”

Greg snorted. “Smart guy. You’ll survive the night.”

The group laughed, the easy banter filling the room as the movie played in the background. Matt stretched, his frame nearly brushing the ceiling, before collapsing onto his pile of blankets with a loud yawn.

“Alright, lights out soon,” Zach announced, reaching for the lamp by his bed. “Let’s try not to add any more sleepwalking incidents to the list, huh?”

Matt grumbled something incoherent, already halfway to sleep. Andrew, still a little unsure of what he’d signed up for, settled into his makeshift bed, his mind buzzing with the warnings and teasing.

The room gradually grew quieter as everyone drifted off, leaving the TV to cast faint shadows across the walls. The night stretched ahead, calm and uneventful—for now.

Andrew stirred awake to the faint creak of a door hinge. His eyes fluttered open, the dim glow of the muted TV casting flickering shadows across the room. The others were still sprawled out in their makeshift beds, their steady breathing filling the quiet with a rhythmic hum. For a moment, Andrew thought he’d dreamed the noise—until he heard another faint sound.

Crunch.

His brow furrowed. It wasn’t loud, but it was distinct, like someone biting into a cracker. Groggily, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he scanned the room. Everyone else seemed undisturbed, bundled in blankets or sprawled carelessly. Except—he counted quickly—Matt wasn’t there. The mound of blankets that had been his bed was empty, the pillow pushed to the side.

Andrew sighed, shaking his head as the warnings from earlier echoed in his mind. Matt sleepwalks. For a moment, he considered lying back down. It wasn’t like it was his problem, right? But the faint clink of something metallic, like a fork hitting a plate, piqued his curiosity. What’s he even doing?

Carefully, Andrew swung his legs over the edge of his mattress, the cool floor sending a faint shiver through him. He tiptoed toward the door, avoiding the stray wrappers and pillows strewn about, and gently turned the knob. The hallway was dark, the faint orange glow of a nightlight at the far end barely illuminating the space. He stepped out, his socked feet making no sound against the wooden floor.

Another crunch. Then the faint sound of chewing. Andrew followed it, squinting into the darkness as he made his way toward the kitchen. The air was cooler out here, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of a floorboard beneath his weight.

As he neared the source of the sounds, the faint hum of the refrigerator reached his ears. Then another noise—a soft, wet slurp, followed by what sounded like the rustling of a bag. Andrew hesitated for a moment, his heart beating a little faster. Is he seriously eating in his sleep?

He rounded the corner into the kitchen, the faint glow from the refrigerator spilling across the tile floor. Matt was there, hunched over slightly, one hand gripping the fridge door while the other clutched a half-empty bag of chips. His tall frame loomed in the dim light, his broad shoulders casting long shadows against the wall. His head moved slowly, rhythmically, as he chewed on something, completely unaware of Andrew’s presence.

Andrew stifled a laugh. They weren’t kidding. He really is a vacuum. He stepped closer, the floor cool beneath his feet. “Matt?” he whispered, his voice low to avoid startling him.

No response.

Andrew frowned, tilting his head. Matt’s movements were slow and deliberate, like he was in a trance. He dipped his hand into the bag again, pulling out another handful of chips and shoving them into his mouth without so much as glancing around. His other hand lazily swung the fridge door shut, casting the room into near darkness except for the faint glow of the microwave clock.

“Matt,” Andrew said a little louder, stepping closer.

Still no response. Matt’s chewing continued, unhurried and oddly methodical. Andrew couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed in the dim light, but there was something unsettling about the way he stood there, his tall frame casting looming shadows that swayed ever so slightly with each movement.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Alright, buddy, back to bed,” he muttered, reaching out to nudge Matt’s shoulder. “You’re gonna—”

Before he could finish the thought, Matt’s head turned sharply, and Andrew froze. His mouth still moved rhythmically, chewing, but his gaze—or lack thereof—seemed distant, unfocused. His expression was blank, almost eerie, as if he wasn’t entirely present. Andrew took a step back instinctively, his pulse quickening.

“Uh… Matt?” he said hesitantly.

Matt didn’t respond. Instead, he turned back toward the counter, setting the empty chip bag down with a slow, deliberate motion. Andrew watched, unsure of what to do, as Matt’s hand hovered over a loaf of bread, his fingers brushing it as if deciding whether to grab it next.

“Okay, this is getting weird,” Andrew muttered to himself, taking another cautious step forward. He reached out again, this time aiming to grab Matt’s arm and steer him back toward the hallway. “Come on, man, let’s—”

Matt moved suddenly, his hand shooting out with surprising speed to grip Andrew’s wrist. Andrew’s breath hitched, his body tensing as Matt’s grip tightened. For a moment, Andrew thought he’d snapped out of it—that he was awake—but then Matt’s blank expression remained unchanged, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond Andrew, as though looking through him.

“Hey, uh, Matt? You good?” Andrew stammered, his voice wavering slightly.

Matt’s grip pulled him closer, the motion slow but unrelenting. Andrew’s heart raced, the air suddenly feeling heavier as he tried to tug his arm free. But Matt’s strength was impossible to resist, his movements steady and unnervingly purposeful.

“Okay, this is not funny anymore,” Andrew muttered, trying to keep his voice calm as he stumbled forward. The faintest hint of warm breath against his neck made him freeze, and in the dim light, he caught a glimpse of Matt’s mouth opening, his jaw stretching slightly in a way that made Andrew’s stomach twist.

What the hell is he doing?

Andrew tugged harder, but Matt’s grip was like iron, and his slow, trance-like movements didn’t falter. The air was thick with tension, the quiet hum of the fridge the only sound as Andrew realized, too late, that Matt wasn’t just sleepwalking.

He was hungry.

Andrew’s heart slammed in his chest as Matt’s grip tightened around his wrist. His breath hitched as he watched Matt’s jaw part further, the glisten of his tongue catching what little light remained in the kitchen.

“Matt?” Andrew’s voice cracked, his throat dry. “Matt, what the fuck are you doing?”

Matt didn’t respond, his head dipping slightly as his tongue slid over Andrew’s arm, leaving a wet, hot trail along his skin. The sensation made Andrew recoil, a sickening mix of fear and confusion twisting in his gut. The warm, slick press of Matt’s mouth closed around his hand, the wetness enveloping him inch by inch.

“Dude. DUDE!” Andrew yelped, his voice rising in pitch as he yanked at his arm. But Matt’s grip was unyielding, pulling him further in as his lips sealed around Andrew’s forearm.

Andrew’s panic flared. “Okay, okay, stop. You’re—you’re fucking sleepeating, man.” His voice wavered, fear lacing every word. “I’m not the food you’re looking for.”

