#jasonvoorheesvore

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Jason

Yeah. But seriously, I’m not sure if you meant to send this or not, but I’m gonna write for my favorite J.ason! I feel like overstimulating him today.

J.ason lets out a low groan as he feels small hands moving along his stomach. Well…small to him, at least. He’s a towering beast of a man so average-sized guys like the one tending to his stomach right now are pretty small. He’s not usually one to play with food—his momma always told him not to—but…does it count if the food is playing with him? He’s found the teens in his forest, as he always does, doing things they shouldn’t, as they always do. And J.ason took them down, one after another, sending them down to fill the void of his stomach with live, squirming meat. He had missed on though—they’d been away when J.ason attacked and came by just after he finished slurping down the last of them. He’d planned to snap this one up, too, but…instead of the usual reactions—screaming, crying, cursing, running, or all of the above—this one came right up to him and just…started rubbing his gut. Even with the man’s friends screaming for help or mercy in J.ason guts, boiling acids and strong muscles steadily breaking their bodies down in a horrible and agonizing fashion, this human was showing no hint of fear. More…fascination. And J.ason has never felt belly rubs, especially while so full, and as it turns out, they appease him like they would be a big dog. Well…J.ason is more comparable to a bear in terms of size, strength, and deadliness, but it was working on the same. The killer is one his back, groaning out as small hands rub and push along his steadily softening stomach. A roaring belch rumbles out of him after a good shove, shaking the trees around them down to their very roots. And all he gets in response is a few gentle pats to his gut, making it slosh back and forth. J.ason is going to eat this one for sure. Just…after a few more rubs. Then he’ll do it for sure.

J.ason knew that the people who intrude in his forest could be...horny. But he didn't think it'd get like this. He'd stalked after a group staying in an old house, finding the door unlocked as he walked inside. The smell of alcohol and pot was strong, so he figured that there wouldn't be much of a struggle here, but the group of guys he found passing a bong around in the living room had basically warmed him. They pulled the lumbering man over and got him down on the couch, much to J.ason's surprise. He lost his machete at some point as he felt hands moving along his body--rubbing his stomach, feeling his arms, squeezing his pecs. The men seemed absolutely enamored with how massive J.ason is, their inebriation and sudden horniness for the massive man making it so they hardly considered how strange what was going on actually is. J.ason found all of the physical attention far too much to resist, not used to the feeling at all. One of the guys noticed how much J.ason was enjoying it because the killer's pants came undone soon, letting his throbbing member poke out for everyone to marvel at. Definitely the biggest they'd ever seen. They even start to elicit guttural moans from J.ason when they take turns feeling the monster over. J.ason had never felt anything like it...and he was enjoying it a lot. Being so new to it all made him incredibly sensitive to it all and he was pretty quickly lost in the pleasure of new sensations. But his body was still made to eat--to kill--and it doesn't take long before one of the high college guys manages to get his finger stuck in J.ason's cock...and then his hand...and then he's up to his shoulder. Before long, the other guys are watching their friend being slurped up by that massive member, the man-turned-meal getting some pathetic wiggles of confusion out before he's slurped up fully and J.ason's nuts are stretched over his form. Instead of being shocked, afraid, or disgusted, the remaining guys have found the whole thing incredibly amusing, and it's not long before another one has tried shoving his hand inside to find the killer's cock slurping him down like a starving snake. J.ason isn't even doing it on purpose this time, left moaning and panting on the couch as his neglected cock gets its first real taste of meat and practically goes on a feeding frenzy, slurping down each man with the same ease and skill the killer normally manages on his own. It doesn't take long before the last of the guys is slurped down, J.ason's sack now resting on the floor, stretched tightly around them and already beginning to churn noisily. Cum drips down his length, forming a puddle on the ground as the man's hand wraps around his meat to begin jerking himself off. His balls churn and flex, effortlessly breaking down his impromptu meals down into a thick cream one after another, each powerful flex breaking another down. It's not long before J.ason throws his head back with a roar, his cock firing off like a geyser as thick ropes of cum go splattering around the living room, striking nearly every surface and painting it a thick, musky white. Clothes and bones stick to whatever surface the strike, some ending up even plastered above on the ceiling with how much J.ason is letting loose. By the time he's done, he's limp on the couch, breathing deeply and staring up with hazy eyes. The living room has been trashed, most things knocked over or thrown around and all of it coated in a few hundred gallons of cum. J.ason wouldn't leave that cabin until hours later...but even right now, lost in the afterglow, he knows why these teens enjoy this so much suddenly. And he also knows he has to find more to do it again.

