#micro prey

[nombitenary]

THANK YOU ALL FOR 143 FOLLOWERS SEEMINGLY OVERNIGHT WHAT THE FUCK. WHERE DID YOU PEOPLE COME FROM. thank you all for sticking around and being so kind to myself and my lil guy! Here's a quick doodle of him celebrating. I think he deserves to be about that full of little guys <3

[foolishllama17]

"Ohh man how did I wake up full again" unbeknownst to me my tiny boyfriend wanted to surprise me but fell in my mouth trying to be romantic and kiss me ...and me being a pred once he was in me it was instinct to swallow sucks to because I loved him and once he landed in my stomach he obviously freaked out and tried to get me awake but I fall asleep to prey in my stomach so unfortunately I would not even wake up thus my boyfriend was digested all while I was asleep

[hungryfan45]

10. Book

Gregg Sulkin had no idea where this weird book came from, it didn’t even have a printed title. But he needed a new read, so thought to take a look. As he flips through the pages he’s bewildered by how much smut and vore there is. The stories each go into detail of some poor fool getting vored, all with illustrations of the events. Even weirder, some of the names he recognizes! The newest story is about a man named Parker Sawyers?! There’s even drawings that look just like him being eaten by another man. Gregg flips towards the next story morbidly curious, and sees the pages are blank. Suddenly the book glows and sucks him inside the pages. The next victim finds the new story, accompanied with drawings of Gregg being ambushed and stunk by the antagonist of his story.

End of story.

[mealwyrmart]

Muttley’s lovely chubby little Sandshrew, Riley (She/Her) tormenting my little Joltik fellow. And everyone he loves(loved?)

[feladi-vore]

Glllllllp~ <3

The prey is my friend Ziel! :33 she’s a very tasty little wolfy ;33

Artist: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/50733166/#cid:170199008

[wholegrainvore]

A giant sitting back in his chair in complete satiety, one hand underneath his huge, quivering belly as it tries its best to digest the tribute he’s given it.

And you. Sitting on the table in front of him.

“Now, that,” he purrs, his voice thick with pleasure and eyes half-lidded, “Was delicious. It’s a shame I’m out of room, though.”

He hums, a cruel sound. “Poor little thing, all alone.”

His stomach gives a long, wet groan, and he smiles down at the proof of his overindulgence, kneading his fingers into his gut fondly. “Though, by the sound of things, hopefully I’ll be able to get you settled in sooner than later. No need to fret. Let’s just enjoy each others company in the meantime, hm?”

[urfavoritewriter]

Death Row’s Last Meal

Commission for an anonymous user here on Tumblr, thank you for commissioning me and letting me post it!

Content: M/M, Oral Vore, Chewing, Teasing, Cruel Pred, Graphic Digestion, G/T, Macro/Micro, Unwilling Prey

Bang bang bang!

The incessant knocking on Kyle's door reverberated through his apartment, each thud intensifying the curiosity and irritation etched across his face. As he approached the peephole, he saw two individuals in suits, their expressions serious, the weight of an unusual task etched on their features. He reluctantly opened the door, skepticism emanating from his eyes.

"Kyle?" the first agent asked, holding up an official-looking device for verification.

"Yeah, that's me. What's this about?" Kyle grumbled, rubbing his eyes, trying to make sense of the situation.

The second agent sighed, a weariness in his voice. "Kyle, this isn't easy for us either." They gave each other a slight look, "Look, we're here because of Dawson's last meal request. He asked specifically for you."

A moment of awkward silence went by, Kyle not fully comprehending. "By law, we need to shrink you and take you to him."

Kyle's eyes widened, and he leaned back, hoping this was some absurd prank. "Hold on, you're telling me I'm on the menu for some death row guy? Are you being for real?"

Both agents exchanged glances, a shared acknowledgment of the surreal nature of their mission. The first agent spoke, "Dead serious, Kyle. Dawson's last meal is, well, you."

Kyle laughed nervously, searching for any sign that this was a prank, but the agents' stony expressions persisted. "This has to be a fucking joke, right? You two bought these outfits to fuck with people?"

The second agent shook his head, showing official badges that certified their government affiliation. "We wish it were a joke, Kyle. This is the law, and... Well, it's happening whether you want it or not."

In a desperate attempt to shut out the surreal intrusion, Kyle slammed the door shut, pouring all his strength into resisting the inevitable. But the agents, with a calculated and practiced force, countered, pushing back against the door, and it swung back open, knocking Kyle off balance. He stumbled and fell to the ground, swearing vehemently.

"Get the fuck off me, assholes!" Kyle shouted as they ambushed him, "I still have my rights!"

The first agent, unfazed by Kyle's protests, retorted, "You have the right to be someone's last meal, buddy. Now quit resisting, or it's gonna get real ugly for you."

In the midst of the struggle, the second agent grabbed a syringe from his pocket. "Hold still, Kyle. This will be a lot easier for everyone if you just cooperate."

"Like hell, I will!" Kyle yelled, desperately trying to break free. He managed to shout for help, hoping someone in the hallway would intervene, but his cries seemed to vanish into the empty corridor.

The first agent rolled his eyes. "Come on, man, we're just doing our job. This will happen one way or another."

The second agent, seizing the moment, injected the shrinking liquid into Kyle's forearm. The effects were almost immediate. Kyle's body began to shrink rapidly, his clothes sagging around him as he tumbled to the ground.

"Fuck... you," Kyle managed to stammer before beginning to shrink rapidly.

As the shrinking process took hold, Kyle felt an odd sensation throughout his body. It started as a tingling in his extremities, a strange vibration that gradually enveloped him. His surroundings shifted; the once-familiar dimensions of his apartment now transformed into a vast and towering landscape.