Matt didn’t flinch. His throat emitted a low, almost guttural moan as he sucked harder, the heat of his mouth traveling up Andrew’s arm. Andrew froze, the realization slamming into him. Matt wasn’t biting. He wasn’t tearing at him like some animal. No, Matt was tasting him, savoring every inch as he worked his way upward.

“You’re not serious,” Andrew whispered, his voice trembling as he felt the first tug of Matt’s throat muscles against his fingers. The slick, rhythmic pressure sent a shiver through him. “Oh my God, you are serious.”

His fear spiked as Matt tilted his head back slightly, his lips creeping past Andrew’s elbow. The tight pull of Matt’s throat was unmistakable now, the wet, swallowing sounds filling the silence. Andrew thrashed, his free hand shoving at Matt’s shoulder, his legs scrambling against the tile.

The realization hit Andrew like a brick: He’s not going to chew. He’s—he’s actually swallowing me whole.

“Let go! Fuck, Matt, stop!” Andrew yelled, his voice cracking as he pushed against Matt’s solid frame. But Matt didn’t even flinch. His other hand reached out, grabbing Andrew’s free arm and pinning it firmly at his side.

“Matt, wake up! Wake the fuck up!” Andrew’s voice was frantic now, his breathing shallow as he realized he wasn’t winning this fight. The heat of Matt’s mouth climbed higher, engulfing his bicep as his throat worked in steady, deliberate gulps.

The sound of swallowing filled Andrew’s ears, wet and unrelenting. Each gulp sent a wave of pressure rolling over his arm, pulling him deeper. The slick walls of Matt’s throat pressed tightly against his skin, the heat unbearable, as though the demon vacuum of a friend was actually pulling this off.

“No—no way,” Andrew gasped, his voice shaking as he felt his shoulder press against Matt’s lips. “You can’t—you can’t actually—” He cut off with a yelp as Matt’s jaws stretched wider, the grip around his other arm tightening as it was shoved forward to join the first.

Matt’s body shuddered, his throat rippling as he moaned softly, the sound sending a sick chill down Andrew’s spine. Andrew squirmed harder, kicking out in blind panic, but Matt’s sheer size and strength made resistance feel hopeless.

Matt’s mouth stretched further, the slick wetness of his tongue sliding up Andrew’s arms and across his collarbone. A hot, humid wave of air rushed over Andrew’s face as his head was pulled inside, the suffocating heat making his skin prickle. His heart hammered wildly as his cheek grazed one of Matt’s teeth, smooth and solid, before his tongue pressed firmly against his jawline, dragging upward.

The texture was overwhelming—slick, wet, and unnervingly soft as Matt’s tongue worked under his chin, tasting him with deliberate, almost indulgent motions. Andrew’s nose was filled with the overpowering scent of saliva mixed with the faint, salty tang of whatever Matt had been eating earlier. The smell was thick, clinging to him, and the wet sounds of Matt’s swallowing filled his ears, drowning out his frantic thoughts.

Andrew’s head tipped back as Matt’s tongue curled up around it, smearing saliva through his hair, the wetness soaking into every strand. The pressure from Matt’s teeth framed him on either side, the curve of them brushing harmlessly against his skin, a terrifying reminder of the power being exercised with such unnatural care. The rhythmic movements of Matt’s throat muscles began to pull at him, the slick walls of his gullet brushing against the top of Andrew’s head.

Matt’s throat opened wide to welcome Andrew’s head, the slick, rippling walls pulling him deeper with a relentless rhythm. The heat was overwhelming, wrapping around his face as his chin slid past the soft, yielding base of Matt’s tongue. Andrew’s breath came in shallow gasps, the humid air thick with saliva as his ears were engulfed, the world outside muffled into nothing but the wet, squelching sounds of Matt’s swallowing.

“Matt! Please!” Andrew’s voice cracked, the reality of his situation slamming into him. He wasn’t just being tasted. Matt was swallowing him whole, his slick, warm throat stretching to accommodate him inch by inch.

With a soft, satisfied moan, Matt’s lips closed over the base of Andrew’s neck, his tongue pressing firmly against his nape as he paused to savor the flavor. The tight grip of Matt’s throat muscles around Andrew’s head was unrelenting, the pressure squeezing his features as the walls flexed in slow, deliberate waves, coaxing him further down into the slick, undulating depths of Matt’s body.

Andrew’s chest heaved as his shoulders disappeared past Matt’s lips, the overwhelming heat and wetness pressing against him from all sides. The rhythmic contractions of Matt’s throat dragged him deeper, his body sliding slowly but steadily downward.

“Let me go! You can’t—stop!” Andrew cried, his voice muffled now as Matt’s throat worked around his upper body, pulling him further inside. His head tilted back instinctively, his face brushing against the slick walls as he tried to find space to breathe.

Matt’s hands moved down, gripping Andrew’s waist as he adjusted his angle, tilting his head back even further. The motion sent Andrew sliding another few inches downward, the wet pressure of Matt’s throat wrapping tighter around him.

Andrew’s voice was hoarse now, his struggles growing weaker as Matt’s stomach loomed closer. He kicked out again, his legs finding no purchase as the strength of Matt’s throat muscles overpowered him.

Matt’s moan was louder this time, his hands gripping Andrew’s hips firmly as he tilted his head back once more, his jaws working over the final stretch of Andrew’s torso. The wet gulping sounds grew louder, more insistent, as Matt’s body adjusted to the bulk now sliding into his belly.

Andrew’s heart pounded wildly as the realization hit him in full force: Matt wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t waking up. And soon, he would be completely inside.

Matt’s lips stretched wide as Andrew’s chest passed through, the tight heat of his throat squeezing Andrew’s arms together and forcing them deeper into the belly below. The slick walls of Matt’s esophagus massaged him downward, inch by inch, the steady, relentless contractions making Andrew’s struggles futile. His muffled voice rose in panicked protests, but the pressure around him drowned out all but faint, garbled sounds.

Andrew’s wrists were the first to breach the stomach, the shift in temperature unmistakable as his hands entered a tight, churning space. The walls were slick and undulating, pressing in on him with rhythmic movements that kept him immobilized. His fingers twitched, brushing against half-digested food, the texture both slimy and unrecognizable. Crumbs of chips, something soft that might have been bread—it all surrounded him in the claustrophobic chamber.

“Matt!” Andrew’s muffled voice wavered, his wrists flicking helplessly as he tried to push back against the walls, but the unyielding stomach held him tight. The low gurgling noises grew louder, echoing in his ears as Matt’s body welcomed more of him inside.

From the outside, Matt’s stomach began to expand visibly, the taut skin rounding out with each inch of Andrew’s upper body. The bulge of his shoulders slid into Matt’s chest, making his throat stretch impossibly wide for a moment before the mass moved downward. Matt’s belly swelled larger, the distinct outline of Andrew’s arms faintly visible beneath the skin before they were engulfed by the folds of Matt’s stomach.