Jocks have always been some of J.ason's favorite meat. Sure, overall he'd prefer it if they just stayed away, but so long as the food keeps coming to him he may as well enjoy it. The more muscular ones he gets always feels good to add to him a certain way. That's why his rough hands have the faces of a couple college athletes pressed into his pits, the killer letting out a soft growl as he gets their faces pushing in. The men don't resist him, too overwhelmed by the earth stench of the killer, so he has an easy time steadily pumping them into his body. he holds his arms up, flexing his arms over and over as he lets his body suck the two men in. Large meals like this always feel good filling out his muscles, his already strong biceps bulging out further as a couple of jocks are packed into them. He packs them away with ease and takes a few moments to simply relish in the sensation of having such strong meat packed away in his body. Then he flexes both of his arms, wet crunches and snaps coming from them as the two jocks are pulverized into a thick slurry in an instant. His arms pump up with new muscle, tingling as they become bulkier. Some of that excess protein adds to his chest as well and makes his gut swell a bit. Even his legs get thicker and after just a minute or so, a few hundred pounds of jock meat has been converted into J.ason's muscle mass. The way it makes his body tingle with sensitivity makes him groan in pleasure. He stinks a bit more with musk but hardly notices. He has more jocks to enjoy and he's not nearly done. The rest of the team wouldn't fair any better against J.ason. The killer was simply stronger than each of them, only getting stronger with each jock he fed into his pecs and pits to add to his mass. Not to mention, with each jock crushed down into bulk, J.ason worked up more of a sweat, getting muskier and slowly driving the men into a haze as they're forced to take it in with him around. After about fifteen minutes, a pair of twitching feet sink into his pecs as he takes in the team's coach. His arms are flexing down over the last few jocks he fed to his pits, and with a couple strong flexes, the coach is broken down just as easily as his team. J.ason's body continues to swell out with muscular mass, making the already large killer even more formidable. He's covered in thick muscles that exude power, even his musclegut being rather solid now. He's gotten even taller, making him a towering behemoth of a man--compared to how he was already, at least. Not to mention, he stinks like a beast, his body working up on hell of a sweat from all of that. His entire body is tingling and it's making him moan out as he feels over his new muscle carefully. He'll never get tired of jock meat.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

jason voorhees with wg and disposal? idk big strong muscle man becoming heavy with fat, especially jason, sounds so cute. and also disposal because im a weirdo

You’re right, it is cute. And I have a secret to share—I’m a huge weirdo, too.

J.ason gives his gut a squeeze and it molds around his hand like soft clay. He lets out a soft groan and lets go of it, watching it wobble when he does. There's no doubt about it. He's gotten fat. Really, he should have accepted the idea a while ago. He's noticed the way his sparse collection of clothes seem to hug his frame more and more as the days go by. Today was the day his shirt ripped open trying to fit over his empty gut, though.

It was bound to happen with his diet, really. Humans are walking calorie bombs and it seems like there's two more for every one he eats. The RV he recently tore apart groans as he steps off of it. The lingering smell of shit follows after him, a pile made up of a father and his three adult sons filling at least half of the vehicle after J.ason crashed their family camping trip. They'd been the thing to push his body past the limit and into 'definitely fat now'. He can feel the way his stomach wobbles with every step he takes and he wasn't able to get his pants to come up over his ass again.

He's still strong, of course, but all that muscle is being smothered under plush fat. But this summer has been particularly busy for him. These campers weren't even his first meal of the day. No, that was the van of stoners who thought the woods were a safe place to get as high as they want. Their van is still sitting out there somewhere, the back of it weighed down with a monster of a crap. Stoner always seems to go right through him.