The agents loomed above him, their figures expanding to colossal proportions. Every detail of their faces, their clothing, became magnified as if he were viewing them through an ever-zooming lens. The ambient sounds around him intensified, a cacophony of footsteps in the hallway now resembling distant thunder.

Kyle's clothes, initially snug, began to loosen and slide off his diminishing form. The fabric sagged like oversized drapes, eventually abandoning his shrinking frame altogether. Soon, he found himself entirely exposed, his nakedness accentuating the vulnerability of his reduced size.

The room, once comfortable and familiar, now assumed an alien quality. The furniture, once easily reachable, became insurmountable obstacles. The texture of the carpet transformed into a vast expanse, the fibers now strands that were difficult to navigate.

The agent, his colossal hand blotting out the surroundings, swiftly closed in on Kyle. The once-mighty punches that Kyle could deliver were now feeble, like the flailing of a helpless insect. With a deft motion, the agent scooped him up, his grasp securing around Kyle's diminished form.

Struggling within the confines of the agent's grip, Kyle found himself powerless against the giant force that now controlled his fate. The agent, nonchalant and almost indifferent to Kyle's tiny struggles, deposited him into a clear, sealed zip-bag.

Through the transparent barrier, Kyle could see the agent's face, looming large and expressionless. The casual yet authoritative tone persisted as the agent remarked, "Be grateful he didn't ask for you to be cooked." The implication of such a statement hung in the air, emphasizing the grim reality of his situation, as he zipped it shut.

Hours later, the legal rigmarole finally concluded, Kyle found himself delivered to the designated death row inmate. The muscular, toned man wore the standard orange inmate clothing, his blue eyes sharp and piercing. His dirty blonde hair and slight facial hair added a rugged edge to his appearance. The chiseled jaw and the smirk that played on his lips gave him a cruel demeanor.

As the zipped bag containing Kyle was handed over, the death row inmate's demeanor remained unapologetically harsh. "’Bout fuckin' time you got here. Was gettin' real hungry," he declared with a casual yet menacing tone. The implication was clear – Kyle was not just a shrunken man; he was a meal, a dehumanized object to be consumed and cruelly teased, his whole life turned upside-down in an instant based on the whims of a criminal, as law had it.

Dawson unzipped the bag, revealing the shrunken Kyle. The inmate's large, calloused hand grabbed him, his grip firm and unyielding. There was no gentleness in his touch, only a cruel sense of control.

He held Kyle up, eyeing him with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "Look at you, all fuckin' tiny. Little shit. You thought you were special, didn't ya?" Dawson's words dripped with cruel teasing, as if reveling in the degradation of his prey. "Well, you're just a meal for me, and let me tell ya, it's gonna fuckin' suck."

Dawson's laughter echoed, a harsh sound that matched the cruel amusement in his eyes. He brought Kyle closer to his face, his breath hot and heavy. "You're gonna feel every bit of pain as I chew on you, and then, buddy, the real fun starts when you slide down my throat. Most painful fuckin' digestion you can imagine."

The casual tone of his threats, peppered with obscenities, heightened the brutality of the situation. There was no mercy in Dawson's words, only a brutal honesty about the agony that awaited Kyle.

Kyle squirmed desperately in Dawson's grasp, his small form doing little against the inmate's powerful hold. "Please, man, you can't do this! I'm a fucking person, not your damn snack!" he pleaded, his voice a mix of fear and desperation.

Dawson only laughed, a harsh sound that echoed in the small space between them. "Oh, you're a person, alright. A person 'bout to become my next meal. A person ‘bout to be dead.” Dawson gave Kyle a clear view of his abs, before speaking again. “See that, little fucker? That’s where you’re goin’. And that’s where you’re fuckin’ dyin’.”

Kyle, in protest, physically struggled against the giant man's brutal grasp. Dawson chuckled at Kyle's feeble squirms. "Aw, ain't you a little fighter?" He squeezed his tiny captive tighter, relishing the feeling of the struggles against his palm. "Guess it don't matter how much you fight, you're endin' up in my gut anyway."

He lifted Kyle closer to his face, opening his mouth wide. "Take a good fuckin' whiff, 'cause you're gonna be smellin' a lot more of it soon." Dawson huffed in Kyle's face, his breath hot and tainted with the scent of the impending doom that awaited him. He smirked at Kyle's discomfort, finding perverse pleasure in the psychological torment.

"Fuck, that stinks!" Kyle said, the smell being more suffocating due to his small lung size. "You can't do this, you're violating my rights as an upstanding citizen."

"The law ain't gonna save your tiny ass, being a law-abiding citizen was what got you here in the first place." Dawson taunted. "You're just another meal for me, a criminal eatin' up a supposed 'civil' citizen. Life's a bitch, ain't it?" The casual cruelty in Dawson's tone only intensified the despair of the situation, his words a relentless reminder of the power he held over Kyle's fate.

Dawson's tongue snaked around Kyle, pulling him into the hot, cavernous expanse of his mouth. The taste was overwhelming, a mixture of saliva and the remnants of Dawson's last meal, probably from yesterday. The smell, a pungent blend of mouth odor and saliva, hung heavily in the air.

As Dawson sucked on Kyle, his tongue pressed against him, the firm grip restricting any chance of escape. The saliva clung to Kyle's naked form, making his struggles more futile with each passing second. Dawson reveled in the feeling of his tiny captive squirming, the vibrations of his movements causing him immense pleasure.

Then came the chewing. Dawson didn't hold back; he bit down with force, causing sharp pain to radiate through Kyle's diminutive body. The pressure was enough to bruise, to inflict injury, but not to end him. Each chew bit down harder, causing evident bruising on his body.

