urfavoritewriter

[urfavoritewriter]

hey i came across your profile and it seems interesting if you want to be part of a sugar relationship dm me

PSA: Scamming Awareness

(For demonstration purposes, I was asked a similar question by the account @andrepapii, who has deleted it because I called him out on being a scammer.)

I knew from the get-go it was a scam and wanted to waste as much of his time as possible and fuck with him to piss him off.

This post is just to tell you guys to NOT click on any links sent to you by email, to not reply to any scam emails, etc… depending on the type of attack, they WILL steal your personal information JUST by accessing the link.

When you’re asked to pay an ‘acceptance’ fee (by a fake PayPal email or other financial service) to accept the huge deposit, it is almost always a scam. Please be careful out there, and I don’t recommend you fuck with scammers unless you know what you’re doing.

Might delete this later, but thought I’d raise some awareness.

[urfavoritewriter]

Stuffed

A commission from a lovely user here on Tumblr, thank you for commissioning me!

Content: Accidental vore, digestion, belly bulge, belly noises, squirming prey, struggling prey, internal struggle, swollen belly, round belly, casual vore, male pred, human pred, M/M, large belly, stomach noises, tight stomach, prey struggling inside, unwilling prey, teasing, male prey, digestion noises, beginner gainer, dominant pred, resigned pred.

"Alright, bro, one more bite," Ethan grinned, his hand outstretched, holding a loaded fork of buttery mashed potatoes.

Across from him, Dylan leaned back against the couch, shirtless, his blue "Growth" shorts hanging low on his hips. His stomach had the faintest curve of fullness, a soft bloat that pushed out just slightly over his waistband. He rubbed a hand across it absently, his other arm propped lazily on the couch's armrest.

He had a lean, athletic build, the kind that came from a mix of casual workouts and an easy metabolism. His chest and arms were defined but not bulky, with a light tan that suggested he spent more time outside than in the gym. His short, ashy-brown hair was slightly messy, the kind of style that didn’t take much effort to look decent, paired with a subtle goatee that gave his otherwise youthful face a touch of maturity. His hazel eyes had a sharpness to them, but his expressions were easygoing, often softening into an amused smirk or a raised brow. A faint tattoo curved just above his left pectoral, simple and understated, like it was more for him than anyone else. He carried himself with a relaxed posture, like someone who wasn’t in a rush to impress anyone but was comfortable in his own skin.

"Bro, I already feel like I’m about to pop," Dylan groaned, though the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. His breath hitched slightly as Ethan pressed the fork closer, right under his nose. "You're insane."

"Insane?" Ethan scoffed, stepping closer with mock offense. "You’re the one who said you wanted to bulk up. I'm just being a good friend. Now, open up. Don’t make me force-feed your ass."

Dylan huffed but opened his mouth, letting Ethan shove the forkful in. "Mmm," he mumbled through a mouthful, rolling his eyes but still chewing. The rich, salty flavor of the potatoes filled his mouth as he swallowed it down. He patted his stomach again, laughing under his breath. "Seriously, I look like I’m carrying a food baby already."

Ethan smirked, grabbing a chicken thigh from the plate on the coffee table. "Baby? Nah, that’s like a first-trimester snack, my guy. You’ve got plenty of room in there." His eyes flicked down to Dylan’s midsection, watching the subtle swell with something bordering on fascination. "Besides, you know what they say: abs are made in the kitchen."

"Yeah," Dylan shot back, smirking. "And you're trying to turn me into a damn Michelin Man in the kitchen."

Ethan snorted, tossing the bone aside as he tore off another piece of meat. "Shut up. You’re gonna thank me when you’re benching 250 and lookin’ thick as hell. Now sit up straight, you're makin’ my job harder."

Dylan rolled his eyes but sat forward slightly, his stomach pushing out more as he leaned toward the plate. Ethan wasted no time, piling another forkful of potatoes onto a slice of steak and practically shoving it into Dylan's mouth.

"Jesus, dude," Dylan muttered after swallowing, reaching up to wipe a bit of grease off his lip. "You’re really tryna kill me with this. I can feel it hitting my ribs."

"You’ll live," Ethan teased, grinning wider. His hand brushed briefly against Dylan’s stomach as he reached for another forkful of food, fingers grazing the soft swell. "Or maybe not. Damn, you’re starting to feel solid."

Dylan blinked, heat rushing to his face at the comment, though he quickly covered it up with a laugh. "Solid? You’re making it sound like I’m some kind of stuffed turkey."