There were also those college guys skinny dipping in the lake. No clothes on those meals, at least, but it was a pretty heavy meal with how many there were. He was lucky that the wooden raft they had out there held his weight. He'd bring it in if he cared enough to shovel that mountain of shit he left on it, but frankly, he wasn't too worried about where he left his shits. This was his territory, he could leave them where he wanted. It didn't do anything to stop these people from coming around.

The meal right before the family were some hunters. Tracking them down one by one was a nice change of pace. Though J.ason is happy he didn't have to deal with being shot. They never even saw him coming. Now they're just a few nasty heaps scattered around the forest like plenty of others. And then, of course, there's his latest meal which finally made his clothes stop fitting entirely.

Though, if J.ason is being honest with himself, he's been getting fatter these last several months. He really noticed if after eating that party bus of graduates. Definitely one of his biggest meals to date and, of course, the biggest shit he ever took--at least half an hour to get it all out, if that. It was the first time he really noticed he was getting fatter, though. And while usually he can work it off, he hasn't had much of a break in terms of food since then, and he's gaining faster than losing.

J.ason lets out a grunt and shakes his gut back and forth slowly, squeezing the fat between his fingers a few times. He's just going to have to get used to the new size. Cutting back on scarfing down every man that walks into his home isn't an option, and if they don't stop coming, he's just going to keep eating. Guess the weight isn't so bad, at least...it'll be nice when winter comes around for sure.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

How about prompts for slashers who try voring a victim for the first time, but end up doubled over with stomach ache because they're struggling to digest the prey?

I think there's some merit to this idea just because I think it's really funny.

The first time J.ason had tried to get rid of people on the campgrounds in the...cleaner way he'd discovered, it didn't go well. It was just a couple sleeping in a tent out in the woods, but any intrusion was not allowed. He tore through their tent with ease, dragged the two men out kicking and screaming, and began to work them down. He got one in his gullet, keeping the other's face pressed to his stomach as he gulped and slurped down such a wiggly meal. It was his first time trying it out on a live human--before, the wildlife and the occasional stray dog had been used as test subjects. As he goes to the man's waist, he threw his head back, letting those kicking legs slip right down the hatch. His stomach bloated out with a slosh as he dropped inside and he could even feel the other man shake as that gut filled out with meat. J.ason was just about to hoist the other man up into his open jaws when he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. His prey had gotten some bearing and was starting to squirm harder. He felt another sharp kick and it makes the massive groan instead. It's not long before he's on the ground, clutching his gut as it shifts and wiggles around with lively prey. Nothing J.ason has eaten so far has squirmed with so much fight and his stomach isn't quite used to something so lively. Sickly belches erupt from him as his stomach tries to do something about the heavy discomfort inside. All the while, that prey's lover is being pinned by that gut, unable to move away or fight back. He can only lay there, forced to listen and feel every little thing. He'll be next just as soon as J.ason's gut has gained its control again. And once it's used to this kind of prey, it's unlikely he'll be able to do as much damage as his boyfriend.

He wanted to be the next. He wanted to do it better than the rest. He wanted to do it in a way no one had yet. G.hostface was going to become a name everyone knew again thanks to him. But no one warned him that it was going to fucking hurt. He was splayed out on the couch in a frat house, long after a party, where his first victim--his prey--had been hanging out in an effort to clean up while everyone else was gone or drunk. It'd been a bit difficult even getting the guy pinned down, but once he'd managed that, G.hostface had an easy time horking the frat bro down like the massive slab of beef he was. But fuuuck he just won't stop moving! Every kick and shove is giving him the stomachache of a lifetime. The guy just doesn't know when to quit! He thought that eating his victims would be a new spin on the formula--knives are just so 90's, after all. But it's been an hour and he's not making any progress besides a constantly cramping gut. The killer is just grateful everyone in the house is blackout drunk because he can't stop moaning and whining or just letting out deep, harsh belches. He ends up lying on his gut, rocking back and forth while massaging it with both hands in some effort to soothe it. "Oooogh...just die already..!" He pushes down on a lump made by the man's head, blasting another harsh belch out of him. Maybe this was a bad idea after all, but it's too late to call it quits now. He just...needs to...melt this one...faster!