"Fuck!" Kyle's pained expletive escaped through the chaotic mess of Dawson's chewing, his teeth pressing down on him from top and bottom, coated with saliva and unrelenting in their biting.

Dawson grinned, feeling the distress coursing through Kyle. "Ain't it somethin', bein' chewed up alive? You're just a lil' appetizer before the real show in my gut." The malice in his tone amplified the horror, making each chew a brutal punctuation mark in the merciless consumption of Kyle.

Dawson continued his nonchalant demeanor as Kyle slid down his throat, the struggling form creating an evident bulge in the muscular curve of Dawson's neck. The descent was a hot, tight journey into the core of the beast, the casual cruelty persisting even as the tiny man entered the churning depths of Dawson's stomach.

The sensation of Kyle arriving in the stomach was marked by a distinct, guttural sound.

"BuUuRp!"

Escaped from Dawson's lips, a casual belch that coincided with the finality of Kyle's journey. The stomach walls embraced Kyle, the heat and pressure intensifying as he settled into the acidic pool. Dawson, seemingly unfazed, leaned back, savoring the moment as he patted his now-filled belly.

"Agreed to let 'em keep me alive until you're digested. Don't think you're gonna have a quick end, Kyle."

Dawson, smirking with a cruel glint in his eye, decided to make it more personal. He placed a flat hand against his abdominal muscles, his abs bulging out slightly due to the tiny's presence. "Now, little man, let's have some fuckin' fun."

With a sudden flex of his abdominal muscles, Dawson tightened his stomach around Kyle. The pressure was immense, a crushing force that left Kyle gasping for breath. Dawson's abs, chiseled and defined, clenched with power. The cruel twist of a smile adorned Dawson's face as he relished in Kyle's agony.

Kyle, caught in the throes of the stomach squeeze, couldn't help but swear through gritted teeth. "Fuck you, you sadistic asshole!"

Dawson's laughter filled the air as he continued to tighten his stomach around Kyle. "Squeezin' the life outta ya with my abs, and you're weak as fuck, can't do shit about it from in there."

As Dawson flexed and squeezed, Kyle's body contorted with the pressure. It was an excruciating experience, made worse by the casual cruelty of Dawson's actions. Each flex of those powerful abs seemed to mock Kyle's pain, turning the entire ordeal into a sadistic game for Dawson's amusement. The air was filled with Kyle's pained cries and the giant's taunts.

After excruciating minutes, Dawson let his stomach muscles relax and his abs bulged out slightly again. Kyle felt the squeeze subside, but his body was sore from how crushing it was. His body was now soaked entirely with acid, his skin beginning to tingle, and only now is he comprehending how much pain he's going to be in for the rest of his life.

As the hours unfolded, Dawson's stomach initiated its relentless assault on Kyle's diminutive form. The digestive acids wasted no time, greedily working through the soft flesh and bones of the tiny man. Kyle, now thoroughly bathed in the corrosive juices, experienced an agonizing digestion.

Dawson, nonchalant as ever, let out a casual chuckle, his tone laced with a cruel amusement. "Must be real cozy in there, huh? Feeling the burn?" He patted his own belly, relishing the discomfort he knew Kyle must be enduring.

The graphic scene inside Dawson's stomach unfolded with a visceral intensity. The acids burnt the outer layer of his skin, the pain unbearable as it seeped into his flesh and muscles, his body bleeding.

"Bet you're wishing you were back in your cozy apartment right about now, huh? Guess what, my body's your home sweet home now."

The relentless acids worked through muscle and sinew, reducing Kyle to a slushy mixture within the confines of Dawson's stomach. Kyle, despite his gradually-broken body, tried to fight back. Dawson, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle, couldn't help but offer another biting remark. "You're really giving my abs a workout in there, buddy. Never had a meal fight back so much."

Indifferent to the struggles within, waited for the next few hours to unfold, knowing that the graphic digestion had only just begun.

The corrosive acids, now thoroughly acquainted with Kyle's form, continued their brutal assault. The digestive enzymes, having broken down the outer layers, were now penetrating deeper into the soft tissues, liquefying them with a gruesome efficiency.

Kyle's screams, now reduced to muffled cries, echoed within the fleshy chamber. His body, once whole, was succumbing to the merciless digestive process as he couldn't bear to speak anymore, only cry. The acidic fluid turned a disturbing shade of reddish-green as more of Kyle's blood bled out of him and into it.

"You must look a fuckin' mess in there." Dawson said, rubbing his hand over the small bulge of his stomach.

The graphic scenes unfolded in gruesome detail. The acid, now reaching the deeper recesses of Kyle's anatomy, worked through organs and tissues. The distinct scent of the digestion, a putrid amalgamation of bodily fluids, hung in the air within Dawson's gut.

Kyle's life was being snuffed out brutally in Dawson's gut, the final gasps of his existence silenced by the relentless tide of digestive brutality.

Dawson, indifferent to the life he had just extinguished, burped nonchalantly. The taste of Kyle's blood lingered in his mouth. "Fuck," Dawson huffed, "You're weak as shit."

Dawson lifted his orange inmate shirt, showcasing his toned abs. "Got fuckin' destroyed." He gave it a pat.

"Best last fuckin' meal and last fuckin' thing I do with my life." He said, very content with his choice of a last meal.

[hungryfan45]

Who’s in the mood for an Easter egg hunt? This year I’ve shrunk down a ton of celebs and put them into plastic eggs as part of an egg hunt, and their only hope to return to normal is to not get found. Of course, anyone can participate, and they’re yours to keep if found. But if you can’t find anyone, you’ll be used for next year’s hunt. Sound like fun?

I got a pretty good haul this year.

