#pred is a peaceful being

[teal-fiend]

a pred who is domesticated and soft and they've never had to fight for their meals.

with observers/ prey who talk mad shit because they can hide behind their pred. or they tell people that the pred will beat them up if they say so

but the pred is like, "no please i cant fight. all i do is eat people"

[exploding-car-hammer]

now that i've spammed and am for sure getting fucking banned, i will talk about Matt and why what he did is fucking disgusting and horrendous

many transgender individuals have had safe for work selfies and other pictures of themselves taken down or flagged on account of being nsfw. this is blatant transphobia due to multiple reasons

1. tagging something related to transgender individuals as nsfw when it is clearly sfw helps to perpetuate the bigoted myth that being transgender is a fetish or kink

2. by censoring our existence you are actively preventing us from even trying to defend ourselves from bigotry or attempting to correct stereotypes or harmful misinformation

recently the incidents have crossed the boundary even farther than usual with the banning of predstrogen. she had the thing described above happen to her because it had been mass reported by terfs and other transphobic individuals. after having the photo taken down she made a joke about wishing the ceo of tumblr @photomatt (im for some reason not allowed to tag him anymore) wash in a car crash involving explosions and hammers. he took this joke seriously and decided to do 2 things

1. ban her because he couldn't take a joke amd he couldn't handle having his transphobia called out

2. threatened to call the fbi on her because he couldn't take a joke and couldn't handle being called out

now i don't know if you know this but organizations like the fbi don't particularly have a great history with minorities. so calling them is basically equivalent to Matt walking up to her and shooting her in the face. if the fbi was called it wouldn't be a raid or a peaceful capture, it would be an execution.

and now we move on to what is currently happening. multiple users have been banned for joking about the situation or discussing it and he's attempting to hide evidence of his actions while also lying about what happened. his defensive statements only make him look worse because of his lies and other reasons such as referring to pred as "it" (according to her bio pred uses she/him). this is extreme transphobia and it needs to be pointed out, called out, and discussed. if these things happen we could hopefully see Matt pay for his actions (there's a legitimate legal case against him btw just pointing that out).

anyways im going to be posting this to my cohost and tranfem social accounts because im probably getting banned and i would like what i said here to be preserved.

don't be quiet.

your voice is important in this situation

[lesbianoms]

Hhhh ohh god fuck~ I’m in love with the concept of wlw long term melty digestion 🥵

Imagine two women who are seeing each other and the more dominant one coaxes her submissive partner into being eaten by her… she’s a bit reluctant, but does have to admit… it gives her a “funny feeling” to imagine, and she always wants to make her girlfriend happy… so she sheepishly agrees…

And after she gets swallowed, maybe she’s whining and protesting a bit… with little kicks to the inside of her gf’s big, swollen belly. The pred lets out a belch and rolls her eyes, giving her gut a teasing pat. Always a drama queen, this one. But the pred knows she’ll be fine, and so she stretches across the bed, ready to sleep off her big meal~

Throughout the night, the pred’s stomach gets louder and the prey’s muffled sounds get softer… quieter… subdued <3… she sounds almost peaceful as she gets churned by the belly of her beloved~

It doesn’t hurt, it’s just a bit of a strange experience. She moans from within the rotund belly and whimpers pitifully as her form is melting and bubbling away. And eventually, at some point in the early morning, the sounds stop all together 💕

The pred hums in her sleep and places a hand over her hard-working gut; it’s all soft and sloshy now. Her tummy lets out a long groan in response to being touched. The middle begins to sag, and there’s a big scchlrp… sssqquelch~ as what’s left of her sweet girlfriend collapses beneath those churning stomach walls. All sludge now~ ☠️🫧

In the morning the pred kneads and rubs a much smaller stomach, getting aroused by the feeling of her prey shifting around and slipping deeper into her guts for even more lengthy digestion <3

“See? I’m so happy you came around, darling~”

ggggrrr…rrRRGGL…….

Of course, when her beloved DOES come back, she’ll have to tease her and cuddle her and tell her what a wonderful evening snack she made… but for now she just enjoys her partner’s eventual dedication to making her all soft❤️🥰

[izznts]

Hans Kareem + Kyle Rivers & Izzy Oliana

Art from Toulensister (Thank you for the base idea!)

• Finally being able to post all 5 Pred Babes so that is amazing! Soon this year a full non-bellykink digital reference SHEETS will be released with other OCs I have behind the scenes.

I hope you all like the Pred Babes now that you all see them, they're all comical, respectful and extremely hungry all the time. I can finally be at peace and work on their backgrounds and proper stories (or if anyone has asks of them, please do send some)

[voraciousemo]

ACTOR PRED.

Imagine that, backstage, preparing for a scene with one of your bigger costars, you get scooped up, oh so gently into their warm palms, lifted to their face. Them mumbling a small apology, voice soft, but still loud enough to ring in your ears. They simply couldnt wait until being on stage, besides, you had an understudy for a reason.

Their warm breath fanned over you, yellow eyes focused in as they tilted their hand to their mouth, you carefully climbing in. Their tongue was soft, the humidity in the air obvious as you stretched out, the muscle under you cradling you, savoring your taste as they shut their mouth, a small purr coming from them as they tilted their head back, savoring your taste. Simply put, you wouldnt be stored. No, youd be held in their crop, right by their vocal cords. Theyre a dragon hybrid, getting used to tapking, vibrating your whole form.

When they got on stage, they launched into their lines, you quietly whispering yours along, when your understudy said them. The vibrations were calming...peaceful, even, and you started to drift off...

People would confuse you for an adam's apple, on that show night. And the pred relaxed, knowing you were safe.

[hooter-n-company]

Since I mentioned him here, might as well officially introduce this big fella. Also because @twistedtummies2 is a big fan. 😉

No one knows exactly where Bubba came from, but ancient legend goes that he is the living essence of the primordial swamp, laying dormant beneath the muck for who knows how long before he was discovered by the local tribes. The humans noticed a section of the ground beneath their feet shifting, rising and falling with the beast’s breath. Believing it to be some kind of slumbering god, they created ceremonies, myths, and cautionary tales warning to never disturb the deity from his slumber, or risk incurring his wrath. However, a corrupt shaman thought that he could control and exploit the powerful “god” for his own gain and proceeded to cross onto the sacred patch of land where he slept before digging him out. Unfortunately, the shaman didn’t have much time to enact his plan as he was immediately gobbled up by the creature, who promptly vanished into the murky depths.

Despite his elusive nature, the amphibious creature can still be seen roaming the swamp, devouring all in his path. The tribes still revere him as a godly figure, providing him with numerous offerings to appease him…and to keep him from turning his appetite back on them one day…

More info under the cut:

Name: Bubba

Pronouns: He/him

Age: Unknown

Species: Unknown amphibian/fish hybrid/possibly a god

Role: Pred

Height: 10 feet tall, 17 feet long

Abilities: Elastic tongue, super sticky saliva, tissue regeneration, can hibernate for centuries, breathes both air and water

Personality: A lazy, greedy, gluttonous, and incredibly territorial beast. He’s a complete loner who is perfectly content living by himself and views all other creatures are potentially edible, incredibly annoying, or both at the same time. However, he isn’t a sadistic creature who goes out of his way to hurt people. He just wants to be left alone with some peace and quiet, so if you keep your distance, he will happily do the same. When Bubba is alone in his element, he can be surprisingly relaxed, mellow, and laid back, even jovial at times when he’s engaged in his own personal interests. His appetite heavily dictates his mood, as he tends to get irritable and short tempered when his stomach is empty. He is driven by simple motivations (mostly filling his belly), but he can be a surprisingly cultured and curious creature with a fair amount of intelligence.