After getting out of that sanitarium, M.ichael could finally quell that deep hunger that had been growing inside of him for so long. At first, the blade of a knife through some flesh used to do the job, but it feels...different now. Like it's evolved. He stalks silently for something to satiate it, and he manages to find that. He stalks someone into a road stop bathroom--it's some truck driver, he didn't know the guy. It didn't matter, though. It was prey. Michael paused in the doorway of the bathroom. Prey...that word feels right. The hunger inside of him is growling. He places a hand on his stomach and finally walks in. Empty stall...empty stall...empty stall...closed stall. He kicks the door in, catching the man with his pants down. The masked killer didn't wait for him to react, he simply shoved the man back and pinned down his arms. His jaws open wide and he engulfs the trucker's head. Thick, wet gulps ring out as he sucks the guy deeper. The hunger has to be sated. This is the only way to do so. He takes his seat on the toilet as he shovels the trucker's legs down the hatch, his stomach bloating out heavily in his lap as the man is forced inside. There's a wonderful sense of bliss for all of two seconds before M.ichael feels a horrible pain shoot through his torso--the man inside his stomach has come to his senses and is thrashing about and it feels like he swallowed a live beehive. He lets out a low groan, doubling over and pressing his gut further against his legs. His hunger was sated but now he had a new issue--his body was used to only the bland sanitarium food he'd been eating for years. Live prey like this was not something his body had been prepared for, even if it was craving it. He was going to be stuck here for a while trying to get used to this feeling. But at the very least, if more prey walk in, he'll have more practice. He's going to need it, it seems.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Do you have anymore Jason Voorhees pred prompts?

He is easily one of my favorite fictional men to crush on, which also means he is one of my favorite to write for. And since I'm still in such a massive fandom mood, I absolutely have some more! In fact, they’ll even fit a bit of a theme I like.

Every few years, they’d try to fill up the little houses around the lake with people. Summer homes, usually, where people will show up. A couple fathers and their sons, maybe some other family as well. A group of friends wanting to get away from it all for a while. College kids looking for a place to spend their summer, away from rules and responsibilities. None of that ever truly mattered to J.ason. All he saw were intruders on his lake, his territory...and meals. It was surprising to him how fast these homes could fill every year. Cheap homes sell fast to the right people, but that was nothing he really considered or even concerned himself with. All he knew was they needed to be emptied out every time they filled up. No matter who they were or how many people, J.ason made sure to pick off each and every man entering his domain and sending them down into his powerful guts to be mulched down with ease. This summer had especially been busy for him, though, and he found himself spending half of the week just beached with a stuffed gut, forced to sit and digest all the meat he had devoured before moving onto the next house. He knew, this early in the summer, they’d likely be sold again by the end of the season, but he’d be hungry again by then as well.

In the winter months, J.ason didn’t get as much food around his neck of the woods. Lakes didn’t seem appealing to people in such frigid temperatures, it seems. But it wasn’t always empty. Sometimes people would come around to enjoy one of the houses as a winter lodge. J.ason liked it when he could get into a house during such cold seasons. They usually had fires roaring away in their living room and he could sit down by it with a full stomach and enjoy the warmth he missed this time of year. He would almost say he liked it when people came by in this season. Not that that stopped him from devouring them out of their homes and letting them digest in his stomach. After all, that was part of why he liked having them around so much. Nothing beats digesting a heavy meal in such peaceful warmth.

When some men had come by his part of the woods today, likely to check out the houses he had been emptying out, he had heard them talking as he was stalking them down. Something about “feeding the thing in the forest”. Well, J.ason might not always be the brightest man around, but he knew he was the only ‘thing’ in the forest doing so much eating out of these homes. It was enough to make him back off for now, and sure enough, he had people in those homes within the week to devour. There was even an effort to get the lake camp reinstated, which he very effortlessly put an end to in a single day. J.ason would consider taking on the ones sending so many people into his forest, but as he let out a massive rattle of a belch into the forest, he decided that he would accept the free food...so long as it kept him sated.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

The only thing that beats slashers as preds? Slashers as prey.