[sinningtamer]

Don’t get them too ruffled.

vore day countdown: 4/8

[ do not reblog to non-kink/fandom blogs]

[voraciousvore]

Giganterra (Chapter 61)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (60) | Final Chapter/ Epilogue

Content Warning: soft vore/ endosoma, gore, fatality

Word Count: 3.1k

------ Chapter 61: The Deepest Layer of Hell ------

As Chester leaned over to test the king’s dish, he smelled Ronny. He didn’t know why, or how, since Ronny wasn’t present in the dining room. He sniffed closer and perceived that the prince’s scent was coming from the plate of pasta. He located the source and stabbed into one of the rigatoni noodles with curiosity. 

“No!” Eren gasped from below, almost inaudibly. Chester made eye contact with her and noticed her frantically shaking her head, silently pleading with him. He looked back into the noodle with renewed interest as he lifted it up. 

There he was: Ronny, smaller than an ant. He was barely a dot, like a flake of pepper, indiscernible if not for Chester’s superior olfactory capabilities. Chester barely managed to hide his surprise. Why was Ronny in the king’s dinner, miniaturized into nothing? He glanced over at King Richard. The brute was drooling over the tiny lady in his food, as expected, but appeared to be completely oblivious to the presence of his son. Chester had seen him eat enough people to know that he enjoyed terrorizing his prey before chowing down: He’d be tormenting Ronny if he intended to devour him. 

So why was Ronny here? If, by some odd twist, he’d been accidentally shrunk, he could cry out for help or run away. If he didn’t wish to be eaten, he could make himself known. That didn’t appear to be the case, and Eren’s reaction was not lost on Chester either. They were up to no good. He was certain of it. 

“Chester? Is there a problem?” King Richard questioned with impatience. Chester’s heart jumped into his throat. He had only a millisecond to make a snap decision. 

“No, sire,” Chester responded. He allowed the noodle with Ronny inside to slide off his fork back to the plate. “Oops.” 

“Then hurry up already,” the king growled. “I’m starving.” Chester picked out a different noodle and tasted it. 

“All clear,” he confirmed, and backed off, his heart hammering. He could scarcely believe what he’d just done, but the more he contemplated his decision, the more he knew it was the right one. If the prince was taking decisive action against his father, Chester wasn’t going to stop him, for he harbored no fondness for the ruthless king that ordered him to be flogged for his failures. A spark of hope ignited in his soul. If Ronny assassinated his father, and Chester won favor for allying himself with the successor in a critical moment, he had a chance to save Jackie. Chester excused himself from the dining room as soon as he was able, not wishing to be implicated in any plot in case the prince failed. 

Ronny panted from the stress, collecting himself after being dropped in a squishy mess. He slowly became aware that Chester had retreated without exposing him. However, he had little respite, burdened with the horrifying knowledge that he was about to be eaten alive. The giant began to dine on his dinner, impaling his massive fork into the pasta around Eren. He used more force than necessary, with the sole intention of frightening her. He poked her with the prongs, causing her to yelp, before scooping her up. Ronny peeked out and watched with horror as the giant’s mouth opened wide and engulfed her. He slurped her off the fork, savoring her rich flavor as he rolled her around in his mouth. 

Ronny clasped his own neck with discomfort as he watched the king swallow. The giant hummed with satisfaction, a thrumming roar, as his Adam’s apple bounced in a decisive stroke. Ronny had witnessed the king eat countless humans, and had indeed swallowed multitudes himself, yet the sight of a woman who was as big as a giantess to him being gulped down an even more massive throat produced within him a visceral reaction. He would sprint like a rabbit, if he wasn’t pinned down in his hiding spot with paralyzing fear. 

His insides lurched as the colossal fork collided against the bottom of the plate with an earsplitting screech. Metal scraped on porcelain and the eating utensil raised with a mountain of pasta noodles. The whole pile was ingested with startling speed, with minimal chewing as the goliath jaws flexed a few times in mastication before the food was sent down. 

The microscopic prince trembled. He didn’t consider the grisly possibility that he might get crushed by the giant’s molars. He may not even make it down to the stomach alive. Normally, Hardon wasn’t keen on chewing up the miniature people that he ate, preferring their frantic thrashing in his guts, but of course he wasn’t aware that live prey was currently present in his food. 

Ronny had barely processed this looming threat before the fork attacked again, this time skewering his pasta cave. The prince shrieked before quickly covering his mouth with both hands, desperate to stay quiet. He whined faintly as he flew up into the air, his stomach flip-flopping with dread. He looked out through the noodle entrance to behold a pair of titanic lips that stretched across his entire range of vision. The lips separated, opening to foul darkness. The food, along with Ronny, was thrust inside. 

Ronny belted out an involuntary scream. A barricade of teeth chomped down behind him. He jumped forward, out of the noodle as it slopped down into the pit. Ronny slapped onto a bumpy, squishy, slimy surface and struggled blindly to escape his fate as his mind overloaded with alarm. The wet carpet beneath him flexed in a rolling wave, and Ronny realized with horror he was laying on a gigantic tongue. The revelation was petrifying enough to freeze him in place. 

Whimpering uncontrollably, Ronny cranked his head back to observe the interior of the giant mouth. The roof of the mouth was ribbed and vaulted, as high above his head as the ceiling of a grand cathedral. The teeth were as big and craggy as boulders, crashing together as they demolished the pasta into paste in a mushy cacophony. Ronny’s skin gave off just enough of a magical glow to illuminate the enclosure of moving red flesh and bone around him. He bounced on the tongue as the enormous jaws chewed with chaotic, jerky motions. 

The muscular tongue shifted with sentient purpose, rubbing and sloshing against him. A wave of saliva swept him up and oscillated in the cavernous maw. The tongue reared up and slammed against him, squishing him into the enormous molars with shocking force. Ronny felt like he would pop under the strain; he harnessed all his willpower not to squirm, sucking in a deep breath before he was submerged by the wet wall of meat. He realized, with horror, that the giant was tasting him. 