With another deep swallow, Matt worked past Andrew’s waist, his powerful throat muscles dragging him down steadily. Andrew’s head and shoulders entered the belly, the space impossibly tight as the walls pressed against him from all sides. He could feel the heat intensify, the air thick and humid, the noises of digestion surrounding him in a way that made it impossible to think.

“Matt! Let me—ugh—out!” Andrew’s voice was barely audible now, his movements weak and restricted as Matt’s stomach continued to stretch. The taut curve of Matt’s belly shifted with Andrew’s struggles, faint ripples moving across the surface as Matt leaned back slightly, savoring the sensation of fullness.

The bulge of Andrew’s hips reached Matt’s lips, and with one final, deliberate gulp, Matt began to take in his legs. The weight in his stomach grew heavier with each inch, the mass pressing firmly outward and rounding his belly into a large, pronounced dome. The elastic waistband of his shorts struggled to stay in place, the fabric digging into the curve of his swollen abdomen.

Andrew’s feet kicked faintly as they slid closer to Matt’s maw, but the demon vacuum of a friend was unrelenting. Another deep swallow brought Andrew’s thighs past his lips, and with a final, wet gulp, Matt’s jaws closed over Andrew’s feet. He tilted his head back one last time, his throat bulging as the remaining length of Andrew disappeared inside him.

The last of Andrew slid down, his curled legs folding into the cramped confines of Matt’s belly. The stomach expanded further, the tight skin visibly rippling as Andrew shifted and pushed against the walls. From the outside, Matt’s gut was enormous, the round shape jutting forward and shaking slightly with Andrew’s struggles. The once-faint sounds of digestion were now louder, a chorus of gurgles and sloshes as Matt’s stomach worked to accommodate its living occupant.

Matt let out a low, satisfied groan, his hands resting on the massive swell of his belly. The weight pressed down on his thighs as he adjusted his position, leaning back slightly against the counter. His fingers traced the outline of the bulge, faintly visible movements beneath the surface making him chuckle softly in his sleep.

Inside, Andrew squirmed, his body contorted in the tight, sweltering chamber. The heat and pressure were overwhelming, the rhythmic contractions of Matt’s stomach keeping him firmly in place. His muffled protests barely registered as Matt shifted, patting his belly with one hand, causing the entire dome to jiggle slightly.

From the outside, Matt’s gut was impossibly round, shaking faintly as Andrew’s movements stirred the contents within. The sight was surreal—a massive, bloated belly rising and falling with Matt’s steady breaths, the occasional ripple betraying the fact that someone was still awake and aware inside. With a faint snore, Matt leaned back further, completely oblivious to the chaos within his oversized stomach as the night stretched on.

The sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting golden streaks across the living room as the soft murmur of the TV played in the background. Most of the group had already gathered, sprawled across the couches and chairs in various states of morning grogginess. The smell of coffee lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the scent of leftover snacks from the night before.

“Dude, you have to see this,” Greg said, barely stifling his laughter as he pointed toward the couch. “Matt’s… uh, looking a little heavier this morning.”

Zach, sipping from a steaming mug, leaned over the back of his chair and raised an eyebrow. “Holy shit, Matt. You pack the fridge in there or what?”

All eyes turned toward the corner of the room, where Matt sat reclined on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the massive swell of his gut, the other scrolling casually through his phone. His belly was enormous, rounded and taut, rising and falling slightly with his breaths. It shook faintly every few moments, ripples traveling across the surface as muffled movements from inside caused the entire dome to wobble.

“Morning,” Matt said, barely looking up from his phone. His voice was casual, almost bored, as though this were just another day. He gave his belly a light pat, the sound echoing faintly in the room.

“Morning? That’s all you’ve got?” Sarah snorted, her eyes wide as she gestured toward his gut. “Are we not gonna talk about that?”

Matt finally glanced up, his expression unfazed. “Oh, this?” He gave his belly another pat, his hand sinking into the firm curve before it wobbled under his touch. “Yeah. I think I, uh… picked something up last night.”

From within, a faint, muffled voice was just barely audible. “Matt! What the hell’s going on? Let me out!” The bulge shook again, Andrew’s movements sending another ripple through the bloated surface.

“Oh my God, is that Andrew?” Greg burst out laughing, nearly spilling his coffee as he doubled over. “You ate him?”

“I didn’t eat him,” Matt said, his tone defensive but still nonchalant. “I was sleepwalking. He probably shouldn’t have been wandering around anyway.”

“Classic Matt,” Zach said, shaking his head with a grin. He grabbed a bag of chips from the counter and tossed it onto Matt’s belly. The bag bounced slightly before settling. “Can’t keep track of what goes in, huh?”

“Apparently not,” Matt muttered, giving his stomach a gentle rub as it gurgled faintly. Another ripple moved across the surface as Andrew shifted inside, his muffled protests drowned out by the low, groaning sounds of the packed belly.

“You’ll get out eventually, Andrew!” Sarah called out, her voice teasing as she leaned back against the armrest. “It’s just, uh… not as easy getting things out of Matt as it is getting them in.”

The group erupted into laughter, and even Matt couldn’t suppress a small chuckle, his hand absently stroking the round swell of his gut. “Yeah, you might be in there for a bit,” he admitted, his voice casual. “But hey, you seem comfy enough.”

“Comfy?” Andrew’s muffled voice rose again, frustration clear even through the thick walls of Matt’s stomach. “It’s cramped, it’s hot, and I’m—ugh! Stop laughing!”

“Sorry, man,” Zach said, his tone anything but apologetic as he tossed a pillow onto Matt’s stomach. “It’s just… you’re part of the crew now. Matt’s version of a warm welcome.”

Sarah shook her head, grinning. “Andrew, if it makes you feel better, you’re not the first thing Matt’s eaten in his sleep. Just, uh, definitely the biggest.”

Greg chimed in, smirking. “And the loudest. Dude, that belly’s been shaking all morning.”

The group’s laughter filled the room again, and even Andrew seemed to give up on protesting, his movements slowing inside the tight confines of Matt’s stomach. Matt, unbothered, leaned back further into the couch, his phone still in hand as he stretched his legs out lazily.

“Well,” Matt said, his voice calm as ever, “I guess we’re all set for breakfast… and entertainment.”

Another round of laughter erupted, and the room settled into a comfortable rhythm, the group teasing and chatting as Matt lounged with his oversized, animated belly. Andrew shifted slightly inside, grumbling muffled protests, but the group’s lighthearted energy made it clear—this was all just another part of the fun.