Likes: Food (especially jambalaya and gumbo), cooking, discovering tasty ingredients, collecting unique trinkets and useful items, sleeping, mud baths, hot n’ humid weather, learning about the outside world, scaring people for fun, living a minimalist lifestyle, being alone, smoking

Dislikes: Bland meals, severe boredom, trespassers, poachers, pollution, rival predators in his territory, people interrupting his naps, an empty stomach, annoyingly loud critters, cold snaps

Other Info:

-Has a THICK southern accent.

-Has taken up cooking as one of his main hobbies. Despite not being picky in the slightest, he has developed quite a refined palate. He really loves gumbo and jambalaya.

-He begrudgingly tolerates the local tribes who worship him, mostly because they provide him with food and useful materials at his request. Although he does get a kick out of scaring the bu-jeezus out of individuals who wander into his territory.

-When injured, Bubba can regenerate large chunks of damaged tissue, including entire organs and limbs if given enough time.

-Croaks like an enormous frog to warn nearby creatures to stay out of his territory. Can also puff himself up for defense and intimidating enemies

-His first stomach is like a “storage pouch” to hold extra food, but also has powerful muscles to churn meals and coat it with enzymes. These aren’t strong enough to cause serious acid damage, but they work in tandem with the juices of the second, primary stomach, making it easier to digest tough meat and hard materials like shells and bone.

[mawsnclaws]

In honor of school letting out, here's some Stanley Palatable predcanons for you. Expect more uploads for various fandoms soon <3

NARRATOR:

- He's the most stuck up pred you've ever met, but the most insistent on eating you.

- He refuses to eat you if you have shoes or a jacket on. He thinks they're "too dirty" and will refuse to even let you near his mouth.

- Adventure line tongue? Adventure line tongue! If you decide to follow the Adventure line, you may end up in a bit of a..situation.

- If you fall into something he may be eating or drinking, don't expect him to help you out. You're on your own now. Just hope you can avoid being eaten long enough to find a way out.

- Don't mention him eating you to anyone else because he'll just brush you off and get embarassed. "Oh dear where did you ever come up with a thing like that?" Before you're snatched up and shoved into his pocket.

- He uses the time he has you in his stomach to get things done. He's always making sure you're safe and not doing anything stupid- he rarely has time to work on the Parable or his writing. His best bet is just to swallow you down and take some time for himself.

- Biiig fan of fear/fearplay, even if you hate it. He's really bad at knowing just when to stop so he often does go overboard- but he tries his hardest to make up for it in any way he knows how afterwards.

- His stomach is either like the zen room or bright yellow! Depends on how he's feeling. It growls a lot- on purpose mostly. He thinks it "adds to the tone" when in reality it's just nice white noise.

STANLEY:

- Surprisingly worried pred, constantly prodding at his stomach to try and make sure that you're ok.

- Needs constant reassurance that you're fine and he tries to find different ways to talk to you since he can't speak.

- Mostly eats you to give you a break from The Narrator. He's gentle and quiet- something that The Narrator isn't. He genuinely enjoys being this close to you.

- Enjoys it when you rub the inside of his stomach!

- His stomach is a duller grey-ish pale yellow, it's not harsh on your eyes which is nice. His stomach doesn't growl as much and when it does it's pretty quiet.

- After he eats you, he tries to settle down in a place where he wouldn't move much. His chair, the break room, somewhere peaceful like that. He doesn't want to disturb the little bit of "alone time" that you get.

THE CURATOR:

(this one is mainly for me. happy pride month yall. I LOVE WOMEN.)

- She is a very no nonsense pred. She won't eat you without permission but she doesn't like it if you squirm or struggle.

- She mainly eats Mariella, but if you ask her politely enough and you catch her on a good day, she absolutely will eat you.

- Her stomach is a gentle blue-purple color and it's very quiet. Most of the time she'll gently hum while working, or make small conversation, but other than that it's silent.

- Sometimes she likes to gossip about The Narrator. Nothing harmful at all, just silly little quips about her "airhead" coworker.

- Sometimes she'll dangle you between her fingers (neatly manicured blue nails.. 😋) before she eats you. She's silly and indulgent sometimes.

MARIELLA:

(this is also mostly for me. I just. love women. a lot. 😭)

- THE YAPPER EVER. She will NOT shut up once she eats you. She sees this as an opportunity to talk and talk without any interruptions. She talks about everything. Hair, nails, the weather, her job- everything.

- Her stomach is pink! It's a muted pink but it's very nice. It growls a lot but not nearly as much as The Narrator's.

- Sometimes you'll just get picked up and eaten with no explanation and she'll start chatting away. It's mostly when she's bored and has nobody else to talk too.

- She's not one for fear but she does like to dangle and tease occasionally.

- Sometimes she won't even eat you, she'll just hold you in her mouth for awhile while she paints her nails or does makeup- or on the rare occasion that she actually gets stuff done, some paperwork.

- She'll fall asleep without explanation at times. One moment she'll be talking and the next she's fast asleep.

[methylphenidate-already-taken]

Hmmmm. Reversing a more typical situation for vore day? Small naga getting rescued from another animal or the elements by a lost pred hiker. Only if you want to!

Happy vore day everyone! Take my two assholes in a "meet cute"

CW: for cussing, near death experience, and implied s*x work (Prey participating in vore for survival or money)

Contains: Soft safe endo vore with size difference. Naga prey and ??? Pred.

She was going to freeze to death out here. She was freezing to death out here. Beatrice was already cold blooded, which made her tail that much more susceptible to freezing solid. It was out of the question now, leaving her tiny hands to claw into the snow and pull her forward in a desperate attempt to get her out of… she didn’t even know where she was. Her last consumer had reformed her here and left her to die. His smug cackle sill rang in her ears over the howling wind. Once the predator was bored of her pleas, he had left not bothering to witness the end.

Beatrice had given up on wiping her tears. Moving forward took precedence over being able to see. Her eyes now frozen shut. She knew it was foolish to chase non-existent safety, and that perhaps her final moments should be filled with prayer, or reflection, some peace making.

She was going to freeze to death out here, but she didn’t. She couldn’t see the shadow looming over her, or hear his footsteps in the snow. It was only when a large bony hand plucked the naga up did she know someone was there.

Now, warm breath washes over her, and Bee knows exactly how high off the ground she is.

“H-Hello?” She quivers out

“So, you are alive. I had thought those might have been the final muscle spasms” the voice speaks. There’s an unnatural resonance to it. 

“Yes-! I’m alive!” she cries, it sounds more like a whimper

“Do you feel me touching your tail?” He asks 

“No…“ 

“Then I won’t straighten it out, much too brittle,” another puff of warm air washes over her, “You’re not shivering…. Truly, on the brink” He sounds amused. 

“Please…” She begs. She can’t feel the tongue under her tail, or see the the smug smile on the lips she’s passing through, “Fuck, please, just Help me! I p-provide many services. They’re all yours just-” She can’t feel it, but she can hear the swallow that drags part of her tail into the stranger’s throat, and that cuts off her cries. “Thank you…!” No one swallows then chews, Beatrice knows she’s in the clear. More swallows and a stubborn gunt make her feel a twinge of anxiety. This guy might ask some big favors given the trouble, but that would be worth her life. Once his tongue meets her skin it feels like it’s burning, an inferno compared to the frost bite. Again, she cries out, but it leaves as a whimper. The warmth quickly melts the ice on her eyes, but she can barely see anything through the freshly flowing ears, just the familiar shape of a mouth, and teeth closing in front of her. Then it all goes dark and she can't tell when she actually passes out.