Did he know? Could he recognize the taste? Ronny didn’t have time to think as the huge tongue wrestled him down into the ridge of gums. By sheer luck, he narrowly avoided getting wedged between two teeth. The pressure was unbearable, but the prince knew he’d be discovered if he struggled. He let out a soft wail as the taste buds raked his bare skin, leaving behind a thick film. Fortunately, the tongue relented, and Ronny gasped for breath as he was scooped up by the fleshy mass and backslid along a trail of saliva and processed pasta. 

“MMMMMMMM,” the giant sighed, rumbling the cavity like an earthquake. A gust of breath whooshed over the prince, and he understood with apprehension that he was approaching the base of the tongue. He raised himself up, bedraggled and saturated with filth, to behold the massive gullet yawning above him. A current of moist, malodorous air rose from the depths of the dark hole, hinting at just how far down the unplumbed chasm continued. Ronny involuntarily shuddered. 

The saliva and chewed-up slop pooled around him and started to suck back with a grotesque slurp. Ronny cried out as he realized what was happening, but was powerless to halt his descent as he slid down into the hungry black abyss below. He caught a final glimpse of the gates of fearsome teeth, the curved palate at the top, and the dangling uvula before the passageway of the throat closed around him and gulped down the mushy bolus, with Ronny mixed inside. 

Ronny, lubricated with a thick coat of spit and mucus, slid down the slippery pipeline with minimal resistance. He was so miniscule that the squeezing ripples of muscle hardly compressed him at all. He screamed and cried with the knowledge that nobody would hear him over the sloshing of fluids and the throbbing of the giant’s gargantuan organs all around him. He felt like he was descending to the center of the earth, into the molten core, with how hot and dark and deep the channel became as he fell. The esophagus felt like it would never end. 

The heat increased, and Ronny believed he could hear gurgling, like boiling magma, in the void below. As he plummeted down, a pattern like a starfish appeared at the base of the tunnel and rapidly advanced towards him. He dropped into it, squeezing through the ring of muscle and then falling an alarming distance through open space. He splashed into a stinging sea that bubbled with vociferous energy, as if alive. 

Ronny broke; being eaten alive was too much for him to handle. He was in hell. He forgot his mission as his eyes were assaulted with the horrific imagery of wrinkled, pulsing walls of dripping red that stirred the frothing contents of the stomach into a whirlpool. He was too small to resist the flow as he rotated in a steady churn in the enormous chamber, lost and helpless. There was no way out; he was trapped. 

“Oh god! Help me! Get me out of here!” he wailed as he paddled and flailed pathetically in the digestive juices. “Help! Please!” He bumped into a half-digested chunk of an unrecognizable food item and yelled shrilly. The loud grumbling of the belly as it processed the giant’s dinner was loud and disturbing, drowning Ronny in a mess of noise and vibration. He felt like he was going to die. 

Suddenly, a voice called out to him from the darkness. “Ronny!” An immense glowing figure, like a gastric sea monster, waded towards him, parting the bubbles and bits of food in a wave before her. She wrapped her fingers around his small form gently and raised him out of the muck. “Are you okay?” 

“No!” Ronny bawled. “This is horrible!” 

“I know. The first time is always the worst,” Eren replied soothingly. “But you’ll be okay. The magic will protect you from digestion. You won’t be harmed—physically, at least.” Her features softened with sympathy. 

Though she was trying to comfort him, her words were a sickening punch to the gut for the prince. He’d inflicted this exact torture on hundreds of humans throughout his lifetime, without a second thought. He felt even worse when he thought of Tanya, and how he had swallowed her in a terrible betrayal, leaving her to marinate in his belly for hours. Really, he deserved to suffer. Yet, she had the kindness in her heart to forgive him. His appreciation for her blossomed all the more. 

Eren held Ronny while they were in the giant’s belly, doing what she could to calm him down. He was especially spooked when King Richard spoke. The reverberation of his bass voice caused the pathetic little prince to cower and cover his ears. Eren placed her hand over him protectively. She might not be so kind to him when he was big, but when he looked so frightened and small she couldn’t help but take pity on him. 

A few hours passed, with Ronny barely holding himself together. The time came for Eren to leave, as the giant king swallowed down the rope to let her out. “Sorry, Ronny. I must go,” she said, lowering him down into the acid pool. She released him into the foul waters and grasped the rope with both hands. 

“Don’t leave me in here alone,” Ronny squeaked with alarm. “Please!” 

“Be brave, Prince Ronny. And good luck.” Eren was hauled up, until she squished through the entrance to the stomach and disappeared from sight. Ronny floundered in the gastric soup, his heart sinking like a stone. The giant shifted his body, producing choppy waves of acid that nearly pulled the prince under. 

Time crawled by at an agonizingly sluggish pace. Ronny grew fatigued from swimming and straining to stay afloat in the acid, constantly swirled by restless muscular contractions. He was too tiny for his feet to touch the bottom, and the stomach lining was too slick to provide any stability. He was already afraid, but the long, exhausting hours inside the reeking, throbbing sack wore him down to a nub.  

A new, insidious fear wormed its way into his psyche. What if Milton was wrong about the shrinking potion? What if the effects were permanent, or lasted days? He might never grow back. He might die in here. He was trembling not only from fear, but from weakness, as he labored to stay afloat in the circular current. Drowning, a demeaning and awful death, was a real possibility. 

As his energy reserves dwindled, Ronny observed that the digested food was draining out of the stomach, through another exit. He mustered all his remaining strength to swim away, but he got caught in the current and dragged down. With a nasty slorp, he was sucked down with the rest of the giant’s processed dinner into his intestines. 