"Not yet," Ethan shot back, eyes twinkling with amusement. He jabbed the fork toward Dylan’s mouth again. "But we’re getting there."

Dylan sighed but relented, taking another bite. As he chewed, Ethan leaned back slightly, hands on his hips, observing his friend like an artist sizing up their work. Dylan’s belly was noticeably fuller now, his posture slightly slouched as he adjusted to the growing pressure in his gut. A small hiccup escaped him, and he gave Ethan a playful glare.

"Alright, that’s it. I’m cutting you off before I explode," Dylan declared, waving a hand.

But Ethan’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew wider. He leaned in again, one eyebrow cocked. "C’mon, you’ve got this. One more bite for the gains. Just one." His voice dropped, teasing. "Don’t quit on me now, champ."

Dylan hesitated, glancing between the plate of food and Ethan’s stupidly smug expression. "You’re the worst," he muttered, but his mouth opened anyway.

Ethan didn’t hesitate, stuffing the next bite in before Dylan could change his mind. What neither of them noticed, though, was how Ethan’s hand lingered just a moment too long, fingers brushing the corner of Dylan’s lips and then sliding back toward his chin, as if guiding him to chew, to swallow, to take in more.

Ethan leaned forward, his hand clutching another loaded fork of steak and potatoes, his eyes locked on Dylan’s stomach. "Man, for someone who’s just starting out, you’re already rocking a solid gut. Beginner my ass—you’re built for this, dude," he teased, his tone playful but insistent. He gave Dylan’s belly a light smack, the faint jiggle beneath his fingers making him grin. "C’mon, don’t go soft on me now."

Dylan groaned, leaning back again with a sharp exhale. His hand instinctively drifted to his bloated stomach, rubbing the tight, stretched skin. "Ethan, seriously, I’m about to explode. This is—ugh—getting ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" Ethan echoed with mock disbelief. He dropped the fork back onto the plate and grabbed a slider bun stuffed with pulled pork. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed it toward Dylan’s lips. "What’s ridiculous is you whining when you’ve got the gut to take way more than this. Now open up, champ."

Dylan turned his head away, laughing despite himself. "You’re relentless, man. I’m gonna regret this."

"You’ll regret it more if you quit," Ethan countered, his tone dipping into something more taunting. "What kind of gainer gives up at halftime, huh? You wanna be soft and small forever, or are we doing this?"

"God, you’re annoying," Dylan muttered, but his mouth opened anyway, reluctantly letting Ethan shove the slider in. The bread and meat were warm and rich, the flavors almost overwhelming as he chewed and swallowed. The pressure in his gut tightened, and he let out a low belch that caught him by surprise.

"That’s what I’m talking about," Ethan laughed, giving Dylan’s stomach another firm pat. "You’re just getting started, big guy. Let’s go for round two."

"I hate you," Dylan said, but the grin tugging at the corners of his lips betrayed him.

Ethan didn’t stop. He grabbed another handful of food—this time a fistful of fries—and pushed them toward Dylan’s face. "Hate me all you want, but you’ll love the gains, I promise. Now shut up and eat."

Dylan opened his mouth begrudgingly, but this time Ethan didn’t stop at fries. His hand lingered, his fingers pressing a little further into Dylan’s mouth as he nudged the last bits in.

"Yeah, just like that—" Ethan started, but his voice cut off as Dylan instinctively swallowed, his throat working over Ethan’s fingers.

Ethan froze. "Uh, Dylan? You good?" he asked, his voice half-laughing, half-worried.

Dylan’s brows knitted in confusion as he blinked up at him. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and a warm, wet pressure encased Ethan’s hand. It was only when Ethan tried to pull back and felt the suction tugging his fingers deeper that the realization hit them both.

"Bro," Ethan stammered, wide-eyed. "Are you—are you swallowing me?"

Ethan didn’t stop. He reached for the plate again, piling on more food, ignoring Dylan’s protests as if they were nothing more than background noise. Dylan slouched further back into the couch, his stomach visibly rising now, pressing against his shorts’ waistband. The faint curve from earlier had grown into a noticeable roundness, and every breath he took seemed to stretch his skin tighter over the packed fullness beneath.

Ethan leaned forward, smirking as he grabbed a slice of steak and some potatoes, rolling them together in one hand. "Come on, beginner boy," he said, his voice low and teasing. "You said you wanted gains, right? Well, you’ve got the gut for it now. Let’s fill it up properly."