------

Beatrice wakes up still within a stomach, presumably the one she had last remembered being in. It’s hard to tell these days. It seems typical. Dark, slimy, warm… Beatrice wiggles her fingers.  

“Awake, are we?” The smooth voice she had heard before speaks from above, “that was quite the ordeal.” It takes a moment before she computes that he’s talking to her. 

“You felt that?” she says. 

“Yes, I feel your breathing, too” He replies. 

“Are you somewhere safe?” Beatrice asks. 

“Yes, but I’m not letting you out quite ye-” 

“Of course,�� She’s already started to press her hands into the flesh around her. This one must be quite big, It doesn't feel too snug. “You deserve a reward for saving me~”

“Do not…! Cut me off.” He snaps “and stop that!”

“Oh come on, if you’re that sensitive doesn’t it feel good?” This is how Beatrice survives, this is how she has always survived, and no doubt what will keep her afloat now. 

“No, you fool, I want you to rest!” 

“Oh,” The woman’s hands fall.

“You are exhausted. recover.” 

Is he serious??

“Not much choice, I guess.” 

“Not unless you chose to keep touching me like that, in which case it will have been a waste of time saving your life” 

Beatrice smirked, it was always funny when they tried to threaten her life with digestion… speaking of which. 

“Have you eaten? It’s empty in here, and further down sounds pretty hollow.” 

“No” He replies curtly 

"Will yo-"

“No” He replies, curtly 

Beatrice clears her throat, “... What’s your name?”

The lungs above her fill from a sharp inhale, and for a moment she thinks she’s not going to get an answer. 

“I don’t quite know yet,” Her gut says he’s telling her the truth, “What’s yours?”

“Bee,” Beatrice replies “It’s good to meet you, I Don’t Quite Know Yet.” 

“Very funny,” He says sarcastically, “I’m done talking, keep resting.”  

“What? Just like that?” She asks 

“Just like that” 

“I-” 

“Sush” 

She resigns, going limp within the belly of the stranger. It’s dark, slimy, warm… Comforting. No expectations, just for a little while. For once, this stupid, smothering, noisy organ was doing something for her instead. The heart above her wasn’t racing, or the lungs panting for air. No frantic movements or smothering hands. She didn’t trust it, not for a second. But nothing changed, and the worn naga drifted back into sleep.  

[makothegayyburrito]

Vore prompt: #3

The prey is relaxing and taking a nap in their preds tum, all is peaceful before the pred suddenly sneezes really loud and causes the prey to be woken up in a startled panic to the loud noise and vibration from the sneeze

The pred frantically apologizes for waking them up, even being able to feel them shaking within them from the pure shock of it all. They reassure the prey that their alright and softly talks to them as the prey falls back asleep, making sure that their all settled back into their nap

[stormtheskyelf2]

Fatal vore thoughts, tw/cw for @/bus3 and sh -- LONG POST/STORY!

"fatal vore is mean, fatal vore is cruel, fatal vore is gross" What about a guardian angel pred who disintegrates the prey painlessly and then reforms them later? It's assigned to abused and neglected children, who think they're no good being here. Whenever it sees their teen take a knife to their wrists, they come up behind them and ever so gently wrap them in their wings, taking the blade delicately. The teenager turns, a look of fear and shame on their face. They expect to be hit, yelled at, thrown. Instead they are held and comforted. The faceless guardian hugs them close and reassures them that it's not their fault.

They crumble in their embrace, absolutely bawling their eyes out like they've never before. I'm sorry, the child sobs. It's because of me, isn't it? I'm sorry. I just wanted to be normal...

It's not your fault, comes the silent answer.

It feels like it, though.

Their crying stops for a bit. The angel simply holds them.

Can you take me with you?

What?

You always leave to Heaven once you're done comforting me. Can you take me with you? I...

I don't want to be here anymore.

...

I can't do that, little one. Not until you're old and you've lived your life.

I don't want to live my life if it's with her.

A long, whispering sigh like wind comes from the angel.

Just close your eyes, dear.

The teenager does, trusting them with every inch of their broken, bruised heart.

They feel a soft brush of warmth on their face, and they peek open their eyes just a bit. This is followed by them entirely opening them and gasping a little, looking up at their now-giant protector, who had grown to about twice their size.

This gasp is cut off as the angel opens their jaws, golden-silver insides glittering and making the kid forget about the ichor-stained fangs that line the entrance. They don't touch the child the slightest as the deity kneels, lowering their maw around the mortal's face and neck. There's the slightest hesitation before the guardian's flesh twitches around them, wrapping them in an embrace of comforting darkness as a swallow echoes in their ears. G-gllkk-hmm...

They are coaxed downwards, then more as the angel devours their shoulders, then their torso and arms, and their waist and legs. The celestial being takes off their shoes before letting the last of the mortal slide down their throat, hidden away from the world besides a small, round lump on their gut. A low, pleased hum comes from around the teenager, who is now curled up among the plushy, shimmering surfaces and linings. A liquid swirls around them like mist, goopy yet airy at the same time. Will.. will it hurt? They hold up their hand, which is now coated in the substance. It was a funny feeling, seeing theirself slowly join the mist.

I promise you, nothing will hurt you as long as I can help it.

It feels.. nice. To be useful like this. That's a sad existence, said the angel. Do you simply live to please?

I.. I guess.

---

Sometime later, the deity curls up among the pillows and blankets on the child's bed. Their 'meal' has completely dissolved, swirling around within their gut like a soup. A spirit soup of sorts. But the child's soul has not disbanded, nor have they been absorbed.

The protector places their hands on their torso and allows themself to hold the mortal like this for a moment longer, before the walls close in and the deity's jaw opens, spilling a small, light blue curl of smoke into their claws.

They hold this to their chest, feeling it ripple and shift and change until they are once again holding a child. The tears that were streaking down the teenager's face have vanished, their form more relaxed than they ever let themselves be.

When the child wakes up, they will have no recollection of what happened, other then the feeling of comfort and peace that came with it. But the angel knows, and the angel is always willing to be a shoulder to cry on for them, or a stomach to hide in.

Sleep well, little one, they whisper as they bring the blankets over their shoulders.

[teal-fiend]

preds evolving as mediators within a social group

The ratio of prey to pred is about 20:1

If there is a group member who is acting needlessly aggressive, a preds insticts will be to swallow them, to de-escalate the situation.

The preds stomach is not made to immediately digest the prey. It will hold them safely for a little while at least.

But if the problematic individual doesnt calm down, and instead continues to struggle, the preds body will start to break the prey down.

Prey also will typically feel relaxed, at least after the initial shock of being placed in a stomach. The relaxed feeling generally helps in them not getting digested.

If the predator notices that the prey is calm, they will let them back out. If they keep a relaxed prey inside for too long, theyll get a bellyache, as their system will refuse to digest it.

Predators are important in maintaining peace within a community

[sinfromlokislair]

a new test subject

so how many of you enjoy d/ead c/ells? probably not many based on the amount of fics under its tag. anyways, ive been in that fandom for months and never wrote anything for it despite the massive amount of pred potential it has. here's a fic featuring one of my favorites, the collector. written in second person because i was being self indulgent and refuse to apologize.

enjoy meeting the only friendly npc on the island and fumbling your interactions with him so badly he eats you.

word count: 6370 warnings: fatal vore, pov fic, mentions of drugs, questionable morals from a strange bipedal amphibian, minor spice.

