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urfavoritewriter · 3 days ago

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Sleepeating

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crunch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No response.

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh… Matt?” he said hesitantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell is he doing?

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

He was hungry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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urfavoritewriter · 25 days ago

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All-Inclusive

A personal story where I indulge in some of the things I like, needed to write a lil thing after the comms.

Content: M/M Vore, Oral Vore, Casual Vore, Teasing, Prey POV, Head-First Swallowing, Belly Bulge, Belly Rubs, Burping, Dom/Prey Dynamics, Tight Stomach, Digestion Implied, Foodplay Themes, Public Vore, Pred/Prey, Power Dynamics, Size Difference, Belly Play

You weren’t supposed to be here.

The invitation came at the last minute—your co-worker, Steve, bailing on the cruise the day before it set sail. You figured it’d be a nice break from the usual grind, maybe even a chance to unwind for once. But now, standing awkwardly in the corner of the cruise buffet with a half-eaten bread roll in hand, you’re wondering if this was a mistake. The other guests are all annoyingly tanned and carefree, laughing too loud, drinking too much, while you hover on the outskirts, hoping to blend in.

And then he walks in.

He looks like every guy who’s way too comfortable on vacation—open Hawaiian shirt barely clinging to his broad shoulders, linen shorts sitting low on his hips, and a pair of aviators perched on his nose even though you’re indoors. His bare chest glistens slightly, either from the heat or leftover pool water, and his stomach... well, it’s impossible to ignore. A soft roundness presses against his waistband—bigger than just a food baby but not quite a beer belly—making it clear that he’s spent more time at the buffet than the gym lately.

You keep staring. You can’t help it. The lazy, swollen curve of his belly, the way it subtly bounces with each step, it’s weirdly... captivating. You pretend to look away every time his head turns, but after a while, it’s obvious you’ve been caught.

“The fuck you lookin' at, man?” His voice cuts through the noise of the buffet, sharp but casual, his tone more annoyed than curious. He raises an eyebrow, tugging his shirt open a little more and tilting his head. “You got a problem or somethin’? Keepin’ an eye on me like I stole somethin’.”

You blink, startled. “What? No, I wasn’t—”

“Bullshit,” he cuts you off, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He pats his belly lazily, making it jiggle just enough to draw attention. “You been eye-fuckin’ this gut since I walked in. What, jealous or somethin'?”

Heat crawls up your neck. “I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He rolls his eyes, brushing past you to load up his plate with more food. You think that’s the end of it—just another awkward interaction to forget about. But when he comes back, plopping down at the table next to yours, he’s not done.

“Got you curious, huh?” he says through a mouthful of shrimp. He leans back in his chair, letting his gut poke out even further. “What, this?” He pats his stomach again, louder this time, grinning as he catches you glancing at it. “Yeah, buffet did me in real good. You like it or somethin’, weirdo?”

You sputter, unsure how to respond. “I-I wasn’t—”

He snickers, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Nah, you were. Don’t even lie about it.” He leans forward, resting one arm on the table, the other lazily rubbing circles over his belly. “What’s the deal, huh? Ain’t never seen a dude enjoy himself before?”

You try to laugh it off, but the sound dies in your throat when he shifts in his seat, scooting closer. His knee bumps yours under the table, and he smirks, catching the way you stiffen.

“Y’know,” he says, voice dropping a little lower, “if you like it so much, you could always get a closer look.” His grin is sharp, playful, but there’s something dangerous lurking beneath it. “Or... hell, maybe you wanna get inside, yeah? Make yourself useful.”

You blink, heart thudding against your ribs. “What?”

He burps—loud, unapologetic, the sound rumbling out of him like a challenge. He grins afterward, swiping a thumb across his lips. “Ahh, sorry, man. That shrimp’s fightin’ back.” He gives his belly a rough pat, making it jiggle again. “Might need somethin’ heavier to settle it, though. What d’you think?”