Dylan groaned, his hands resting limply over his stomach like they might somehow hold back the growing pressure. Ethan paid no attention. His hand hovered just above Dylan’s mouth, the mashed potatoes already starting to smear along Dylan’s lips as he pressed the bundle closer. Dylan turned his head slightly, grumbling under his breath, but Ethan tilted his chin back with a firm nudge.

"Open up," Ethan said, almost a growl, his fingers steady as they pushed the food forward. Dylan’s jaw parted reluctantly, and Ethan slid the food in, his thumb grazing over Dylan’s tongue as he withdrew his hand.

The swallow was audible, a thick, wet gulp that made Dylan wince and breathe out sharply. Ethan’s eyes darted down, catching the way Dylan’s bloated stomach tensed with the effort, the skin stretching taut like an overinflated balloon.

"Shit, bro," Ethan muttered, half-laughing as he grabbed another piece of steak and mashed potatoes from the plate. "Look at that belly. You’re already looking stuffed, and we’re just getting started." He pressed the next piece into Dylan’s mouth, watching with a strange mix of satisfaction and fascination as Dylan’s throat worked to swallow it down. The sound was heavier now, slower, and Dylan’s chest heaved slightly as he fought to keep up.

"Too much," Dylan rasped, his voice hoarse as he leaned back further, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. His hands drifted to his stomach, fingers brushing the curve of his gut like he didn’t quite believe how big it had gotten.

"Nah, you’re fine," Ethan said, his tone dismissive as he reached for more food. "You wanted to bulk up, didn’t you? You gotta eat like it, man. Don’t go quitting on me now."

Ethan leaned in closer this time, holding the next bite to Dylan’s lips, but this time, Dylan’s head tilted slightly. His lips parted again, more out of instinct than intent, and Ethan didn’t hesitate. He pressed the food forward, guiding it into Dylan’s mouth. Dylan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, the movement slower now, more strained.

But Ethan didn’t pull back. His hand lingered too long this time, fingers still brushing Dylan’s tongue as he went to add more. Dylan’s mouth opened wider, reflexively, and before either of them realized it, his lips closed around Ethan’s fingers.

Ethan froze, a laugh bubbling in his throat. "Uh, bro?" he started, but Dylan’s throat worked again, and his hand was tugged forward, the warmth of Dylan’s mouth closing further up his wrist.

Dylan’s eyes were closed, moaning, his instincts already taking over. His throat contracted, pulling Ethan’s hand in deeper, his body working on autopilot. Ethan’s laugh faltered, replaced with a sharp intake of breath as he tried to pull back, but Dylan’s grip was stronger than either of them expected.

Dylan’s throat worked rhythmically, completely out of sync with the reality of what was happening. Ethan’s hand slid deeper, his wrist vanishing past Dylan’s lips as his throat bulged slightly with the effort. Each swallow was slow, steady, and deliberate, though Dylan’s glazed expression and the dazed heaviness in his half-lidded eyes showed he was oblivious to the situation.

Ethan’s arm twitched as he tried to pull back, but it was no use. Dylan’s body had its own agenda now, driven by the instinct to consume and keep going. His throat tightened again, the powerful muscles drawing Ethan further in, pulling his forearm past the curve of Dylan’s jaw. The wet, slick sound of swallowing filled the room, almost drowned out by Ethan’s sudden, stifled grunt as his arm disappeared up to the elbow.

"D-Dylan!" Ethan gasped, his voice breaking as he tried to yank his arm free, the motion only helping Dylan’s throat work faster. Dylan leaned back instinctively, his head tilting to make the process easier, his body operating on autopilot. The movement caused his stomach to shift, and he grunted softly, his free hand absently rubbing the firm swell beneath his ribs as if that might help the growing discomfort.

The tight pull of his throat forced Ethan’s other arm up, making him lose balance. His torso pressed against Dylan’s chest, and Dylan’s lips widened naturally to accommodate the new bulk. His jaw stretched wider, effortlessly taking Ethan’s shoulder as if it were second nature.

Ethan’s muffled protests were drowned in the slick, squelching sounds of Dylan’s throat, each contraction pulling him deeper, his chest sinking into the warm, flexing grip of Dylan’s gullet. Dylan didn’t even pause, didn’t seem to register the increasing weight pressing against him. His throat bulged visibly, his body instinctively adjusting to the load as he swallowed again, this time with a wet, audible gulp that sent Ethan’s upper chest sliding deeper.