When the island finally came into view, you’d already been drifting for a day. After the destruction of the travel liner you’d been on, you’d been trapped on a lifeboat as the only survivor of the tragedy. One moment it had been a peaceful night on your journey to your new life, and the next, some kind of lightning strike had come down on the vessel, cleaving it in half. You had no idea what could have done such a thing, but the thought that it was out there, potentially swimming in the water or lurking in the sky, had sent chills down your spine. 

There had been only one surviving lifeboat. Whatever had attacked had been intelligent enough to strike at an angle that destroyed most of them. As you’d paddled to it, your wet clothing threatening to drag you to the bottom of the sea, you’d heard the screams of your fellow passengers and smelled the blood in the water as the sea churned with crimson foam. Whatever was in the water was equally as deadly as what had attacked you. It had pursued you to the boat as you climbed aboard, leaving you with a nip on your leg before abandoning its attack.

You’d hugged your knees to your chest and tried to block out the screams, praying that someone else would survive and climb on. They never did. And when morning came with its warding light, you’d been met with a sea that was bright red, and not from the morning light. 

As the day had gone on you’d drifted aimlessly, too afraid to use the paddles in the boat to send yourself anywhere. What good would it do? You couldn’t see land anywhere. Those survival manuals had always said to stay in the same place and await rescue. You had doubted that rescue would come deep down, but it was all that stood between you and a painful death of dehydration, so clinging to hope like it was a rope, you’d held on and prayed that things wouldn’t end like this. 

The day had been hot and disappointing. A jagged lighthouse had caught your eye, but when you paddled towards it, you’d seen the jagged nest of broken ships around it and decided that perhaps approaching such a deadly structure wasn’t the best idea. Instead you’d rationalized that the sight of a lighthouse must imply the presence of civilization nearby, and worked through your rations as you spent your energy paddling in whatever direction you thought you saw a mass on the horizon.

Your efforts paid off. The sight of the island was joyfully ominous as you floated towards it, the vision of an odd castle topping it off like horns on a devil. It was dark, as if cast in shadows by nature itself. Birds flew away from the mass as you approached, several passing overhead as they headed out to sea. You thought you saw what looked like cancerous growths on one, growths that glowed like the sun. You tried to ignore it, even as the wretched smell began to wash over you.

The beach you pulled yourself in on had gray sand. It felt like a slurry beneath your feet as if made of both mud and sand. You dragged your boat in and pulled the bag of remaining rations over your shoulder, turning to scan the beach sprawled before you. 

It ran on for miles both ways. Just before you was a sheer face of rock, serving as a functional wall to keep you from exploring deeper. Sighing to yourself, you took the paddle from the raft, deciding that if you were to be trapped on a foreign island, you were going to have some form of weapon on you. 

It soon proved to be a wise choice on your behalf. As you headed down the beach, searching for the end of the rock face, you spotted what seemed like a green skull poking out of the sand. You nudged it with the tip of your paddle and found that, in fact, it was a fully fleshed head—or rather, a rotting fleshed head. The glowing eyes looked back at you with a vacant expression, making your heart leap in your chest. You quickly batted it away and quickened your pace. 

The skulls only grew in number as you progressed, however. And soon they were joined by arms, legs, torsos, full bodies. Each had glowing growths somewhere on their form. You felt a shiver travel down your spine and you walked past them; it felt as if they were watching you. They were diseased, it seemed, and this beach was some kind of dumping ground. It made you wonder what the residents of this island were like–the bodies they dumped seemed human, so they must be human as well. But were they the kind that ate other humans? Or sacrificed them to blood gods? Or killed without mercy? You prayed not. 

The rock face suddenly broke, revealing what seemed to be a cave mouth. You paused before it, looking into the blackness. A few more bodies were lurking within, clawing at the walls. Their green glow was the only light visible. 

Your instincts screamed at you to stay away from the opening. Swallowing hard, you gave it a wide berth, moving close to the sea as you attempted to go around it. The water splashed lightly against your bare feet, virtually matching the cold temperature they had fallen to. 

And something moved in the water. You heard what sounded like a form rising from the waves, water cascading off of its body. The movement drew your eyes instantly, revealing a glowing blue body with veiny tentacles. It was covered in white spikes beneath which flesh pulsed and a single eye opened, locking onto your form. 

A hiss arose from the monster's throat as its tentacles suddenly burst forth, lunging at you. A scream escaped your mouth, but your legs felt like gelatin, betraying you when you needed them most. The monster hissed eagerly, its jaw cracking as it opened. 

The sight of the jagged teeth finally kickstarted your brain into panic mode. You jerked back, almost tripping over yourself as a dagger-like tentacle stabbed where you’d just been standing. Screaming again, you turned tail and fled, beelining for the cave. At the mouth you hesitated, your heart hammering in your chest as you glanced over your shoulder. 

The thing was on the sand, raised on six tentacles, each complete with a single claw. It was rapidly approaching, crawling after you like an enormous spider. The wretched smell of rotten shrimp shot over you, mixing with the brine of the sea and the decay of the bodies around you. It instantly brought bile to your throat. 

You didn’t have time to vomit. Stumbling forward, fluid leaking from between your lips and gagging your throat, you flail into the cave, quickly leaving behind the gray light of the outside. The ground very quickly turned from slushy sand to hard rock, some of which cut into your heels. The sound of claws on stone eliminated the sensation of that pain. Your legs broke into a run, your chest burning, your mind praying that you wouldn’t hit a wall and end everything there. 

In a sense, your prayer was answered. It wasn’t a wall that you hit. 

The slope came up too rapidly. You couldn’t have seen it even with a lantern. The ground gave way instantly, catching your foot and dropping you to the floor. Your scream died in your throat as your chest slammed against slanted stone, stone which your body shot down like a rocket. It was cold, wet, and slimier than the mud above. And worst of all, it was pitch black. Your heart fired a mile a minute, your brain panicking and your survival instincts screaming. You were going to die. You were going to die.

You did not die. A light suddenly appeared ahead, something so sudden that you had no time to react to it before you were launched out of the tunnel you’d fallen into, flying onto a metal grate several feet from the pipe you’d come from. The wind was knocked out of you as you skidded, cutting open your arms and skinning your knees. You groaned as you finally came to a stop spread-eagle over some kind of viscous green goo. It reeked of rot. 

Your heart was still pounding a mile a minute. You swallowed, trying to remove the taste of bitter bile from your mouth, and raised yourself up on your palms, wincing as they stung from their cuts. Red blood was leaking down your arms, dripping to the substance below and sizzling as it made contact. That couldn’t be good. 

Slowly, you looked around, trying to make sense of your surroundings. Where were you? Some kind of sewer? You’d arrived in what seemed like some kind of pipe room, luckily landing on some kind of platform. It was lit by sconces on the wall, orange flames burning as if they’d only been recently lit. At the edge of the platform was what looked like an alchemist’s workbench–there were vials of all kinds, flasks of all shapes, and liquids of every color you could imagine. Your brows furrowed as you approached it, looking over the various tools left on the wood. Someone had been here recently; there wasn’t a speck of dust on the table. But who would be down here? 

The sound of a door opening suddenly echoed through the room. You froze, panic surging through your veins as you thought back to the monster from before–had it learned how to open doors? Where was there a door in here? Wait, what if it had followed you down the pipe? Your gaze shot towards the sound, which had come from beyond where you’d landed. 