[fubardish]

staring at MobFlams from below like this

Goodbye :^)

[cybersoldier82]

This was almost a month in the making but I did a thing to end out the summer, som voreception with Mackenzie and Kyle featuring @yuco-the-alien116s oc Cam taking a stroll on the Black Sands beach on Sparta-Prime :3

This is also my first time doing a background lol

[benjaminthewolf]

Internal Glow (Vore Story)

HAPPY VORE DAY!

I'm probably not coming back because I'm moving into my college dorms in a little over a week and then it's back to school. But I am here with you now to celebrate this special day!

I can't wait to see all your interpretations of this piece!

      The feral, beastly winds of the winter sink a snap of icy fangs into the twitching fingers of your tiny body whilst you grasp, in rigid agony, the curved surface of the screw’s head. A surface caked wholly in a layer of snow and ice, searing the stinging burn of their bitter frigidity deep into the skin of your palm, and down your forearm.

     Forcing an acceptance of the pain’s presence in order to wrench the frozen screw counterclockwise, you close your eyes and grunt whilst gathering your remaining energy into the tingling forearm. The screw makes a sort of metallic scraping sound as it grinds around within its socket.

    Reality roars into both your numbed, solid ears, while flurries of snow-and-ice-packed winds surge onto your being from the left. As if intent on hauling you up and among them, carrying your defeated, spasming form to the drift it would settle to die.

      You yank out the now sufficiently loosened screw, and drop it into the snow where it would meet with its three companions. The cover of the air duct clangs to the ground, the tunnel now open to you.

     You’re instantly pushed by your instincts to shove your quivering body inside, causing the external screams of the wind to give way to the jolt of an internal, tightening warmth. 

***

     Cautiously sliding your hand sideways through the leftmost slit of this new air duct cover, which stood between you and the house’s interior, your still chilled, yet better dexterous fingers tap their tips onto the screw head. The final one to unscrew, no less. You extend your arm further past the cover, in order to firmly grasp the metallic hemisphere. Twisting your wrist counterclockwise, you can feel the screw rising out of place, before pulling it out the remainder of the way. Finally, the screw falls to the carpet, and you slide your arm and hand back through the slit.          

     This duct cover makes a far softer landing onto the dark purple shag carpet, before you enter at last into the room. 

     It appears to be space and alien themed, with a color palette of dark purple, black, and bright green. The blanket on the bed, and many posters on the walls, contain the classic symbol of an alien head: bright green, and guitar-pick shaped, with black, almond-shaped eyes.

     You take a few steps forwards, pondering as to what, exactly, you’re going to do now.

     *THWACK*

     “Wh-ah-.....” the owner of the room stammers in sudden bewilderment, standing in front of the newly wide open door. You know he’s the owner, as the very same alien symbol is present on his black t-shirt. 

     As the stand-off continues, you take the opportunity to vehemently scrutinize the man’s appearance, as to add him to your records of the people you have encountered over the years.

     A purple striped long-sleeved shirt lies underneath his black t-shirt, and he wears a pair of glasses with purple rims and red lenses. His skin is pure white, his teeth are sharp and jagged; and his upwards pointing, somewhat spiky, jet-black hair has hot pink dyed tips. 

     His yellow eyes with black sclera narrow in building rage. 

     Your body stands unable to respond.

     “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?”

     Your eyes dart around in their sockets, searching vigorously for a good place to hide. In doing so, you note the sign taped onto the now-visible front of the door, telling you that, whoever this man is, his name is, (or at least he calls himself), “MJ 182”.

     “YOU…YOU! No. Nah. You know what?”

     MJ 182’s abrupt drop in volume sends a jostle of terror through your nerves.

     “GET’CH’YO ASS OVER HERE YOU PUNY LITTLE SHIT!”

     And thus, your body chooses flight.

     Jerking down onto all fours, your limbs propel you past MJ 182 and into the white carpeted hallway, following the sprinting motions of a wild mouse. Thrusting your arms outwards as your legs finish launching you forth, the slight amount of airtime you experience gives you the moments you need to haul your arms back towards your chest.

     “HEY! GET BACK HERE!” 

     You sense MJ 182 calling out behind you before heavy, rushing footsteps pound out the door. With them progressively gaining volume as time continues, it then becomes apparent that running away is no longer an option.

     Heaving your head upwards, your peripheral vision examines the states of the wooden doors on both sides of you. A slight crack in one door on the left lurches your attention to it, dragging your form behind as a result.

     Skidding to a halt on the dark red striped carpet once hidden behind the door’s shape, you soon hear MJ 182 sprinting past. Thus, you spend a few seconds hunched over, hands on your knees, simply catching your breath. Until the door creaks open and a looming shadow shrouds your field of view.

     Your body chooses freeze, and you find yourself unable to breathe. A pure white hand wraps its fingers around you to hoist you up off the floor. Your being gives a spasm as you brace to meet MJ 182’s furious, poignant face.

     A face bearing a tender, sympathetic gaze meets your frail form instead.

     “...who are you?” the face asks, with a smooth, soft, and gentle tone of voice. 

     “...why are you so cold?” it continues, with discernible rising concern.

     The face bears a pair of round, pink glasses, and a large purple hat with two long strips of cloth at each side. Two yellow strings dangle at the end of each strip, and atop the hat are two yellow horns. A light blue stripe lies upon the hat’s brim, under which hangs strands of jet-black hair.

     “Hey…I’m KC Glow.” The man eventually introduces himself. His other hand, retreated inside the long sleeve of his dark red striped hoodie-sweater which he wore backwards, rises up to give you a cautious stroke. “You were probably caught out in the winter storm…here, I’ll try to warm you up.”

     With that, KC Glow begins blowing humid air onto you from his dark purple mouth, before his sweater-covered palm delicately rubs itself over your body. With each huff, the steamy mist sinks deeper into your skin, ensconcing you within its breadth.

     A wavering exhale shivers out of your lungs, the tension in your muscles releasing.

     “KC GLOW? DID YOU SEE ANYTHING ENTER YOUR ROOM?”

     In the following moments, KC Glow’s instincts take over. With his eyes and sense of time both dilating in tandem, the palm that holds your being flies forwards, flinging you en route to his widened mouth. The instant a heavy weight lands on his tongue, his jaws click together.

     Suddenly, you are consciously aware of your situation. Gazing silently upon the rough ridges on KC Glow’s hard palate, while sprawled out on your back in immobilizing shock, you eventually turn your head to the right. Resting it upon the heated, squishy, dark purple tongue, you start becoming more attentive to the natural heat within the fleshy chamber. A voice then calls from outside.

     “KC GLOW?” MJ 182’s voice, lowered in both volume and intensity, repeats the man’s name. The door squeaks open as he enters the room.

     “Uh…eauh…no…I didt ee aythin…” KC Glow stammers in response, doing his best to not move his tongue or open his lips significantly.

     You press your back deep into the warm, pillowy muscle.