Ronny cursed venomously as he tumbled through a large tube and plopped into a fold of intestinal lining. He sprang to his feet, only to slip in bile and smack back down into a forest of wiggly tubular protrusions. He broke out into incoherent screams and sobs. He was at his limit. He didn’t care about anything anymore, except getting out. 

“Tanya! I’m sorry Tanya!” he howled, tearing at his scalp. He felt like a total failure. This was his punishment, if he died a miserable death in this gross pit. His sanity was slipping. The rancid, harsh fumes were making him delirious. His throat was dry and hoarse from screaming so much. He believed his time was up; something had gone terribly wrong. The magic potion had failed him, cursed him, and he was going to die in here, wallowing in viscous fluids. 

He pounded the folds of flesh and villi with his fists in pure agony. “Tanya!” he repeated in a garbled sob. That was the worst part of the whole debacle. He wouldn’t be able to save her. He had failed to protect her. 

He recoiled into a ball as King Richard spoke in a blaring voice that vibrated the hollow space. The king was belittling him, mocking him for his insignificance, as if he knew exactly where Ronny was. He was sure of it. “LEON, I’M DONE WITH OFFICIAL BUSINESS FOR THE DAY. I WISH TO RETIRE TO BED WITH MY DARLING TANYA.” His purr of pleasure was as loud as a rockslide. 

“NOOO!” Ronny caterwauled to nobody. He was helpless to stop him. He could only imagine the filthy giant fingering her, rolling her nude body in his hands as he leered lecherously down at her. How scared she must be, her tiny face frozen in a look of horror. Ronny punched and kicked the rippling, dripping walls with frustration. “STOP IT!” 

A hot spark snapped inside him. Ronny bristled, placing his hand over his gut. The burning spread outward, tingling with pins and needles in an increasingly intense sensation. His bones popped and crunched like twigs and leaves underfoot. He grunted as his limbs contorted and his innards spasmed with a gush of pain. All at once, his body exploded outwards. He felt tremendous pressure on all sides as he outgrew the loop of intestines he was ensconced in, until with a sickening pop he burst through. He shredded the giant’s organs in an instant, tearing and ripping with extraordinary momentum. A cage of ribs momentarily constrained him before it shattered to pieces, spilling guts in all directions. 

Ronny suddenly found himself back to his normal size, in clean, fresh, cold air, thoroughly drenched in blood. He blinked and looked down. He was sitting on a couch in his father’s study, surrounded by strips of raw meat, loose chunks resembling ground beef, blood, and broken bones. The king’s body had bloomed like a carmine flower, leaving no corner of the room untouched by sanguine splatter. His face was unrecognizable, as was most of his form. A severed limb, still mostly intact below the shoulder, lay on the couch with the hand facing up. Tanya sat in the limp hand, dumbfounded. 

“Tanya! Tanya, are you alright?” Ronny cried, reaching for her with lurid crimson hands. She shrieked, stopping the prince in his tracks. Leon, who was standing nearby, scooped Tanya up defensively. 

“Oh my,” the advisor choked incredulously. “Prince Ronny? Is that you?” The disheveled prince was hardly discernible under the excessive layers of gore. 

“Y-yeah...” Ronny murmured. He flinched as a menacing figure approached him in his peripheral vision. He turned to face the threat, only to witness Ajax lower himself to his knee in a bow. 

“My king,” the guard stated.  

Ronny’s eyelids fluttered with confusion. “Right. I am king now.” 

“Yes...” Leon agreed. “Um... Your Majesty... why don’t we get you cleaned up? And then we can... discuss things...” He gulped, scarcely maintaining his composure. 

Ronny nodded. “Yes. Yes. That sounds like a good idea.” He shifted, wincing at the squelch of fluids beneath him. He gave Leon a very intense look. “Things are going to change a lot around here.” 

“Indeed.” 

“I don’t know the first thing about being king, or ruling a kingdom, as my father never trusted me enough to teach me properly. But you do, Leon. I’m going to need your help.” He held out a sopping wet hand. “Please.” 

Leon hesitated. His eyes scanned King Richard’s obliterated corpse with fresh understanding as he grasped what Ronny had done. He looked back up at the prince with hardened determination and firmly clenched the new king’s hand, christening his own hand in the blood of the old order. “Of course.” 

Final Chapter/ Epilogue

Tag List: @tinycoded360 @yummynomms @maybeiamdownbad

[wholegrainvore]

little Gris vore sequence featuring @dinnergirl and @koboldpreydrive :3

[massvoregalore]

I want a Jack and the Beanstalk story where Jack the twink swallows and digests all of the giant men at the top of the beanstalk

[lilithsterrarium]

preds are so fucking hot... I want to be a tiny little thing, scurrying to please someone after they just swallowed a person infinitely more useful and filling than I am, hurridly rubbing their gut and feeling my tiny dick LEAP when they let out a gargantuan belch and tell me how useless I am and they can barely feel me....

[intestinalemphasis]

Pred couple that gets each other fresh prey for Christmas, getting them bound and gagged and nicely wrapped up under the Christmas tree 🎄

Pred couples slowly feeding each other tiny preys they made into stocking stuffers 🎁

[hungryfan45]

4. Vanish

People online have been raving about Shawn Mendes’ concert where he disappeared off stage. His last song ended with him sinking into the stage followed by a puff of smoke. People are still wondering when he’ll come back. Unfortunately for the fanboys that won’t happen. It wasn’t magic that took Shawn off stage, but a carnivorous muncher, Flick the flea. Flick had way too easy of a time getting on stage, and once Shawn finished, Flick swallowed the singer whole and gave a hearty belch. Always remember the difference between a magician’s puff of smoke, vs. a muncher's burp.