There was a humanoid figure there. Your heart pounded as it turned towards you, two blue, glowing eyes locking onto your form. Your hands balled into fists, wishing for that paddle you’d dropped as you backed away from the figure. 

A surprised hum sounded from it. “Well well well, what have we here?” The voice that sounded was dry and low, almost devious sounding, and masculine. As the figure approached you made out blue skin, bird-like feet, a dark cloak and hood and a massive syringe tied to the figure’s back. Another monster. 

“Stay-stay away from me,” you warned, hunching your shoulders and trying to appear intimidating. It was hard considering the figure was a full four feet taller than you, if not more. “Stay back! I’m-I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” He asked, chuckling. “You’ll run deeper into the sewers? You must be new. Ah, pardon my rudeness, then.” He stopped at the grate where you’d been laying, raising a single clawed hand. “I’m the Collector, and I’m the closest thing you’ll get to a friend around here. Now, who are you?”

You pause. He’s talking, so at least he’s sentient. And he didn’t seem to be hostile. That was a plus. But could you really trust him?

“You look like you lost a fight,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Want to try a concoction of mine?”

He reaches into his coat and produces a glowing flask, swirling it for effect. “Free for first time testers.” 

The liquid did look appealing. And you had just lost a fight. But you weren’t stupid. 

“What…what will it do?” You ask. “Wait, who are…where am I? Where is this place? Who are you? What is…” You pause, gesture to everything. “I just–I just washed up here, I don’t even…ugh!”

His eyes suddenly widened. “You washed up here? You come from beyond the island?” And he’s on you in an instant, his hands grabbing your waist and lifting you like you weigh nothing. 

“Hey!” You yell, kicking and shoving at his grip. “Put me down!” 

“Absolutely not,” he answers, tossing you over his shoulder. “You’re far too valuable to feed my experimental concoctions to. Come, we’re going somewhere safe. It will go faster if you don’t struggle.” 

You growl, shoving at his hand. “I don’t even know who you are!” 

“I’m the Collector. And I’m the best thing you’ll get down here. Now hold still so I don’t need to incapacitate you.” His grip tightens, and you begrudgingly settle down, grumbling to yourself. “There, was that so hard?”

You’d punch his hooded head if you weren’t scared he’d break you like a twig if you did so. 

—------

The blue liquid sloshes ominously as he shoves the glass towards you. “Drink it.” 

You grimace, looking between the slime and his obscured face. There was no way to read his eyes, their glowing gaze locked onto you like you were an indignant child. “Do I…really have to? It looks…what’s it even made of?” You take the glass and swirl it a bit, observing how the fluid sticks to the edges. 

“You don’t want to know that,” he says, leaning forward on one arm. “But it’s good for you. If there’s any Malaise in your system, it’ll flush it out. I can’t have you becoming infected. You’re too valuable for that.” 

You give him a look, your frown deepening. “You still haven’t told me what ‘Malaise’ is. Or what this place is, frankly.”

He’d carried you through the whole sewers, narrowly avoiding undead monsters and barely managing to outrun the hordes of glowing rats that crept from the pipes. Once you’d escaped the sewers and spilled out onto the outskirts of a town, he’d taken you towards what seemed to be an old shack, only for that ‘shack’ to be a front for a secret underground lab. He had dozens of these all over the island, he’d explained, and they were safe havens for him as he traversed it. Here, you’d be safe and cared for, provided you cooperated. 

It smelled better than the rest of the island, which now had the rot of fish in the air, so you’d initially agreed. Anywhere sheltered and monster free would do for you now. But here, locked underground with a nine foot lizard bird man, you were starting to realize just how much you’d fucked up. For one, he wanted you to drink what could be poison. For another, he seemed to be some kind of scientist type, and not the kind who still held onto morals. And of course there was the problem that he seemed rather fascinated with you. 

All of this reeked of bad vibes to you. But what else were you supposed to have done? Died to that weird monster? You bring the cup to your nose and give it a sniff. It’s rather foul. You gag and put it down. 

“Seriously. How can you expect me to be okay with…any, of this right now. Where even am I?”

He sighs and raises himself off the table, turning to rifle through one of his bags. “You’re on The Island. That’s all we call it nowadays. You were likely struck down by The Queen, and now you’re trapped here with the rest of us.” He retrieves a map and slaps it down in front of you. “The Island is plagued with a deadly sickness called The Malaise. If you catch it, you will die. Everything here already has. There is no cure. Now. Drink that. If you’ve caught a whiff of the stuff, it’ll keep it from progressing.” 

You wince, staring at the map before looking back to the substance. “The Malaise…? How is something without a cure going to be stopped by this…uh…stuff?”

“It’s my personal brew,” he grumbles, growing annoyed. “I drink it every day to keep myself from succumbing. In fact you’re taking part of my portion, which is a generous act on my behalf. Avoid squandering my gift and consume it like a proper guest. Or do you want to be tied to a table and forced to consume it?”

You give him a glare, but what he sends back is enough to put you in your place. Best not to anger the giant bird lizard man. Slowly, you bring the cup to your lips, and pinching your nose, try to chug it down in one gulp. It doesn’t work, and you gag before coughing some back into the cup. He rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t attempt to drink it all at once. It’s too thick for that. Deep swallows, now.” 

Your eyes water as the wretched taste rolls over your tongue. It’s like rotten fruit combined with dirt and powdered aspirin. If you had anything in your stomach it’d probably be on the floor by now, but that was back in the cave, and you were not eager to repeat that encounter. You follow his instructions, giving deep swallows and taking it one mouthful at a time. Eventually it settles in your stomach, heavy as lead and strangely warm. 

You slam the cup down and groan. “Gross. That was disgusting. What did you–” You stop, remembering he already told you not to ask. The Collector huffs at you and shakes his head. 

“First timers. Always complaining about the flavor. I’m an alchemist, not a chef. I just make the potion, I don’t add sugar to it.” He continues shaking his head, retrieving a bottle of the same stuff and promptly chugging it. You watch in both amazement and disgust. His motions are so smooth and practiced, it’s as if the fluid had no flavor at all. 

He wipes his lips and returns the bottle to his belt, gaze falling back to you. “Now,” he says, placing his hands on the table you’re sitting at, “we can begin testing. I’ll need blood samples, tissue, urine, and hair. We’ll give it about fifteen minutes before the blood. How do you fare with needles?”

Your brows rise in shock. “Hey! I didn’t agree to be a test subject! What are you even–did you poison me?!” You rise to your feet, gaze jerking back to the exit. 

“Don’t,” he growls, moving to your side in an instant. “You won’t last a minute out there. And no, I didn’t poison you. If I wanted you dead, you’d already be in the ground.” He temples his fingers, grinning. “No, I want you for testing. You don’t realize how valuable you are, do you?” He advances slowly, forcing you back. “Think of this: every inhabitant on this island is dead. I have treated thousands for Malaise, thousands just like you, and not a single one survived. Had I the concoctions I have now, then, perhaps I might have changed those numbers. And with you, a fresh subject, I might be able to derive a cure.” 

Your eyes widen in horror, your heart pounding. This guy was no better than the monsters you’d seen roaming outside–no, he was worse. They just wanted you dead because, well, they’re monsters! But The Collector wouldn’t dream of killing you–no, that’d be a waste of the valuable data you’d provide. 

Data. Numbers on a clipboard. Statistics on a graph. You feel the substance within you threatening to come back up. 

“No way!” You scream, scrambling over the table. “I’m not your personal test subject! I-I’m a living breathing person!” 