     “...what?” MJ 182 responds with genuine confusion.

     KC Glow’s jaws internally stretch as far as they can before his tongue swings to the right, dropping you into his right cheek. The slick, malleable pocket of dark purple muscle bulges outwards. KC Glow immediately attempts to suck in his cheek as close to his jaws as is comfortable for you.

     “I said I didn’t see anything!”

     You attempt to stand up as straight as possible in the curved pouch, your feet stabilizing you against KC Glow’s lower gum line. 

     MJ 182 raises an eyebrow just slightly. The sudden enlargement of the cheek hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. “Hey, what’s that in your cheek?”

     “What?” KC Glow asks in palpable discomfort.

     “Yeah, I saw that happen!” MJ 182’s voice raises in a subtle, accusatory tone. “What was that?”

     “...........air.”

     MJ 182’s eyebrows drop to his narrowed eyes. “Really, now?”

     With MJ 182 making his suspicions very obvious, reality slugs you in the face. You won’t be able to hide in here for much longer. The second KC Glow’s mouth was pried opened, it would be all over, probably for the both of you. 

     Left with literally no other option, your eyes begin to shift towards KC Glow’s dark purple pharynx.

     “Say aaaaah.”

     Thus, it became your turn for time to dilate around you.

     Crouching down and leaping through the gap between KC Glow’s jaws, your body rebounds upon the springy, sleek surface of the tongue. Swiveling around midair towards the back of KC Glow’s throat, the subsequent bounce launches your momentum forwards, resulting in a collision with the man’s bulbous, dangling, dark purple uvula. Gravity drags you to the ground near the root of the tongue, the uvula swinging frantically above you, where you’re able to gaze into KC Glow’s laryngopharynx below. The front of your face can just barely detect the short, heavy breaths heaving in and out the man’s lungs through his larynx. His vocal cords almost appear tightened from inability to respond to MJ 182.

     Shoving your arms up underneath your chest, you push the weight of your being forwards, and watch as the epiglottis flops over the laryngeal inlet whilst the pharyngeal constrictor muscles slip you past the upper esophageal sphincter.

     And then, everything was over.

     “Come on, buddy. Open up. You don’t have anything to hide in there, do you?”

     “No!”

     “Then open up!”

     That's when KC Glow became aware that you’re no longer inside his mouth. Yet, with his top priority at the moment being getting MJ 182 off his case, he opens it up. Any and all thoughts and emotions about this fact would have to wait until later.

     MJ 182 shoves his face right up to the thing, to find… nothing. Eyes narrowing in instantaneous disbelief, he steps back to angle his view towards KC Glow’s left cheek pouch. Empty. Then his right cheek pouch. Empty as well.

     “Push your tongue all the way out.” he orders. 

     KC Glow obliges.

     Glaring zealously down at KC Glow’s pharynx, his tonsils, larynx, and epiglottis all on full display, MJ 182 spends twenty-three seconds strenuously examining the area. Only to come up empty, again.

     Steadily pulling back his mellowed, yet flabbergasted face, he merely stands still for a few seconds, dumbfounded to his very core.

     “Dang. I…guess I was wrong.”

     Within the resulting silence, KC Glow detects something relatively large and bulky squelching its way down his esophagus.

     “I uh…wow. Sorry about that, man.” MJ 182 continues. Realizing seconds later that KC Glow is still in shock from the whole situation, he turns towards the door, instead of waiting for a response. “I’m just gonna leave you alone now.” he concludes before turning the doorknob, walking out, and closing the door behind him.

     Halfway down KC Glow’s esophagus, you realize you are finally safe.

     Your body huffs out a shudder whilst the esophageal muscles behind you contract. The muscles in front of you simultaneously relax, squeezing you further down towards KC Glow’s stomach.

     And yet, that fact doesn’t scare you at all.

     Why would it?

     KC Glow on the outside, meanwhile, finally processes the situation.

     “Uh………are you ok in there?” he pulls himself together sufficiently enough to ask.

     It’s a little difficult to hear him since you’ve slipped into his chest region by now, causing his heart rate to boom through your form, but you nonetheless attempt to assure him that you feel perfectly safe at the moment.

     “Great! Should I get you out now?” There is a rising undertone of panic present in his voice.

     In an effort to quench this panic, you assure KC Glow with full confidence that you’re going to be perfectly fine.

     The instant your words hit KC Glow’s brain, he jostles in a horrified stun, his brain crackling and staggering in error as it fails to process your words. His nervous system frazzles with confusion and uncertainty. Instinct, intuition, and rationality all come to the same consensus. He inhales a labored breath in an attempt to say something about the danger you’re in, semi-voluntarily lifting a finger as he does. Only to realize after that he has absolutely no idea what to say. Or how to say it.

      Deep inside KC Glow’s dark purple esophagus, a subtle grin of comfort forms on your face as you soak in the tactile sensation of the cushiony esophageal walls which squeeze in against your being before releasing. The rhythmic squelching presses the walls’ natural heat and glossy texture against your skin. Though of course, you know it’s only a matter of time before the esophagus would drop you to your ultimate destination.

     A deep, echoey gurgle releases somewhere below you, and you give a nod of acknowledgment that that time is soon approaching. 

     KC Glow, meanwhile, remains locked in incapacity to wrap his head around your current behavior. Your profound, unwavering confidence in your safety. Any possible logic, any possible interpretation, anything that would make it all make sense. He simply can’t find it.

     “But…how?! How are you so sure you’ll be ok?!” he eventually yelps out, the tension and worry even stronger in his voice. He sits himself down upon the edge of his light red blanketed bed, just in case his sense of balance fails him.

     You almost feel sorry that KC Glow doesn’t know. But you know. You always know. Unable to provide him the full answer, you simply insist he trust you on this. 

     KC Glow senses a twinge in his heart. For a while, the muscle beats at allegro. His vocal cords quiver with well foreseen inarticulacy. What to do in this situation is something entirely lost to him.

     Eventually, however, he resigns himself to silence as he scoots himself into the wall which his bed lies against. He places a sweater-covered hand over his abdominal region, and braces himself for the worst. His heart settles back to moderato. 

     Grounded upon this slow, steady tempo, the low-tone stomach below provides a rumbling melody. Improvised solos of growls and gurgles periodically interject. Occasionally, a high-pitched note is reached, before the peak gives way to the valley once more.

     At last, the lower esophageal sphincter enters your view. The instant your head is squeezed out, you can see that KC Glow’s stomach walls, like the rest of his digestive system, are colored dark purple. Finally, the rest of your body slips beyond the esophagus, and you plunge into the juices below.

     KC Glow convulses as he senses the resulting splash. His stomach begins sloshing and churning more actively, and gives an audible growl from the outside.