His lips stretched around Ethan’s ribs, his throat working mechanically to draw him further in. Dylan shifted slightly, leaning forward now as Ethan’s weight dragged him, forcing him to adjust. His hands gripped the couch, his fingers tightening as his body found a rhythm, each powerful gulp guiding Ethan’s frame deeper, with no signs of hesitation or awareness.

Ethan’s legs kicked weakly as his waist reached Dylan’s lips. The taut curve of Dylan’s throat pressed against his own chest, Ethan’s muffled voice barely audible now, drowned beneath the steady, wet noise of swallowing. Dylan’s gut began to swell noticeably, the taut curve expanding into something larger, rounder, as more of Ethan’s body slid inside.

Another deep swallow sent Ethan’s hips into Dylan’s mouth, the weight pressing down on his lap as his stomach stretched further, rounder, the skin tight and gleaming with strain. Dylan groaned softly, his hand pressing against the growing dome of his gut, but there was no hesitation in his body’s movements. His throat bulged again as Ethan’s thighs slid past his lips, the sensation barely registering.

Ethan’s calves were next, and Dylan leaned back into the couch again, his lips parting wider as he tilted his head back to let gravity assist the final stretch. His throat flexed powerfully, a deep, wet gulp sending Ethan’s knees down, his legs curling slightly as they disappeared further.

With one final swallow, Dylan’s lips closed around Ethan’s toes, his throat tightening to draw them down in a smooth, final motion. He exhaled heavily, his chest rising and falling as his body finally stilled. His gut was massive now, a heaving, tightly-stretched dome that pinned him against the couch, the weight pressing heavily on his thighs.

Dylan blinked slowly, his hand resting on the crest of his swollen stomach, his breath steadying as he absentmindedly rubbed the taut skin. A low, soft groan escaped him, his body adjusting to the fullness without a single ounce of realization of what he had just done.

Dylan let out a long, slow exhale, his hand dragging lazily over the massive curve of his stomach. His head tipped back against the couch as his breathing steadied, his whole body feeling sluggish and heavy, like he’d just polished off a buffet for ten. Except… this wasn’t just food. Something wasn’t adding up.

A muffled sound from deep within his gut snapped his eyes open. His brow furrowed as he stared down at the swollen dome pressing against his thighs. The weight felt… different. Denser. Shifting faintly under his palm, almost like—

“Shit,” Dylan muttered, his voice breaking the quiet. He blinked again, slower this time, his hand pausing mid-rub. His brain, still hazy from the sheer effort of swallowing, tried to piece together what the hell had just happened. His fingers pressed into the firm, tight swell of his belly, feeling the stretched skin and the subtle movement beneath.

"Bro?" he said aloud, his voice low, almost uncertain. Another muffled sound came from inside, louder this time, followed by a distinct push against the inside of his gut—something pressing back. Dylan’s stomach gurgled in protest, a loud, drawn-out groan that felt more like a warning than anything else.

He groaned, leaning forward slightly and bracing a hand on the couch, the motion causing his stomach to shift. “No way… No fuckin’ way.” His free hand pressed harder into the taut curve, the heat radiating from his belly only making the realization sink in further. Ethan wasn’t just gone—he was inside.

The weight was unreal, heavier than anything Dylan had ever imagined, his gut stretching farther than it had any right to. He glanced down at the way it pushed out over the waistband of his shorts, the tight skin gleaming faintly in the dim light. His gut was rock-solid, packed full not just with food but with— “Holy shit, bro,” Dylan muttered again, his voice dropping into something between disbelief and faint amusement. “You’re in there with all the mashed potatoes and steak. What the actual fuck.”

A muffled shout rose up from his stomach, faint but definitely Ethan’s voice. Dylan blinked, processing the sound, but it was barely distinguishable—just a low, frustrated string of noises completely swallowed by the layers of muscle and skin keeping Ethan pinned inside. Dylan couldn’t make out a single word, but he could feel the vibrations of Ethan trying to shout, the faint shifting as Ethan squirmed.

“Dude, it’s tight as hell in there, huh?” Dylan said, more to himself than anyone else, his lips quirking into a faint, sheepish grin. He rubbed a hand over his belly again, fingers trailing over the taut curve, pausing where he felt the most movement. “Guess that’s what you get for force-feeding me, huh? You wanted me to bulk up, and now you’re part of it.”

Another muffled noise came from inside, followed by what felt like a weak kick against the inner wall of Dylan’s gut. The sensation made him wince slightly, his stomach gurgling loudly in protest. “Alright, alright, chill out in there. You’re not exactly making this easier for either of us.” He leaned back again, trying to shift into a position that didn’t press the weight of his gut so hard against his thighs. The movement only made the pressure worse, his belly groaning as it adjusted to the strain.