He grins, eyes narrowing dangerously. “So were all they. By the end I was cleaving open their bellies while they still breathed searching for answers. Let us not repeat that, yes? If you cooperate, I will give you a home, a safe haven, and enough resources to maintain your life. All I want is your body.” 

You shake your head wildly. “Hell no!” As you back away you hit a shelf, vials clinking as you touch them. His grin fades at that, his eyes frowning. 

“Avoid breaking those,” he commands, advancing around the table. “You aren’t even capable of understanding what they could do.” 

You narrow your eyes, a snarl twisting your lips as you grab the nearest bottle. “Oh, this?” And without thinking you slam it onto the stone floor, glaring indignantly as it shatters. “Woops!” 

He stops, eyes turning to slits. “Don’t you dare–”

Before he can even finish his sentence you’ve grabbed another, throwing it to the floor. The glowing fluid within spills out into a puddle, mixing with the prior concoction. It begins to bubble, the color changing as some kind of reaction begins. His eyes widen. 

“Wait, stop, you don’t know what you’re making!” 

But his words fall on deaf ears, for you’ve already grabbed another and thrown it to the ground. He lunges, catching your hand as you reach for another and pulling you back. You scream and kick, jerking against him and squirming wildly as you’re tossed around. For an ‘alchemist’, he’s damnably strong, aided partially by the fact he’s got four feet on you. 

He looks like he’s about to say something, but the words never escape his lips. The fluids on the floor suddenly bubble wildly, mixing together to form a gas cloud that rolls over the entire room. You hold your breath, your eyes slamming shut, but it isn’t enough–it lingers in the air, aided by the fact that there’s little circulation in here. The gas floods your lungs, overpowering your body and filling you with its essence. 

Has it…always been so warm in here…? Has it always been so…comfy…? You feel your body relaxing, your heart slowing and your muscles losing their tension. You feel the Collector relaxing against you as well, his grip loosening, a low purr rising in his throat. 

“Damn…” he murmurs, his tone teasing, “just what…have you done?” A tiny chuckle escapes him, causing his chest to shake against you. “You’ve gone and ruined…ruined it…haha…” He releases you, throwing his head back and laughing. “So silly of you! So silly!” 

You stumble forward, finding yourself laughing as well. So silly! Look at you, you silly little troublemaker. Messing everything up! You snort, grabbing the table, seeing the empty glass. A grin forms on your face and you take it, holding it up like a prize. 

“Look!” You say, presenting it to him. “Look what I’ve got!” And you throw it to the ground, shattering it. “Woopsies!” 

He snorts with laughter, almost doubling over. “You’ve ruined it! You’ve ruined it! Ha…ha…” His eyes lock onto you, and his grin widens. “Ruined all of it…mmm…maybe I should ruin you…” 

You feel heat blooming in your chest as he speaks, your smile turning coy. “Oh? Ruin me?” You raise your hands to your chest, feeling yourself up ever so slightly. “Gonna put me on the floor? Break me apart?” You feign falling, then actually slip and fall on your ass. A laugh escapes you, and then you can’t stop. It’s just so funny! 

He joins you in laughing, tugging his cloak off as he kneels over you. “All of it, all of it…hehehe…” 

His much bigger form easily encompasses yours as he straddles your body, stopping only when your face is level with his chest. Without the cloak, you can take in his full form–god, he’s good looking. Blue skin, full pecs, a lighter blue belly, all of it on display for you. He chuckles again, tilting his head. “Silly…you silly little ruin…all of it, all of you…hehe…I’ll take all of you~” 

You laugh, reaching up to grab one of his pecs and squeezing. “Take all of me!” You giggle, grabbing them both. “Take all of me!” 

Another chuckle escapes him as he grabs your shoulders, sitting back on his heels and pulling you up with him. His blue smile, glowing from somewhere inside his dark hood, grows wider, luminescent drool dripping from it as he opens his mouth. You blink a few times, tilting your head slightly. 

“Wha…?” You ask, but are swiftly silenced by the presence of a glowing tongue pressing against your face. It’s the same bright blue color as the rest of his mouth, and leaves behind a thin trail of saliva as he tastes your nose, your cheek, your eye socket and finally your forehead. Content with his sample, he swipes his tongue up your head and pulls it back in, a low rumbling sounding as he gulps down your flavor. 

“So good…” he mutters. “All of you, so good.” 

His grip on your shoulders suddenly turns painful as he squeezes you in place, his glowing maw opening to its full extent. If you didn’t have a concoction of happy chemicals fogging your mind you might have screamed. But instead you just giggle. His mouth is pretty. You get a close look as he descends upon you–glowing blue tongue, opalescent saliva, white teeth that are scarily sharp looking. His tongue, more akin to a tentacle than the muscle you’d come to know it as, extends as his teeth graze the top of your head. 

You get one final laugh out, though if it's from nerves or your brain firing a mile a minute and being bottlenecked by the chemicals, you aren’t sure. All you know is that his jaws clamp down on you, his teeth digging slightly into your scalp and chin as he pulls you into his mouth. The tongue leaps onto your face, squishing against your cheek and rubbing up and down as he tastes you more. Saliva pools around you, wetting your head and dripping out from between his jaws to soak your neck and shirt. 

A moan of some sort emanates from his throat as he drinks up your flavor. You smile and close your eyes, listening to the sounds of his mouth working around you. A loud swallow pulls you forward, your face moving from resting comfortably in the middle of his maw to squishing against the flesh of his throat. Your eyes open to slits, trying to see just what awaits you, and are promptly forced to close again by another swallow. It drags you forward, the pressure on your head increasing exponentially in the process. 

The muscles of his throat squeeze you tightly as they fight to pull you downwards. It becomes quickly apparent that his body isn’t used to dealing with prey as large as yourself–no sooner has your head entered his gullet than he gags slightly, the muscles smothering you momentarily as he seems to ponder spitting you back out, his grip on your shoulders loosening. But a sudden growl from below echoes throughout his body, and that seems to settle it. 

His hands move to your arms and his teeth move down your neck, heading for your shoulders. You relax in his grip, the warmth of his body deceptively comforting as it works to engulf you. You feel his tongue slither out across your chest, coating it in a thin layer of saliva as he works on your shoulders, which are slowly, slowly passing between his lips and moving towards his throat. 

As he swallows again, sending them into his gullet and traveling down your chest, you become aware of another sound nearby–the thunderous beat of his heart. It’s going a mile a minute it seems, much faster than would be healthy for any human. You giggle a bit at the prospect, wondering if you’re exciting him. Deciding to tease him a bit, you manage to just barely bend your elbow, which is only now beginning to pass into his mouth, and try to tickle his face in some way. You feel his tongue move to pay attention to your hand, slithering between your fingers and leaving behind a thick residue of spit before curling around it and welcoming it in. If only you could giggle without the muscles immediately gagging you. 

He gulps again and those muscles suddenly squeeze hard–too hard. Your eyes squeeze shut with pain as the pressure on your head increases tenfold, threatening to crush your skull like an egg before they suddenly part. A tight ring forms around the crown of your skull and moves down your head, which momentarily hangs free in empty space. 

That is, until another swallow sends more of you in and squishes your face against something soft. You manage to open one eye and see a glowing wall of flesh speckled with dark spots. It seems to mold to your shape as you slide in, aided by both his constant gulps and the size of your own body. 

Speaking of your body, its entire upper half is now engulfed in his own. You kick your legs a bit, feeling them flail in the air as he works on your waist. A low grunt escapes from him as you move, causing him to shake and bend over ever so slightly. His hands move from your waist to your legs, holding them in place as his body suddenly shifts. The esophageal tube that had previously felt so tight suddenly loosens ever so slightly as he tilts his head back, letting gravity aid in sending the rest of your body down his gullet. Your arms pop free into his stomach just in time for you to brace yourself as several powerful swallows send you in up to your knees. 