     “I-” KC Glow’s eyes begin to well up as the reality of the situation fully kicks in. “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! ARE YOU ALIVE?” tears begin to stream down his cheeks as the prospect of receiving no answer ruthlessly overwhelms his mind and senses.

     “Yeah I’m alive!” you respond. 

     Why wouldn’t you be?

     Standing within the pool of harmless stomach juices, you begin to wade your way over to the stomach walls.

     “B-But aren’t you questioning why the liquids aren’t digesting you? ‘Cause I am! Why is it not digesting you? How-how is this working? WHY? HOW?” KC Glow cries with a strained, shaky voice.

     Sealed within KC Glow’s stomach, you are only able to shrug your shoulders. 

     You knew how it worked. You just never questioned why it worked. Why would you question it? What would the point even be?

     You tell KC Glow that there’s no point in questioning it, as you lie yourself down against the squishy, cushiony walls.

     “.....so you’re going to be ok?” a wholly defeated KC Glow squeaks out.

     Snuggling up against the goopy, churning walls of his stomach, you assure KC Glow that you’re both perfectly fine, and extremely comfortable.

     You nuzzle your head into the warm, pillowy, shifting smooth muscles, before rubbing them over with your hands, hoping this will help him calm down. 

     “...I don’t understand how you can just…accept it. Even if you don’t get hurt.” KC Glow speaks up again. “Don’t you want to know why, and how this is happening? This goes against…everything we know, and you act like it’s completely normal! Like everyone knows that, how, and why this works! You should be getting scientists to do a case study on you! You could be famous! You could take partial credit for any scientific advances that happen from the scientific community understanding what’s happening right now!”

     With the gurgles echoing around your ears, and the stomach’s internal heat ensconcing your skin, you attempt to dissapear into the surrounding ambiance.

     “I was terrified for your life, and you acted like you expected me to act the same as you! Don’t you understand how-” KC Glow’s speech halts. 

     “No…no…that’s enough from me. That’s more than enough.” you can sense deep regret in his voice.

     “Please forget I said anything at all! You just wanted to get comfortable after getting through a life-or-death situation, and now I’m just…” a silent, steady flow of tears trickles from KC Glow’s tear ducts and onto the body of his sweater over his abdominal region. He places his two sweater-sleeve covered hands on top of the area.

     “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry!” he sobs audibly before his head falls straight into his chest. “This wasn’t supposed to happen! It wasn’t supposed to be like this!”

     Sinking deeper into KC Glow’s rumbling, cushiony stomach walls, you ponder what you could possibly say to make the poor man feel better.

[ilikebigbellydotnom]

PREY POV: My friend from Canada was always a warm and welcoming guy! when he invited me over to visit for the holidays i did not expect to be treated to such large amounts of food, the plump cook and host did partake in some of the sweets and meats, but he mainly left the bulk of it for me to eat.

The following night my friends gut groaned louder then the Television show we were watching thats when he became really reavous. He gets up and out of the room, roughly 30 minutes go by and 2 episodes of our program already passes by as i noticed he wasn't back yet. i get up and travel to the kitchen, assuming he's been snacking on the leftovers packed in the fridge, when i came around the corner into his kitchen i seen that the stoner ate it all!! He comes over to me pleading for some relief as his stuffed ball gut is in my face, i happy aid my friend in his moment of need... that proved to be a mistake! Once my friend seen my arousual from rubbing his swollen gut, he teasingly asked me if id like to go inside it, thinking he was joking i chucked and said "ofcource i do" the man smiles with a toothy predly grin as my world goes from looking at his hairy belly to traveling down his hot and moist throat im pinned down by the walls of flesh as the huge man is swalling me whole! PRED POV: with a few easy gulps the rest of the meal settled into place, the stomach groans as the large meal streaches out past its usual compasity. "BRAAAAAAOOOOOAAAAUP!!" the stomach begins its process of churning the new meat into fat and gains for the friendly giant, he hobbles over to the mirror to take a full body shot of his prey to remember his friends visit, as this will be their last time to the country. with that taken and his hairy belly getting heated up and sweaty from the digestion this pred desides to rest up and check on his company in the morning. THE NEXT MORNING:

The End

Credit for this morph of myself (yes dat me) goes to my lovely new friend go give them a follow on twitter and maybe he'll morph you or someone you admire!? https://twitter.com/apricotez1?s=20

[teal-fiend]

Human pred who hunts various humanoid creatures (faun, mermaids, harpy) for sport. Using the fact that they have animal physical features to dehumanise them and treat them as fair game.

[eldritchnoms]

Surprised it took you this long to ask me for that one lmaoooo

But :3c

Completely Consume Me | Fucking Devour Me | Swallow Me Whole | Eat me | No Thanks | Who? | God No | Maybe a Snack | Pretty Tasty | Enjoyable Meal | Absolutely Delicious | Hungry Now! | FEED ME

As a certified pred-prey switch I feel obliged to tell you all I would absolutely love to get eaten by him, but also that I would absolutely devour him myself.

Yeah my boy Johnny is 100% a taunting, prideful pred (but harmless), the type who'd get a full gut and relax in a hot tub, soaking happily and maybe even sipping some wine or champagne. But I bet he tastes absolutely amazing. Like an absolute delicacy even, you just can't stop savouring him before properly swallowing, like the best candy in your life. Of course he won't be happy. And will scold you- But it's all worth it!

I want to be eaten by him, but I also really want to eat him. And I just might!!

[naughtyservant]

CW: Bones / S/kull

Philip is a voracious predator that won't doubt shove a cute boy down his throat and crunch him to feed his powerful muscles >:3

Maybe you already realized it, but this low angle is a HUGE turn on and I love to draw it sdkljgjklgsd

Philip belongs to @izznts. Thanks you sooooooooo very much for your support with this pic my friend! <3

*There is also an extra belly rub hands version on Twitter in the case you want to take a look ;3

Don't forget like, reblog and follow me for more sexy preds OwO)~

[fubardish]

Would mobflams let a tiny go if they're convincing enough? Like, if they tell him there's more 'food' if he let's them live?

IF the tiny is convincing enough, that's the most important. Or else it's down the hatch. He is VERY open for making deals.

They gotta bring back someone that replaces them, basically another victim or more. A life for more lives, you gotta pay accordingly with interest. And you better not run away, because he WILL find you and he WILL eat you :)

[cybersoldier82]

Self indulgent Milly vore art real

[benjaminthewolf]

Late Halloween Treat

Yeah yeah I know October’s over, but college has been keeping me real busy so I just never got around to posting this until now.

Surprise! I can draw vore too!

Featuring @starlightgirl242 as prey! This was actually drawn for her birthday!