You try to back away, but he leans in, crowding you against the table. His stomach presses against your side, soft and warm, trapping you in place. “C’mon now, don’t be shy,” he teases, grinning down at you. “You been starin’ all night. Might as well make it worth your while.”

You try to stammer out a response, but he’s already moving—grabbing the chair beside yours and spinning it around to straddle it, his gut practically resting on your arm now. “What, you think I’m jokin’?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, man. I reckon you’d fit just right in here.”

He burps again, this time blowing it right in your face with a laugh. “Whew, you smell that? That’s what’s waitin’ for ya.” He grins as you cough, waving his hand dramatically. “Bet it’ll be nice n’ cozy in there, though. You look like the type that’d enjoy it.”

You try to shift away, but his hand lands on your thigh, heavy and warm, keeping you in place. “Nah, don’t run now,” he murmurs, leaning closer. “Bet you’re wonderin’ what it feels like, huh? Bein’ all snug in there... squished up tight.”

You swallow hard, pulse pounding in your ears. He smirks, clearly seeing the panic in your eyes, and leans back a little, giving his belly a satisfied rub. “You know you want to, man. Might as well admit it.”

Before you can respond, he hooks an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer until your face is nearly pressed into his gut. “There ya go,” he chuckles, giving you a playful shake. “Feel that? That’s where you’re goin’, dude. Right in here.”

His hand slides to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. “C’mon now, don’t fight it,” he whispers, voice low and teasing. “Gonna swallow you whole, nice n’ easy. Just gotta relax.”

He opens his mouth slightly, letting his tongue flick out as if already tasting you. “Bet you’ll taste better than the shrimp, too.”

He doesn’t waste time. One moment, you’re staring at his smug grin, and the next, his hand is gripping the back of your head, fingers tangled roughly in your hair. He’s not gentle about it—there’s no hesitation. His lips stretch wide, and suddenly, your face is pressed into the slick, wet heat of his mouth.

It’s overwhelming. His tongue slathers across your cheeks, slick and hot, tasting you with broad, lazy strokes. A deep, muffled groan rumbles from his throat, vibrating through your entire skull. You try to squirm, but his hands are firm, holding you steady as he takes his time with each slow, deliberate lick. Every moan feels like satisfaction rolling off him in waves, like he’s savoring you.

Your shoulders bump against his lips next, and his jaw works over you greedily, tugging you in deeper with each wet, heavy gulp. The heat is suffocating—humid and thick, making it hard to breathe as his throat tightens around your face. All you can hear are the squelching sounds of his tongue and the soft, satisfied noises escaping from his chest as he pulls you in inch by inch.

He tries to speak—just once. A garbled, muffled attempt that sounds something like “mmmff…ffuck”—but the words get lost around your body, swallowed up by the slick confines of his mouth. He gives up after that, focusing on the task at hand, each gulp dragging you deeper into the dark, wet tunnel of his throat.

The pressure is intense, your head squeezing further into him with every swallow. His throat ripples around you, muscles working to pull you down, relentless and greedy. You can feel his pulse hammering against your skin, the thrum of it steady and strong as his throat flexes around your shoulders. It’s tight—unbearably tight—and every inch of progress feels like you’re being forced deeper into something inescapable.

His belly gurgles loudly, as if in anticipation, the sound vibrating through you as your head begins to slide past the opening into his gut.

And then, suddenly, you’re in.

The transition is abrupt—one second, your head is squeezed in the tight heat of his throat, and the next, you’re sliding into the slick, churning pit of his stomach. It’s hotter here, wetter too. The walls of his gut press in from every side, slick with juices that coat your skin, thick and warm. You feel something soft brush against your cheek—the remnants of the shrimp he’d devoured earlier, half-digested and floating in the sour broth of his stomach.

The air is thick, sour with the smell of food and digestive acids, and it clings to every breath you manage to steal. His stomach groans deeply, the sound vibrating through the tight space, as if welcoming its newest occupant. It squeezes around your head, kneading you into place like you already belong there.