It’s quickly becoming cramped in here. You’re not even all the way in, but you’re already being forced to curl, the walls closing in on your form as it stretches them. The heat is starting to get to you as well: what had previously been like a comfortable sauna is quickly becoming a smothering boil. The walls, glowing gently before, are now beginning to luminesce brightly enough to force your eyes shut again. As he slurps down your calves, tongue wrapping around one of them in a spiral, you hear a loud gurrrrrgle sound around you, accompanied by a sudden rush of hot fluid oozing from the walls. It washes over you, viscous and sticky, and quickly begins to burn–but before you can do anything to wipe it away, your legs slide down his throat and join you in his cramped gut, forcing you to adjust your position. 

The walls shift and stretch with your movements as you’re turned over, upside down, and splatted against them. Outside, the Collector moans as he runs his hands over his distended gut, kneading you into a favorable position for his digestive system to begin its work on you. The work of his stomach muscles along with the aid from his hands quickly subdues any struggles you might have had, squishing you into the fetal position and closing any gaps you might have taken advantage of. 

You’re trapped in position, the burning fluid on your body having spread out during the process of being squished around. You squint at the wrinkled walls around you, the dark spots on them almost hypnotic as they begin to shift, oozing more of that same painful fluid. It runs down your legs and arms, spilling onto your chest and threatening to pool at the pit of his stomach. The burning is no worse than a too hot bath, but you know it’ll soon worsen. Even with the haze of the drugs still clouding your system, you know what happens to things in stomachs. 

This was a stomach, right? You didn’t expect it to be so pretty. The glowing walls around you ripple with muscular movements, always trying to push you lower. They knead you studiously in a way that almost resembles a massage, if a massage was done with oil that burned you. You exhale, letting the heat of the gut around you begin to sink into your bones. It’s so hot in here. Your chest rises and falls slowly with each breath, but your heart is racing, just like the one not so far above you. 

Despite your circumstances you find it in you to laugh a bit. Pretty. Pretty like the stars. 

You rest your head back, sinking into the nearest wall. “Pretty…” you murmur, a loud gurgle drowning out your voice. “So pretty…”

Outside, the Collector tries and fails to stand, falling back on his ass and promptly flopping to the floor. His gut, stuffed with your form, bounces forward before settling on his abdomen, your visible shape clearly straining its glowing skin. He takes a few deep breaths, chuckling quietly and running his hands over his stretched skin. To think, he fit a human in there after all these years. It would appear he still had it in him. And they’d tasted so good. He’d forgotten what human tasted like, what with the Malaise eliminating most of them. 

The human shifted slightly in his gut. He watched the bulge of their arm and shoulder form, then slide back into conformity as his stomach squished against them with a groan. Every movement they made, he could observe, and every submission forced upon them, he could gloat in. Inside of him, they were nothing but a meal, and soon they would be melted down into a proper soup and pumped into his guts. The thought excited him, for some reason–usually he held no concern for the processes that occurred in his body, but this…this was something to indulge in. 

Perhaps it was the gas, still lingering heavily in the air. Perhaps it was the thrill of a meal after such a long time without one. Whatever the case, he wasn’t about to pass on this opportunity. 

He pulled himself up against the nearest wall, using both arms to accommodate for the extra weight now hanging from his midsection. Then he moved his hands back to his stomach and closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of tracing his fingers over your still solid form. His gut was so warm, and the softness of his skin let his fingers glide over your form with ease. Each stroke brought on a new sensation of pleasure, which only seemed to accelerate the digestive process. His stomach grew louder, the gurgles and groans it had been occasionally muttering before quickly growing into a cacophony. 

“Mmmmm…” he purred, pressing into his gut with his palms and kneading circles at the base of it. “So…good…”

Inside, the liquid had grown into a much larger pool. It was up to your waist, the burning growing to a painful searing. You’d been quiet, trying to endure the pain, the fog of your mind clearing with the stark realization that you were being digested. In the glow of the stomach walls you could see your flesh beginning to flake off, blood pouring from fresh wound to join the opalescent acids eating away at you. Your breaths quickened, your head spinning from the pain, the heat, and the lack of air. And then his voice sound around you, breaking through what had become an orchestra of gurgles, groans, and ominous rumbling from below. 

The words found their way out of you before you even knew what they were. 

“Hurts. Please. Stop. Please.” You look up, as if he can hear you. “Please let me out. It’s burning. Please!” 

He glances down at his stomach, narrowing his eyes deviously at the quiet pleas coming from within. The Collector’s tongue peeked between his lips, licking your flavor off them and leaving behind a cruel grin in their wake. 

“Mmmm…don’t think so,” he teased, poking where your head was. “Too good…too good, to let you…” 

Didn’t he want this human for something? He couldn’t recall. They just felt too good in there. He stretched his legs slightly and pressed down on his gut, back arching at the sudden squirming that erupted as a result. A scream sounded when he pressed again, which made him laugh. Good little human. 

“I thought you wanted me alive!” You scream, the walls suddenly forcing you below the pool. The drugs have left you now, and you’re in full panic. “STOP! You need me alive! I’m not food! I-I’m a human being!”

The walls around you squeeze tighter, which causes the fluid level to rise again. You cry out in pain as the acids singe your neck. 

“PLEASE! COLLECTOR!” 

The gut around you rumbles, the walls shaking for a moment before they suddenly collapse in on you all at once, smothering your head beneath the acids. Distantly, a loud belch sounds. You squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath, praying the pressure lets up before you start to drown. 

The Collector belches loudly as his prey pleads, thumping his chest twice to force any extra air out of his gut. It erupts into a flurry of sudden struggles, something that might have helped it when it was still outside of him. Oh well. Now all that does is send small jolts of pleasure through him, warming his nethers and making his chest heave a bit faster. 

He burps again, this one much smaller than the other. His prey’s final struggles seem to be beginning, evidenced by how they’re rapidly weakening. The blows that previously stretched his skin now barely cause a dent. He exhales sleepily as he watches an elbow jab poke out, followed by a kick from the other side. Neither cause any form of discomfort to him. 

“Enjoy my digestive system,” he purrs, patting his gut. “I’m sure we’ll have…so much to learn about each other…” 

A yawn stretches his maw and sends a few strands of spittle flying. He blinks sleepily, resting a hand atop your form. “Mmm…warm in here…mind if I nap, a little?” 

He doesn’t get any form of response from you. 

“Good…to know…” he rumbles, slumping against the wall. “So…good…” 

In a few hours, he’ll wake to someone slamming a fist on the door. When he rises, it’ll be with a softened, sloshy gut hanging from his midsection, working on pumping the nutritious slush that had once been a human deeper into his body. By the time the sun sets he’ll find himself with a fresh layer of pudge on his pecs and belly. The last of you is gone before the time loop even resets. After the next four, he completely forgets you even existed, your presence on his belly soon disappearing as his body metabolizes the rest of you for sustenance during his travels.

At least you escaped the Malaise, in one way or another.  

[lesbianoms]

I honestly love the idea of a prey whimpering and begging for their life suddenly getting incredibly aroused and blissful once digestion actually starts. It's like being comforted in the most intimate way after experiencing such a dramatic emotional shift. One moment they feel like their entire world is ending, and then the next they're being cradled tight and held so close in such a warm and oddly comforting way. Getting digested is almost therapeutic for them.