[voracious-tales]

A Demon's Meal (M/M, Digestion, WG)

“You were able to escort Yaeka without much issue?” Kei Sugihara asked. He was in the kitchen making tea for the Sakuragi clan as usual. They were an infamous Yakuza-based group that made the surrounding area their turf. The righthand man of this organization was simply known as the “Demon of Sakuragi.” Real name Toru Kirishima, he was the most feared individual in the criminal underground.

Like his namesake, he was a mad dog who gnawed at its leash with bated breath anticipating the event of being unleashed and ripping hapless saps to shreds. With no mercy and zero remorse for all the limbs he broke and crime syndicates he demolished; Toru always craved violence it being the sole reason he joined the gang. He was a monster in human’s skin. His thirst for carnage could never be satiated.

That was until he was saddled with the most difficult of tasks by the boss: becoming the guardian of his precious daughter. With that, the Demon of Sakuragi was strapped in inescapable, unbreakable chains and sealed away behind a mental wall. Defanged and his claws furled, there was the seeming end of the dreaded righthand man of the Sakuragi clan.

Toru sat on the couch his arms perched on the back. His foot was propped on the glass table in front of the couch. Every now and then, he brushed his messy short, blue hair and fidgeted with his glasses. He nodded to the blonde man. “Yes, I have. Hope the little lady has a great time at school.”

Kei smiled. He had almost forgotten how long he had known the ex-demon. When he first met the future righthand man of the Yakuza group, Kei was a small-time thief who made the unfortunate decision to rob an old woman’s antique store which happened to be on their turf. Ever since then, he became a contributing member of the Sakuragi clan even if it meant he would mostly brew tea.

While Toru was relaxing on the couch, he felt a slight discomfort. It was a recognizable pang that anyone who was ever alive understood very well. He rubbed his flat stomach feeling the organ undergoing the process of eating itself. That’s right: he had taken the little lady to school and left without getting a bite to eat. Maybe it had to do with some suspicions of rival gangs moving in or something else entirely, but he had neglected the most basic of self-care by depriving his body of needed nourishment.

“Hey, Kei, we got something to eat in this joint?”

“Ms. Kurosaki said something about heading out to gather ingredients for her restaurant.” He placed the tea on the boiler before continuing to speak in his matter-of-fact tone. “ Yaeka did have some left over Ohagi from the time she had her friends over.”

Toru pondered on it. His glasses obscured his contemplative eyes. Sure, he could help himself to some of those sweet rice balls, but what were they really? Just simple starches and carbohydrates. Even eating about three would not be enough to hold him over. Yaeka’s aunt would not be back for a good while; he’d be reduced to just skin and bones by then.

The hunger pangs rattled his walls with growing impatience. There was also the possibility of ordering takeout as well, but even then, it was presented with the same issues that depending on Kurosaki demonstrated. Toru got up from his seat and shook his head. He had no other choice.

Kei was humming to himself watching the tea boil for a few minutes. Little would he know but after this, his services would no longer be needed. This was actually not the first time Toru debated eating him. After all, he was surprised that no other member of the Sakuragi clan – or any rival gangs for that matter – never jumped the gun and sent this long-haired pretty boy down their gullet.

He was a perfect meal: not too muscle-bound, but he was still lean with his fair skin and gentle nature. Kei was by no means a pushover; whenever Toru was babysitting the Boss’s daughter, he would fill the role of providing the “conversation skills” that made him a high-ranking Yakuza member of his own right. But he was also someone that was weaker-willed and often the victim of the brunt of Toru’s subdued ire.

While he took some of the cups for the tea, he felt a tightening sensation around his wrist. In his carelessness, Toru had grabbed his hand. He gulped and slowly, his eyes locked with the Demon. “What are you?”

This was the Demon of Sakuragi that he knew and dreaded. His wrist wriggled and writhed underneath the grip of the seasoned gentleman. He could feel the bones in his hand cracking from the pressure. But his eyes. Good god, his eyes. The Demon’s eyes glazed over from the severe hunger fuming in his stomach. Kei was unable to steady his rapid heartbeat. The hair on his arms and legs stood on end. His fear was bubbling to the surface. He wanted to scream, but he did not want to risk angering the blue-haired man.

“The Ohagi sounds great, but I’m afraid I have to decline.” He licked his chops with a string of drool pooling from the underside of his tongue. “In fact, I have something else in mind.”

Kei yelped. It was admittedly cute watching him struggle against his higher-up. In any other instance, Toru would be irritated with him and do something to give him some minor harm. But instead, he smiled. Instead of a comfortable one, he grinned like a hyena to reveal his sharp canines. Kei buckled his knees together. There were two people that he ever feared: the Boss and Toru.

The Demon of Sakuragi was in his prime again. His partner’s fear was so thick, he could slice it with a knife. Sweat poured from his pores which only provided seasoning for his delectable meat. “I-I know a good place that makes some good okonomiyaki! If you let me go, I could...”

Toru licked his cheek without provocation. Squeamish, Kei moaned in surprise. The salt dissolved on the tip of Toru’s invasive muscular organ. The rich flavor supplied the Demon with renewed energy much like drinking coffee to recharge your body. Wide and awake, Toru tried to relish the taste of sweat for as long as he could. Drool streamed down around the corners of his mouth.

As a shark is drawn to blood in the water, Toru craved the blonde boy’s tantalizing flesh. “Thank you for the meal.”

“K-Kirishima!!”

There was no getting around it: Toru had forfeited his humanity all for the sake of his hunger. The demon within had escaped its binding leaving the human side to rot away in the mental prison. In his madness, Toru slammed the cups on the ground and pitched Kei at the wall. Kei was not even granted a second to catch his breath. He looked up to bear witness to a terrifying sight. His grip becoming increasingly tighter, Toru lowered his head until his hot breath wafted over Kei’s face.

Kirishima’s lips pressed against Kei’s stopping short of having his tongue assault the inside of his mouth. Kei’s heart fluttered at the uncertainty of what he should be feeling. It should be fear, but seeing Toru stare at him with such intensity flushed his cheeks red.

Instead of bright, colorful surroundings of the outside world, Kei was instead thrust into the cramped, inconceivable darkness of Toru’s mouth. The Demon’s taste buds danced around with intoxication at the overabundance of the salty taste of Kei’s flesh pressing on his tongue. It reminded him of tangy pork buns the thought only making him more famished.

Voracious swallows drew Kei’s head down the entrance of Toru’s gullet. Kei tried to breathe but he was being crushed by the tight throat. His face crammed into the rippling walls stretching out the tight skin of Toru’s throat. Echoes of his scream melted through Toru’s neck in ambiguous mumblings until he burst through the sphincter of Toru’s stomach.