You are absolutely right. Time to snack on some deranged killers.

G.hostface had just finished leaving behind what used to be the best friend of the guy he was tormenting. It was so satisfying to digest that guy alive and leave him as a pile on the floor. He pulled out his phone and dialed up the same number the always did for a bit of taunting, but he was surprised when it was the guy who spoke first. "Guess what, asshole?" G.hostface pauses, not sure what his prey was getting to. "...what?" "I traced your phone, fucker!" G.hostface blinks. He did...what? He didn't get much more time to think about it before he was pinned to a wall from behind. He hadn't even realized the call was coming from inside the house, and now it was too late, his head engulfed in another man's maw. He squirmed and yelled, but his hefty frame was effortlessly slurped down the hatch, his phone coming back up with a wet belch. Seems like his game of cat and mouse ended early, and he was the mouse now.

J.ason knew someone was invading his forest, which is why he was stomping through the hunt them down. He'd had a few un ins with them already, and they were surprisingly difficult to take down. When he ended up being strung up in the air by a snare, he wasn't too happy. The cocky survivalist came out under him with a hunting knife, as if that was going to do anything. Jason swung his machete, slicing the rope holding him up with ease, and he fell straight down...into the survivalist's gullet. The man didn't even need to gulp as the heavy killer drops straight into his gut, the machete falling to the ground next to him the same time his gut bounced and sloshed with its sudden meal. He let out a deep belch, a hockey mask flying gout and hitting the ground as hsi gut begins to move around wildly. Not exactly what he had in mind to take the killer down...but he could work with this.

M.ichael was a stalker. He knew how to stay out of the way and out of sight when it came to tracking down his prey. He's light on his feet and moves quickly and silently at all times. But he can't control the environment, and the door he opened creaked so loudly that it was impossible not to notice. The man he'd been stalking was up in an instant, and M.ichael acted fast, trying to take the guy to the floor and devour him. But...it didn't work. M.ichael was shoved back too hard and went toppling over the couch with his prey. They land, and the s.hape finds his head somewhere dark and went. Then the gulping starts up, and it takes no time at all for him to get devoured by his would-be prey. The man sits back down on his couch, panting heavily with his gut now settled in his lap, already starting to churn around his meal. "...weird night, huh?"

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Unwilling slasher preds, if you please!

Hm hm, an interesting prospect. I can't think of anything that'll make a deranged killer want to kill you less than being waaaay too into it, so...

No, no, no! It was wrong! All of it was so wrong! G.hostface had been playing this for weeks--no, months! He had everything planned out so perfectly and it had gone so well! Friend after friend, screaming and begging as they slide down his gullet and into his ever fattening gut, digesting away so that he could use them to taunt his true prey. It was all going so perfectly! And then that bastard, the one this was all about, the person he wanted to scare and torture so badly, was into it? When he'd finally come around to claim his prey, the guy was begging to be his food. How could he have possibly missed this?! There's no point in it if this is what he wanted..! He had tried to leave, refuse to play along at all, but he was pinned to a wall quickly, hands groping his fat gut. The look in his prey's eyes...it wasn't fear. It was wrong. And yet he felt those hands soon shoving into his maw, down his gullet, and he had no choice but to swallow again and again and again until the guy was curled up deep in his stomach, wiggling around and making only the happiest of noises. This was not how it was supposed to go...

J.ason was...oh so very conflicted. On one hand, he was glad to be getting rid of the frat boys invading his camp and tainting his territory. On the other hand...the absolute vulgarity in it all made his stomach churn uncomfortably. Normally they would freak out or plead or run. And of course, he would always track them down and claim his meals. But this group of guys were just...different. Made it was something they smoked or the beer they'd been drinking, or maybe he was just unfortunate this time, but they were getting...really into it. After he guzzled down the first two guys, he had assumed all the bouncing around in his gut was struggling...he was wrong. he knew he was wrong from the way the other guys would rub his stomach and beg to be next with hazy, drunken, lustful eyes. J.ason very quickly wanted nothing to do with them, but even a powerful man like him was no match compared to needy, desperate prey. Each guy was able to force themselves down his gullet one way or another, sliding into his gut to join the rest of the group in their depravity. In the end, they were all down the hatch like they wanted to be, but J.ason was left wanting nothing more than to spit them up and chase them away. But he knew there was no choice but to give them what they wanted, as much as it stood against everything he worked for.