Dylan sighed, dragging a hand through his messy hair and letting his head fall back again. “How the hell did I even manage that?” he muttered, almost to himself. “I mean, you’re not exactly small, dude. Jesus.”

Another push from inside made him sit up straighter, his gut wobbling slightly from the motion. Ethan was clearly not settling down, and Dylan could feel the tight, cramped movements as his friend tried to reposition himself among the mess of food. His gut let out another low groan, the sounds inside almost as loud as Ethan’s muffled protests.

“Alright, bro, I get it,” Dylan said, his tone a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement. He slapped the side of his belly lightly, feeling the vibrations ripple through. “You wanna get out. I hear ya. I just… I gotta figure out how to do that without making this whole thing worse.”

He leaned forward again, bracing both hands on his belly, his fingers pressing into the firm, stretched skin. The weight made it hard to move, let alone think, but he could feel Ethan shifting inside, trying to find space that simply wasn’t there. Dylan grimaced, his mind racing for a solution.

“Okay,” he muttered, half to himself. “Let’s figure this out before I actually end up digesting your ass.” His stomach gurgled loudly at the mention, and he frowned, swatting it lightly. “Don’t even think about it, man.”

He shifted again, his hands steadying the massive dome of his belly as he tried to stand. The weight pulled him back down almost immediately, and he grunted, planting his feet more firmly.

Dylan groaned, leaning over the kitchen sink as his gut let out another wet, ominous gurgle. His palms braced against the counter, his belly pressing uncomfortably into the edge. He’d been trying for hours to fix this—to undo what he’d somehow, impossibly, done—but nothing was working.

He’d tried everything. First, he tried drinking water, guzzling down glass after glass, hoping it might loosen something or make Ethan’s situation more bearable. But all it did was make his gut slosh even louder, the added weight stretching his stomach tighter, more painfully. Ethan’s muffled voice—barely audible at this point—had been filled with frustrated grunts and weak cries, but even those had started to fade.

Then Dylan had tried forcing himself to throw up. He jammed his fingers down his throat repeatedly, gagging over the sink, his eyes watering from the effort. But nothing came up. His stomach clenched painfully, but it refused to release anything. If anything, it felt tighter, like his body was digging in, holding onto everything inside, refusing to let go.

“Goddammit,” Dylan muttered, his voice shaky. He paced the kitchen in slow, uneven steps, his swollen gut swaying slightly with the motion. Every step sent another wave of pressure rolling through him, his stomach groaning as if mocking him. “Ethan, bro, I’m trying, I swear,” he said, though he knew Ethan couldn’t understand him. The muffled protests from inside had turned into weak, occasional noises, barely registering against the wet, relentless churn of digestion.

The hours ticked by, and every failed attempt to get Ethan out only made the situation worse. Dylan tried jumping, bending, twisting, anything to dislodge the mass in his gut. He even laid flat on the floor, pushing and kneading at his belly like he was trying to coax something stuck out of a drain. But nothing worked. Ethan didn’t budge.

“Fuck, man,” Dylan said, his voice breaking as he sat back against the couch, sweat glistening on his forehead. His gut was massive now, swollen and heavy, the skin flushed and stretched taut. Every few minutes, it would let out another deep, wet groan, the sound of digestion growing louder, more insistent. He pressed his hands into his belly, feeling the faint movements inside—Ethan’s weak struggles becoming less and less frequent.

“I didn’t mean for this,” Dylan whispered, his voice cracking. He rubbed his belly again, his fingers trailing over the tight curve. He could feel the heat radiating from it, the way his body was working overtime to process everything inside. Including Ethan. Especially Ethan.

Another muffled groan came from within, followed by a sharp kick that made Dylan wince. “I know, bro, I know,” he said, his voice shaking. “I don’t want this either, alright?” His throat tightened as he said the words, the weight of them settling heavily in his chest. “But I don’t know what else to do.”

He leaned back, his head resting against the couch as he stared at the ceiling, his breaths shallow and uneven. The hours had dragged on, and it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the reality of what was happening. His body wasn’t waiting. It was working, relentless, determined to break Ethan down, no matter how much Dylan wanted to stop it.