One of them is much more permanent.

[voraciousvore]

Giganterra (Chapter 42)

Author's Note: I saw some discourse a few weeks ago (the day after I started this drawing, coincidentally) about how g/t people don't want their drawings with giant feet/ shoes fetishized. By all means, if you are of that inclination, fetishize the shit out of this. This is for you. I think it's pretty hot and I'm not even into feet. Ha.

Also here's a close-up of my poor girl Candy:

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (41) | Next (43)

Content Warning: violence/ threats/ cruelty, soft vore

Word Count: 2.1k

------ Chapter 42: Punishment ------

Candy sat on pins and needles as she waited the long hours for the king to wake up. As devastated as she was at being caught, she was heartened by the fact that Millie had an opportunity to escape. The poor girl deserved freedom more than anything. If Millie made it out without recapture, the sacrifice would be worth it, regardless of what King Richard did to her personally. She shuddered with dread at the possibilities. 

The cool moonlight filtering in through the window gradually gave way to cheery morning sun, rays of shining orange and yellow filtering through a thick layer of clouds that glowed red with the light. A soft breeze fluttered the curtains. The sight was serene, and beautiful, but Candy could only feel trepidation at the fate that inevitably awaited her. Just how far would the barbaric giant king go, when he discovered that Millie was gone and Candy had helped her escape? Would this be her last day, her final sunrise? 

She needed to stall for as long as possible, to maximize Millie’s chances. She schemed over what she should say when confronted. Her heart leapt into her throat when the king began to awaken, a soft murmur emanating from his lips. He brushed his fingers over his bare chest, searching for the two women that should’ve been there.  

“Mmmm... Millie? Candy?” he mumbled, still half-asleep. His hand fumbled with confusion over the conspicuously empty space. He raised his head, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Ladies?” 

He raised the blankets to check his naked belly and loins. When the tiny maidens failed to materialize, he began to search through the folds and layers of the sheets, his movements becoming more aggressive as he shook off the last foggy tendrils of sleep. His pale eyes flashed with a wrath that made Candy want to hide. However, she knew she needed to act, before he lost his temper. 

She cleared her throat. “O-over here, Your Majesty!” He spun around, his features relaxing with relief that swiftly morphed to puzzlement. 

“Candy? How did you end up in there? And where’s Millie?” He leaned over her enclosure and opened the lid, squinting as his eyes roved over the miniature furniture. 

“She’s here,” Candy assured him quickly, hoping he would accept her lie at face value. She’d organized some miscellaneous objects into a vague human shape and covered them with a sheet in one of the human beds, so it looked as if Millie was present and still sleeping. “You rolled over in your sleep and knocked us off the bed. Ajax brought us back.” 

“Ah.” The giant king still seemed confused by her explanation as he scratched the back of his head. “I see. Huh.” 

He was distracted by his manservant, who came in to help dress him and prepare him for the day. Candy’s anxiety spiked as she watched him cover his nakedness with his shirt, pants, coat, and boots. He was more intimidating with all the formal trappings of his authority. He would learn the truth soon, and he’d be enraged. A maid came in with a breakfast tray, accompanied by Chester. Candy noticed that Chester appeared distracted: He kept surveying the room curiously and sniffing the air. He could detect Millie’s scent trail. Her heart dropped to her feet. There was no hope; they had lost. 

“Ah, breakfast!” King Richard announced, his mood brightening. “Come here, my lovelies!” Candy whimpered faintly as his gigantic hand descended from above, encompassing her entire range of vision as his enormous fingers coiled around her like anacondas and lifted her high in the air. “Millie, darling, rise and shine so you can have breakfast with us!” 

Candy gulped, ensnared by the gigantic fingers. Hardon paused. “Millie?” He poked the Millie-shaped lump in the bed before pushing the sheets aside, revealing Candy’s ruse. His eyebrows twitched down. He flipped over the remaining furniture items—the other tiny bed, tables, and chairs—with simple flicks of his finger. His grip tightened around Candy with unbearable pressure, causing her to squeal in pain. 

“Candy,” he uttered venomously, his voice dropping to a threatening low. “Where is she?” Candy didn’t answer: Even if she had been inclined to do so, the crushing force around her lungs expelled all the air from her chest and prevented her from speaking. Hardon’s skin felt hot on hers, unbearably so, as he began to shake with rising wrath. 

“WHERE IS SHE?!” he roared. The vibrations of his bass voice rumbled through her, down to her skeletal structure. With a shockingly fast and violent motion, the giant man shoved the glass case off the nightstand and shattered it on the floor. Everyone in the room flinched, then froze, as the king stood rigidly in place, seething. 

“Chester. Find her,” he commanded. Chester bowed in acknowledgement and obeyed. “Everyone else. OUT!!” The servants scrambled to follow his order, practically tripping over each other as they closed the door behind them. Candy found herself alone with the king. Though he was no longer squeezing her, she still felt suffocated by the malevolent aura bleeding off of him in wrathful waves. 

“Candy,” he growled. She was too afraid to utter a sound. The king kneeled down and dropped her on the bearskin rug. Candy’s legs failed beneath her and she collapsed on her rear in the field of coarse brown fur, staring in horror up at the gigantic man towering over her like a mountain, even when he was in a crouch. 

“She can’t have gone far. Show me where she’s hiding,” he demanded. Candy cringed under the weight of his authoritative tone, trembling. However, she kept her lips stubbornly sealed. He leaned over her, overwhelming her with his domineering size. “Tell me.”  