M.icheal was only in it for the hunt. He didn't care about the taste of his prey, or their size, or how long they lasted in his stomach. He liked the stalking, the preying, and chase and the thrill, and the look in their eyes when he finally caught them. And then of course, he ate them, like one would do to any piece of food they had gotten. But this one was different. There was no chase. No, instead, this one had cornered M.icheal, hands on his chest as he looked up with big puppy dog eyes. Being told that his prey wanted to be eaten was...different. M.icheal usually didn't express much emotion, but disgust was something on the tip of his tongue now. He pushed them away and tried to leave, but the prey refused, getting in his way again. When he tried to toss them aside, they grabbed onto him tightly, and when he lifted them up to carry them away, they'd shoved their hands into his mouth and started wiggling deeper. M.icheal's gullet had never released its grip on his prey, and he'd always considered that a good thing, until right this moment, when the one who took all the fun out of it was caught in its snare and sinking deeper. He hated that he was overpowered like that, and even if the prey was now in his stomach, he was going to do everything he could to ensure they enjoyed this as little as possible.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

How about some accidental first time vore with slashers. If you want how about some weight/muscle gain and disposal too?

The first time J.ason had ever eaten another person had, in reality, been a complete and utter accident. He never tried to hurt people at the start, really. He just wanted them out of his forest and away from his home. He just wanted to be left in piece and quiet. But teens never seemed to listen, and they always seemed to love coming into his woods and making trouble. He's usually been able to chase them off, but sometimes they would just harass him in return. And this time had been one of the worst, after one of them managed to follow him back to the cabin he was staying in. The college frat boy had broken in, looking for the man to yell at him some more in a drunken stupor. J.ason ended up in a tussle with him, the drunk college bro managing to get them to topple over and...well, his head ended up in J.ason's maw. The big guy had been taking out his predatory tendencies on the local wildlife, and this was the first time a human had ever wound up in his maw. But he was always taught to finish all of his food, so he just started taking thick and heavy gulps until the student was packed away behind his gut. Even drunk, the guy squirming and cursed, making J.ason belch thickly. And he realized...he was still very hungry. And there was still a lot of teens in the woods to pick off. And they would hardly be the last.

M.ichael's first ever prey had very much been on purpose. Growing up in the institution under Loomis's watch hadn't done anything to help him. If anything, it made him worse, and as he grew up, those predatory urges had grown with him. The man was a predator, a hunter, and he needed prey to eat. The facility was full of it, too, it seems. People in small rooms with nowhere to hide, guards with patterns that could be watched and memorized, doctors that came by the same time every day. It was a doctor that had gone down the hatch first, in fact, due to how easy that was to get. He'd tried to give M.ichael some medication, but as soon as he reached a hand out to the man, it was snapped up and he was almost effortlessly slurped down. The guard that tried to save the doc was next, packed away just as easily and leaving M.ichael with a set of keys. He could have gone to eat the other patients or staff, but he was sated with that, he realized. It wasn't fun...there was no sport to it at all. So he simply used those keys to leave, devouring anyone that tried to stop him. He knew the outside world would have much better prey to hunt.

H.arry Warden was famously known for the voracious act in those caves, but no one knew the real story. The miner had certainly eaten his companions, yes, but it wasn't all blood and guts like the story goes. No, they'd gone down whole and alive, each one begging and kicking as H.arry swallowed them down. He was hungry, and he didn't want to die. He wanted that a lot more than the rest, it seems. Not one of the six men in those caves with him could fight him off, and as the last one went slithering down to his guts, and he put his mask back into place, he knew that he was going to live thanks to their delicious sacrifice. And once he was done churning all of them down, he was going to set his sights on those bastards up above that left him here to die, too. After all, he's going to need more food once his companions are done churning. A lot more food.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

I know you don't do much macro/micro but I'd love some prompts for slashers who like to play with their micro snacks before gorging themselves on them, if you're up for it

Oh yeah, sure!