Toru massaged his prey’s back and adjusted his jaws around Kei’s shoulders. The Demon of Sakuragi’s hips bucked and ground against the front of Kei’s pants. He never anticipated that Kei would be so fucking good it made him horny. His crotched thrusts against Kei’s uncaring that the blonde man’s back was arching like a terrified cat’s. He was not just the man who would do the devouring; Toru wanted to tease his meal first for as long as he could. Toru pressed deeper into Kei’s front and beat harder.

Kei moaned in a mixture of humiliation, but the butterflies in his stomach filled his mind with thousands of thoughts. Toru dug into the back of Kei’s shirt and tore the fabric apart. Kei winced at feeling the tug happening in his pants. He hated himself for being so enticed by what Toru was doing, but he had to admit it: he was becoming aroused by Toru’s aggression. He should be disgusted, but his throbbing member entered its erect state and groaned for release from Toru’s incessant assaults.

Toru was now halfway down his waist. He lapped his tongue on Kei’s pecs denoting the small hints of muscle to his frame. He was a skinny man, but his abdominal muscles could be felt underneath his skin. He lathered the blonde Yakuza man’s bellybutton drawing out Kei’s suffering.

Toru’s buttons ripped from their seams and fell to the ground to allow more room for the large meal. With Kei being around the same size as Kirishima, he would obviously make for a large bulge. Toru balanced his increasing globe on the kitchen stove the slight movement catching Kei off guard. His belly shuffled around with pronounced dents and bulges.

When Toru crammed the young man’s pelvis into his salivating maw, Kei’s legs kicked on instinct and actually managed to hit Toru for a split-second. Toru used his left-hand and pushed the seat of Kei’s pants not wanting to put his meal on pause.

ULP

Kei was completely locked away inside of Toru’s stomach. Forced into a curled position, Kei’s heart beat faster. The rippling walls began pumping and secreting gastric juices. It all should be horrific, but Kei’s dick only became harder because of the sudden tightening pressing into him. He could feel the juices absorbing into his skin and pooling at his feet, but he couldn't help but feel like some carnal sin was awakening within him.

His hips bucked and stretched a dent at the top of Toru’s belly. Toru smirked in amusement. “You seriously gonna jack it while you are being digested by my stomach?”

“Shut up.”

Laughing, Toru plopped his butt on the couch and rolled to his side. Sensing something in his teeth, he picked at it with the nail of his pinky finger and pried a long strand of blonde hair from his teeth. “You are a little slut, aren’t you?”

His stomach sizzled and boiled to life overtaking the young man. He was having the time of his life. He hated himself for being such a pig, but he was over cloud nine. Or it could be that the corrosive acid is scrambling his brain. Whatever the case, he finally reached his breaking point and came. His breath staggered, and all he could do at that point was close his eyes and let the acid take him in its digestive embrace.

Toru pushed the palm of his left hand into the paunch to check if Kei was still there. Instead, he could feel specks of bones and dissolving meat churning. He pulled his arm away. Whenever you have a big meal like that, the best thing to do is sleep it off. He stretched his arms until they popped and yawned.

“At least you were good for something.”

Toru licked his chops delighted that traces of Kei’s taste still lingered on his lips.

*****************************

“Bye, Yaeka !”

Sarah and Kaeda bid Yaeka farewell and went their separate ways once school ended for the day. She had drawn a picture for her father and was hopeful that he’d enjoy it. After all, she put a lot of work into drawing and coloring it. Her eyes scanned the schoolground for her babysitter.

With luck, she did find him, but something about him felt...off. His shirt barely held the avalanche of his midriff at bay. His arms and legs were plump with fat making his movement lag. The bottom of his paunch muffin-topped above his pants. The seams of his outfit stuck to his body like glue accentuating the curves thanks to Kei padding him up. Each walk made his fattened form jiggle.

“Hey, little lady.”

Yaeka looked at her guardian for a few seconds. Millions, or even billions of thoughts and questions unsettled the young girl. “Are you okay?”

Toru gave a fake laugh and awkwardly rubbed the back of his head with his plump arm. The fat weighed down from his arms like sandbags. “ Of course, I am. Shall we go?”

He held out his hand to the young girl. She could not help but notice his fingers have gone from being thin to the size and plumpness of sausages. Regardless, she took her babysitter’s hand and looked away. Toru sighed in relief. Good, she wasn’t probing for further answers. If he could take control of the situation until they returned to the Sakuragi residence, he would be home fre -!

“Hey, guys!”

Oh, god . He knew that flamboyant voice quite well. It was his flamboyant friend from school, Rei Hojo. He could easily pick out that blonde-haired young man with the ponytail and painted fingernails from a haystack. He needed to get away with Yaeka before he notices.

Rei’s eyes widened in amazement. “Oh, wow, what happened to you, Kirishima?”

Before he could tell a convincing lie, the gay man descended on him and copped a feel of his butt. Toru’s pants were stuck against the blue-haired man’s skin making them incapable of being removed. Toru’s cheeks had quadrupled in size with his bulbous assets slightly spilling out of the back.

Toru blushed. “Please, don’t do that in public.”

Rei giggled. “But you’re so soft and plushy like a teddy bear! ~ ”

Toru groaned. He was not going to live down this ridicule, was he?

[feladi-vore]

You really shouldn’t ask me to look after your pets. I have a hard time helping myself when I get hungry... Oh well! Those dogs are much cuter as catgirl chub anyway <3

art by: https://www.furaffinity.net/gallery/kittyshoelace/

gift from: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/mumbahvx/

[teal-fiend]

human gets transported into a world where everything is made out of food.

The food people don't understand what the human is, but they're terrified of it bc the human keeps eating them???

[eldritchnoms]

I have an OC-

Basically he is a bear (not literally). He is a lumberjack, loves to drink beer and hang out at bars for fun. He is a jolly sweetheart, lives alone, but has a lot of friends and acquaintances. He is really tall and stocky in build, loves his job, yet is a very gentle guy. A gentle giant basically! But when gets a bit drunk he- tends to eat people around as a snack to his beer- He just endosomes them, dw, but he is really apologetic afterwards and always makes up to the prey in one way or another (like taking to different places, diners and such).

He doesn't have a tragic backstory or anything. He was born in middle class family, finished school and university, but decided to go for a more physical workcraft. Both of his parents are still alive and live together happily on retirement. He periodically sends them money and a little wooden carving he made. He is not exactly interested in relationships, but he is bi.

[yuco-the-alien116]

You know, I was kinda scared to introduce Cam as a pred and a vore oc. I know the rep that female humans get in the vore community. Especially how they are treated in NSFW media. So I was very scared to show her off.

But to my surprise, people are ok with her, and even love her. I was so happy to see people except her and not hate on her for being a female pred who is human (well human looking) and its giving me more confidence to draw her in more vore post. And not just her being nommed.

Anyway, thank you all for being supportive, and I love you all!