When she still refused to speak, he bared his teeth in a vicious snarl. “So that’s how it’s going to be.” He pulled back, standing up to his full height. Candy felt smaller than ever as she stared up the unfathomable distance from the floor to his face, situated between his titanic boots. With a calculated and deliberate movement, one of his boots rose above her. He thudded his heel on the ground with a seismic crash and lowered the rest of his shoe over the small woman, savagely pinning her to the floor with his toe. Candy screamed, fully expecting to be stomped on, but he didn’t put his full weight into his stride—yet. 

His glare seared into Candy as she pushed against the thick sole helplessly. He pressed his mass down on her further, eliciting a shriek of pain and terror. “Stop!” she gasped. “Don’t step on me, please!” She began to cry, fully aware she could be snuffed out in an instant. 

“I ought to crush you,” Hardon snarled. “Lying to me like you did... deserves death.”  

Candy whined. “No...” she choked. 

“What should I do with you?” he contemplated, ignoring her pathetic sounds. He stroked his chin, scratching at the light stubble. He put down more weight on his foot, making Candy release a shrill scream, before he lightened the load. He bent down and dragged Candy out from his shoe, dangling her before his humongous face. 

“Hmm... should I chomp you into chunks?” He clicked his teeth together and licked his chops. “Disembowel you, and slurp up your intestines like spaghetti? Slice you up into deli meat with a butcher knife? Tear off these little toothpicks you call limbs, one by one?” He tugged on her arm playfully. “You would look gorgeous with a nice splatter of ruby red on that cute little face of yours.” 

He traced his fingertip across her cheek, down her neck and along her side to her hip. Candy shuddered, from the roots of her hair down to her toes. “Ah, but it would be such a shame to mutilate that perfectly petite body.” 

He looked down at the breakfast tray and a devious leer spread across his visage. “You must be hungry. Why don’t we have breakfast?” He sat down on the bed, set the tray in his lap, and plopped Candy carelessly into a bowl of chopped fruit. Candy let out small moans of fear as she hugged her arms to her sides, prepared for the worst. 

When nothing happened, she glanced up at the giant fearfully. “Go ahead. Eat,” he repeated. She didn’t move. The seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness as the tension drew out like a sword. His voice dropped to a warning growl. “EAT.” 

A chill ran down Candy’s spine. She grabbed a blueberry bigger than her head and bit into it to appease the king. He smirked. “There you go. Much better.” He crumbled up a biscuit for her and gave her some juice to drink. “Yes, eat well...” 

A sinister chuckle from him made Candy’s blood run cold, but she didn’t dare disobey him as she ate her fill in silence. At least he wasn’t maiming her in lethal, gruesome ways. She could tell he was incensed, so she didn’t understand why he was feeding her instead of inflicting pain, but she didn’t want to ask either. Her skin all over her body had already started to darken with bruises in a pattern that matched the bottom of his shoe. She hoped maybe he was willing to forgive her transgression without punishing her further. 

“Candy, I have a question for you,” Hardon purred. He dripped a drop of the anti-digestion potion on her head and ruffled her hair with his fingertip. Candy felt sick as she realized he was planning to ingest her. Although, as unpleasant as it was to be consumed whole, she was relieved that he didn’t intend to brutally slaughter or digest her. “Do you know how long this potion lasts?” He waited patiently for her response, raising an eyebrow. 

“Um... I’m not sure,” Candy mumbled. 

“Two days.” He held up two fingers, bigger than Candy’s entire being, for emphasis. “I know because I’ve eaten plenty of ladies like you and had them dissolve away in my gut.” Candy shivered as she imagined dying inside his stomach, the powerful digestive enzymes stripping away her skin and muscle. 

“Now, a second question. Do you know how long it takes for food to pass entirely through the digestive system?” Candy shook her head, clueless. “It depends on what you eat, but it can take as long as three days. Particularly for meat, fiber, or indigestible compounds.” 

Candy grimaced with disgust. “Why are you telling me this?” she murmured, finally daring to speak. She looked up again and blanched. The predatory leer cracking open his face from ear to ear sent alarm bells screaming through her head. She stumbled back, tripping over a slice of melon and falling into a dollop of whipped cream. The king gripped her by the leg, pulled her out, and dangled her upside-down, dangerously close his mouth. 

“I hope you enjoyed your breakfast,” he jeered, hatred dripping off every syllable. Candy fixated on his big square teeth, glinting at her from under his substantial lips, as a gust of humid, stale breath hit her face. “It might be your last meal.” 

“No!” Candy exclaimed, her voice cracking under the strain. Her throat was raw and hoarse from yelling so much. 

“I know I’m going to relish mine,” he continued. “I’ll devour you whole, but this time, I’m not letting you out. You’ll have to find your own way.” 

With a bloodthirsty grin, he raised her above his head and opened his mouth wide for maximum effect. Candy squawked and struggled as she stared down into the cavernous red maw below, glistening with saliva and lined with fearsome teeth. The meaty tongue undulated with impatience, eager to taste her. Candy yelped as he released her leg and she plummeted inside. She splatted on his tongue as the jaws snapped shut with the ravenous ferocity of a wolf. He slurped the cream off her body, squishing her into the arched roof of his mouth and humming in his throat.  

Candy slipped down his tongue like a slide into his gullet, and he gulped her down. She tried to block out the terrifying ordeal of being swallowed, with the slick throat crushing around her and forcing her down, by thinking about Millie, but the adrenaline coursing through her insides like wildfire drowned out any other thoughts. She was dumped unceremoniously into the stomach, a gurgling inferno that she feared would become her living tomb. 

At first, she splashed wildly in the acid, desperate for an escape that would not materialize. As her panic gradually gave way to despair, and she stared at the kneading walls that stirred the boiling liquid around her, the true horror of her predicament seeped into her core. 

This is the end. I’m going to die. 

Chapter 43

Tag List: @maybeiamdownbad @yummynomms @tinycoded360