The size of M.ichael's prey never matters to him. When he's set his sights on something, he's going to eat it. Even if those somethings are barely a few inches tall. He managed to find an entire group of them, presumably having been trying to avoid a sudden rain storm in his house. But now they were his to play with for their game of cat and mouse. Each person was scooped up, one after another, and popped into his mouth to be swallowed down. No matter what they did and where they tried to hide, M.ichael was able to grab and eat them with utter, laughable ease. His gut was a little bloated after the eighth one slipped down the hatch to join the rest squirming in his gut. Not as filling as his typical prey, but it was never about being full. It was about the hunt. With a rough smack and a belch, he was sated for the time being.

There was nothing J.ason couldn't find in his own forest. He knew every bush, every tree root, every single fallen leaf. There wasn’t a damn place the group of tinies that had entered his space could hide in that he wouldn’t find. They still did their best--in a forest, tinies have a lot of options. But there wasn’t a one J.ason couldn’t find, and each person he discovered was roughly grabbed, popped into his mouth, and gulped down. His already soft muscle gut didn’t bloat out at all when he sent the last of them slithering down his gullet, but he could feel the mass of meat moving around inside. He simply belched into the forest and lumbered off to rest after dealing with his latest set of intruders.

G.hostface realized there was just the slightest of issues with the person he was tormenting. They were a tiny, as were all of their friends, and that wouldn’t give him very good audio to work with on phone calls. So, the masked killer decided he’d change the formula a bit and go with video calls and recordings. He never showed his face, of course, but he’d make sure to show the camera each of his catches in his maw, sitting on his tongue and trying to limb out but only slipping further in until a gulp sucked them right down his gullet. But one of them wasn’t satisfying at all, and he ended up eating the entire bunch in one night, including his initial target. Now he had all these vidoes and no one to show...but he knew there were freaks out there that’d like it. Hell, maybe he can use them to find a new target.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Something about slashers and mass vore sound like they belong together— something with Bubba, Freddy, or Jason maybe?

B.ubba whimper as his guts churned heavily. He's used to eating a lot, sure, but an entire bus of college students? That had been a bit much to handle at once. It was only twenty people, sure, but his gut was definitely at his comfortable capacity. He was lucky to have gotten off the bus in the first place after eating them all! He felt a little sick having to get back to his basement, and his family had kept calling him a "greedy pig" when they saw him. But now he was in the comfort of his space. It was just him and his large gut working on churning down all that fresh, squirming meat. And really, once he got past the slight discomfort, he was enjoying it a lot. Maybe he could even go for some dessert...if he's lucky, another car will break down nearby soon.

F.reddy didn't particularly have a limit to how much food he could eating. Being a dream demon, he really could handle just about any amount of food. There were no limits in the dream world. But when your gut is bigger than you are and your prey can't really see you past it, that tends to take away from the fear just a bit, it seems. So he has to self impose his own limit when he ends up going after a large group of guys at once. Frat parties are especially bad about leaving a large swath of young men completely unconscious for him to pick off in all sorts of delicious ways. But even hungover frat guys aren't scared of someone who didn't look like he could chase you, let alone move from his spot, even if he did just eat nearly fifteen other guys at once. It really pisses him off, but it just reminds him why he likes going after the younger guys. No respect!

A large company must have bought out Camp C.rystal L.ake, judging by the fact that a nice bus had pulled up and dropped off a lot of young guys to work as counselors. J.ason had counted almost thirty of them. That seemed a bit much, but he was never one to complain. He learned to clear everything off his plate as a young boy, and that hadn't changed at all. In one night, all thirty men were gone, having disappeared into his constantly expanding stomach. The following belch could be heard all the way in the next town over as Jason drags himself off to relax and digest his heavy meal. Maybe he'll finally get his point across with the ensuring pile the squirming group of guys make...but he kind of hopes he doesn't and they send more.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

I’m going to start really indulging now, so we’re doing some s.lasher vore prompts.