The pred pats and rubs their belly, relishing in their prey's muffled moans, which they can feel throughout their entire body. It seems like their meal has finally settled down. And for the prey, it feels sooooo so good in there... they might be trapped inside of a stomach, but everything is just so warm now... and gooey...

And it almost feels loving in an odd, animalistic way. With the acids relaxing their tension, allowing them to let their guard down, the prey accepts their fate and gives themselves over to pleasure and peace, as they slowly gurgle into a shapeless lump within the pred's big belly. One of the last things they hear before resigning themselves to eternal bliss is the loud, satisfied belch of their pred. They wouldn't have it any other way now, honestly <3

[loveandvore]

Prey who has a horrible habit of getting munched. Maybe they just have awful luck. Maybe they’re a bit on the meek side and it makes them seem like an easy target. Maybe they’re cocky and court danger a bit more closely than they should. Regardless, they’re winding up in someone’s stomach on a daily basis.

Luckily, they have a pred friend who’s always there to fish them out of whatever guts they’ve landed themself in. And maybe that’s part of why they’re always getting eaten- they know they’ve got someone who will rescue them, so they don’t have to be too worried…

Until one day their pred friend just wants some peace and quiet, and decides they’re tired of always being at the beckon call of their high maintenance prey friend, and just… ignores their texts and calls. Maybe they’ll regret it later, but for now they just want to catch some zzz’s and have some time to themselves…

This is a kink post minors DNI

[askbombasticblake]

we know what you did.

Funny, because I also know what you did, Shiloh.

I know that you kept your college roommate's secret, instead of telling campus police that Tianwei was a p3d0ph1l3, because she told you some sob story about her parents being abusive & nearly dying in a housefire.

I know that you were perfectly fine taking part in a harassment campaign against me and my ex-wife on behalf of Lily, and only apologized to me when I started getting clout.

Speaking of Lily, I know that you're not the "strong, angry abuse advocate" you claim to be because you gave NEGATIVE amounts of pushback to being her mistress, and only broke away from her when the money ran dry.

I know that the only time you believe victims over predators is when they have something to offer you that the predator doesn't, which is why your current simultaneous hate campaign against NF & Dormiyu (both victims) and support campaign for Poppy (an unapologetic predator) rings so fucking hollow.

You talk about understanding behavioral patterns so goddamn well, well I can see your pattern clear as day. So I wonder, how long will it be before your pattern of "bleed a pred dry, then backstab them when it's convenient" will last this time, hmm? What will be the breaking point for you to stop supporting Poppy?

Will it be her requesting an incest ERP? Will it be her hitting on your "daughter" Ruby? Or will it come down to her no longer accepting your emotional and financial mooching?

It's gonna happen eventually, and I'm gonna be there to watch it. Because unlike your current "Mom", I have the means to clear my conscience. My brothers have filled in the gaps in my memory, and given me the peace of mind to clear my name. And on the legal side of things, I'm currently in talks with my cousin, a lawyer down in Texas, to take my case pro-bono so I can sue you & your wicked "family" for everything you took from me.

Your days are numbered, Salizar. And the clock is ticking.

[sillyromance]

🩹,💗,❗️?

Good day, dear anonymous!

🩹 - healing vore:

I think it's very interesting concept which has a kinda joint base with comfort vore but still stands out of other vore scenarios as a unique thing. There is a mix of two directly opposite actions: sending someone inside your stomach and... healing their wounds with this! Using such unusual combination, artists get an endless amount of angsty and comforting scenarios - and also a great push of their imagination limits: their characters can possess anatomical features no one ever thought of before. As for the action itself, it's just very good for a pred to know that they won't ever feel lost or helpless in case their prey friend get into trouble which can lead to the latter being badly injured. The prey feels safer too when knowing their big pal is around... Sensations are pretty enjoyable as well: the feeling of your ache being instantly eased by the miraculous liquids, combined with a soothing vibe of the cozy stomach massaging you is unspeakably beautiful...

So, I definitely love such way of healing!

💗- the most favourite trope:

Well... I suppose: a gentle pred/ a kind and submissive prey. If there are these two, I will love any scenario from safe to fatal. Although, there is one I love the most:

Safe vore/reformation:

A prey comes home after a really rough day; the pred sees it, however, their little friend doesn't admit it. Instead, they just head to their room and start working again - or go to the kitchen, seeking for something to eat... Meanwhile, they big partner watches them silently for some time. The pred hasn't dined yet. But they know perfectly what they want for a snack right now - so, the big guy grabs the shorter one in a nice, tight embrace, saying the prey they were going to dive right in without any delay. The latter tries to protest at first, but quite soon they submit to the gentle cooing and warmth of the pred's hug: the little one sleepily thanks their partner and, finally, gets swallowed up; settling in the warm belly, they gladly sense their sore body relaxing and their mind clearing as tender walls move around them, the gurgling mixing with the pred's calm breath and heartbeat and creating a comforting symphony of natural peace which helps the prey to doze off. The pred feeling good for their friend and for themselves smiles and rubs their visibly rounded stomach which is lovingly churning over its favourite meal...

❗- discovering vore:

I'd say it has been a long way. I remember when I was four me and my father often played a game: he was a monster and I was its prey who had to avoid being eaten. Of course, everything was just for fun: we messed around a lot, giggling and encouraging each other; he often wrapped himself up in a large blanked to seem bigger and "scarier" and then "attacked" me in the darkness with a "monstrous roar". Usually, everything ended up with him "devouring" me which he always loudly announced while I was still laughing after a great session of tickles. I think, that's how the fun began...

The older I got, the more I felt that something strange was going on with me. I was fascinated with snakes who could swallow their victims whole. Sometimes my grandma asked me to read aloud some fairytales - but if it was Red Riding hood, I couldn't help but lowered my voice as it was coming to the "tense part" because I felt quite uncomfortable about it. Especially, because I saw that exact scene in a way I wasn't able to really understand.

But all I knew was that I liked it. It was just... special.

There were other things too; but it is too much to tell. If shortly, there were thoughts. They came to me periodically; and when they did, I sank in them for an hour or two. Then I was trying to imagine myself as both a pred and a prey - and what it should feel like to be one or another.

Once I decided to search in the Internet for something that could satisfy my needs... And there it was. Vore.

I won't lie if I say that I was scared at first due to my mind, basically, connected vore with cannibalism (the mistake many people make when they come across it for the first time)... I literally suffered after I figured out it was I seeked for. Consequently, I tried to block this part of my nature by completely denying it. But things were getting only worse: I couldn't concentrate on my usual businesses, I felt terrible, I was reading and watching EVERYTHING vore-related, even if I didn't like it at all - but I just had to ease the painful pangs attacking my brain. So, after some time, I gave up. I thought it was the best option because that way at least I wouldn't go crazy about the things and I would be able to go around my day without uncontrollable "hunger" I had for vore. That's what saved me.

Slowly, I understood that I wasn't bad or weird. I was simply built like that - like many other nice people, and there was nothing in vore that would really mean harm to anyone. My mom who was aware about my problems supported me as much as she could - and she accepted my interests without any negative words about it. After giving myself freedom, I could study and filter the information I was consuming and, finally, I discovered what I TRULY liked. I calmed down at last. That's when the blog was started which turned out to be the finishing dot in the book of my struggles.

Now, I'm into vore from the bottom of my heart - and I'm not ashamed of that! As many say, it's OK to be different since there is no threat to others. Our features are what make us - us. It's the truth we should never forget about.