Outside, the pred grunts with effort, his throat still working to swallow more of you down. The world narrows to the relentless pull of his gut and the humid press of his belly against your body. Your chest is next, sliding past his lips with a wet shlop as he takes another gulp, dragging you deeper.

His moans are louder now, reverberating through your entire body. Each noise is a mix of satisfaction and exertion, a primal sound that makes it clear he’s not just enjoying this—he’s thriving on it. His gut stretches to accommodate you, the skin bulging as more of your body disappears inside. You can feel it growing tighter, pressing you into the mess of half-digested shrimp and thick gastric juices already sloshing around inside.

You try to push back, just on instinct, but it’s no use. His throat is too tight, too determined to let anything go but down. Another wet gulp drags your waist past his lips, and you feel the rest of your body shift, sliding further into the sweltering heat of his gut.

By the time he gets to your thighs, his pace has quickened, each swallow coming more eagerly than the last. He’s lost in it now—every moan, every rumble of his belly a clear sign that he’s fully given in to the pleasure of swallowing you. His throat pulls you down greedily, his hands gripping your legs to guide them in, shoving the last of you inside.

Your legs kick weakly as they slide past his lips, but he just groans, one final, satisfied sound, and tilts his head back with a deep, powerful swallow.

Schlop.

The last of you slips down his throat, and with a loud, contented gulp, you’re gone.

Inside his belly, everything is tight, wet, and sweltering. The stomach walls squeeze you from all sides, pressing you deeper into the mess of food and digestive juices. Every shift of his body sends ripples through the tight space, sloshing you around like just another meal. The air is so thick it’s hard to breathe, each shallow inhale filling your lungs with the sour scent of digestion.

And then, outside, you hear it—a loud, rumbling burp that echoes through the confined space of his stomach, shaking you to your core.

“Oooof,” he groans, rubbing a hand lazily over the massive swell of his gut. “Man, you settled in good. Felt ya fightin’ for a second there—thought I might have to spit ya out. But nah... you fit just right.”

He leans back in his chair, letting his gut hang heavy between his thighs, bulging out with the clear outline of your body inside. “Shit,” he mutters, giving his belly a satisfied slap. “You’re bigger than you looked. Got me feelin’ all stretched out n’ shit.”

His fingers trace slow circles over the bulging curve of his stomach, feeling the way you shift slightly beneath the surface. Another burp rumbles out of him, this one even louder than the last, and he grins, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Whew. Yeah, that’s what I needed.” He grins, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Bet you thought you’d freak me out or somethin’, huh? Like I’d be all weirded out by this shit. Nah, man. I think I’m gonna keep ya in here a while.”

He stretches lazily, letting out a contented sigh. “Shit, maybe I’ll even take ya out for a walk. Show ya off a bit. Let everybody see what a good fuckin' job I did stuffin’ ya down in there.”

His hand presses down harder on his gut, squishing you deeper into the mess inside. You hear him chuckle low in his throat, the sound vibrating through every inch of his belly.

“Bet they’ll get a kick outta seein' this,” he says, patting his gut one more time. “Big ol’ belly full of some weirdo who couldn’t keep his eyes to himself.”

With that, he leans back, letting his belly settle heavy and round against his lap, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Yeah... think I’m gonna like havin’ ya in there. Hope you’re comfy, dude. ‘Cause you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

And with one last, lazy burp, he pats his gut again, closing his eyes with a contented sigh.

“You’re mine now.”

#M/M Vore #Oral Vore #Casual Vore #Teasing #Prey POV #Head-First Swallowing #Belly Bulge #Belly Rubs #Burping #Dom/Prey Dynamics #Tight Stomach #Digestion Implied #Foodplay Themes #Public Vore #Pred/Prey #Power Dynamics #Size Difference #Belly Play

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