M.icheal M.yers, The Shadow, considered inhuman by all. He is thought to be nothing more than the embodiment of pure evil. Even if this is true, he has the body of a human, and that body gets hungry. That’s why he stalks people around town, hunting down the perfect prey. He’s not a picky man, not at all, but he has to be careful. Guys in big groups aren’t any good. So are the ones standing in plain view of other people. He won’t get anywhere eating a guy that’s still inside the bar or diner he’s waiting outside of, either. But there’s always the one. The guy who goes off on his own, walking down the street late at night in the dark. There’s that feeling of being watched, but he never sees anyone around him. Not until the shadow is behind him. Then he’ll get one moment to see those open jaws and then...ULP! Down he goes, bloating out Micheal’s guts. He’s a good meal, but he’s still hungry. He’s always hungry. He sees another, stepping out of their front door. He’s on the hunt again.

G.hostface is an enigma. There isn’t just one G.hostface, there’s as many as there needs to be. As many times as fear needs to be struck into the hearts of people. It starts with picking out the group of guys to target. He’s seen all the movies, he knows the drill. Find the group of future victims and start targeting them. Take one down quick, one that won’t be noticed. A few gulps and he’s gone. Then call the one being saved for last, say something cryptic and belch into the phone. Maybe hold it up again his gut so the muffled yells and thick gurgles can be heard. One by one they’ll go down, devoured by the killer all to get at one person. The big, delicious treat. The sweet dessert of the meal. But fear always tastes so much better, and that fear is best when he’s the last one standing and gets to see G.hostface’s costume stretched across a thicker gut and fattened hips before the final guy goes to join it.

H.eelshire mansion is a beautiful place with one seemingly strange thing about it. As the caretaker of the house, you’re also there to watch after the doll. The old couple that left you there gave you rules to follow, and being nice and professional, you follow them. You weren’t sure how seriously to take it until things began disappearing. Your boxers, food in the fridge, any guy that came by. In a month, you’d cycled through five grocers, ten mailmen, and you definitely know people have knocked on the door only to be gone when you answered. And then there’s the noises in the wall. Thumps and belches and deep, churning groans, like someone ate too much and had a stomach ache. You’re starting to realize that B.rahms might not just be a doll, but that’s usually as far as people got before they disappeared, too. Hopefully you’ll be different. He seems to like you.

//Explicit disposal ment. under cut

J.ason V.oorhees is a large and intimidating man. Living in the woods around C.amp C.rystal Lake, he’s like it’s protector. Any man that enters those woods or that old, abandoned camp site goes missing. The people who live in the area know it’s Jason’s doing. No one else seems to listen. It happens every summer. A couple looking for some place secluded? Gone, usually with a belch. A group of college students looking for a place to get drunk and party? It only takes one night to clear one of those groups out, one or two at a time, but none left over. Hikers? Birdwatchers? Some lost tourist? Gone, gone, gone. No one’s brave enough to go collect what’s left. Acid stained clothes that got belched up, cars that have been left to time, cabins left dirty with empty beer bottles and toppled furniture from struggling guys devoured right out of them. And, of course, steaming piles of crap of various sizes that are left in the woods as a warning. Ones that are never heeded, it seems. Jason hates all the intruders, but in the end, they keep him very, very well fed. If they didn’t, he might have to start expanding his territory, and no one wants that.

What’s that phrase again? ‘You get eaten in your dreams and you get eaten in real life?’ That sounds wrong, but that’s how F.reddy K.ruger works. He loves targeting the younger crowd, recent high school graduates and college freshmen are his main prey of choice. Bright eyed guys ready to enter the world as adults, only to find themselves in a nightmare like a defenseless child. You can run and hide and cry all you want, but he’ll hunt you down, and he’ll devour you whole. And come morning, all that’ll be left in your bed is a fresh pile of crap to be found by your roommates. A signal that they’re next on Freddy’s menu, no doubt. He always loves it when his meals have a second course waiting for him.