He leaned back, his head resting against the couch as he stared at the ceiling, his breaths slow and steady. The hours had dragged on, and Dylan’s body had made its decision long before his brain had caught up. His stomach wasn’t waiting. It worked relentlessly, determined to break Ethan down, no matter how much he’d fought it at first. Now, though? Now he was just done fighting.

Ethan’s muffled cries had weakened into faint, pitiful noises, barely audible over the deep, rolling churns of Dylan’s gut. The earlier frantic kicks and shoves had dulled to pathetic twitches, barely registering anymore against the stretched walls of his belly. Dylan pressed his hand to the side of his gut, feeling the faint, fading resistance beneath the tight skin. It was almost like his friend was giving up, and honestly, Dylan wasn’t far behind.

“Man, you’re still at it?” Dylan muttered, rubbing the firm swell of his stomach. His voice was calm, almost lazy, with a sharp edge of indifference. “Hate to break it to you, but I think you’re outta options in there. You’re not going anywhere, bro. Not now.”

Another wet groan rumbled through his gut, deep and loud, almost mocking. Dylan smirked faintly, shifting on the couch to get comfortable, the weight of his bloated stomach pressing heavily into his thighs. His hand dragged across the massive dome, his fingers tracing the curve where Ethan was packed tight. “Guess that’s just how it’s gonna be,” he said, his tone casual, like they were talking about the weather. “Shit happens, man. You knew what you were getting into when you started stuffing me like that.”

He could feel Ethan still moving weakly, little nudges against the unyielding walls of his stomach, but the fight was almost gone. Every twitch was slower, weaker than the last. Dylan rubbed his belly absently, feeling the churns grow stronger as his body doubled down, working Ethan into the mess of food still sitting heavily in his gut.

“Man, I tried,” Dylan said, though there wasn’t much conviction in his voice. “I gave it a shot, but let’s be real—you were dead weight from the jump. And now? Now you’re just dinner.” He snorted softly, giving his belly a light slap. “Guess you’re finally pulling your weight, though. Literally.”

Ethan’s movements stilled briefly before resuming, but they were faint, almost nonexistent now. Dylan felt the shift inside as his gut gurgled louder, the sounds deep and deliberate. His body wasn’t just digesting—it was finishing the job, and Dylan was past the point of caring.

“Yeah, man,” he muttered, his voice quieter now but no less resigned. “It is what it is. You’re not getting out of there. So you might as well stop squirming and make it easy for both of us.” He leaned back further, his hand still rubbing lazy circles over his stomach, the heat from his gut almost comforting now.

Another deep, wet groan echoed from inside, louder this time, followed by the faintest twitch from Ethan. Dylan smirked again, his hand pressing into the heavy curve of his belly. “See? That’s better. Just let it happen, bro. You’re not getting out, so you might as well settle in.”

Ethan’s muffled voice had faded into silence now, drowned beneath the relentless churns and gurgles of digestion. Dylan let his eyes drift shut, the weight of his gut pinning him to the couch, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time in hours.

[urfavoritewriter]

Just saw a recent ask & I’d LOVE to see graphic disposal writings. Implied/tease is always nice but I find nothing hotter than a man being reduced to nothing but a pile of waste to be flushed down to the sewers 🤤😈🥵

I can definitely include that in my next personal oral vore story (unless it's something a commissioner also wants). I've never written disposal before but I aim to please all the disposal fans out there. ;)

When I do, I'll leave it at the very end and put a disclaimer for people who are not into it to stop reading at that point. So anyone can enjoy the story regardless

[urfavoritewriter]

Love your stories, is there a chance to add implied disposal? Not the graphic part but the characters acknowledging it and/or the pred ready to “release” the prey or something along those lines

I've never thought to write disposal or implied disposal, but it's something I'm open to, especially if it's implied. I'll try to include that in my next non-commission vore story.

But for all the disposal fans out there, I'm definitely open to writing it if you're into the graphic parts of it ;)

[urfavoritewriter]

Sleepeating

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crunch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No response.

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh… Matt?” he said hesitantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell is he doing?

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

He was hungry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[urfavoritewriter]

Thanks to anyone who voted! I see equal amounts of interest and disinterest, and being honest I didn't think that many people would be -this- interested.

Patreon is likely not coming for a little while, but I'll keep everyone updated once I have enough time to dedicate it to my future patrons!

I've had my other writer friends recommend that I open up a Patreon to post more stories there, do community votes, commission discounts for members, some exclusives, etc... But I'm not sure I'm well-known enough to have one.

Would people be interested? And don't worry, having a Patreon won't stop me from still posting stories here for people to enjoy.

[urfavoritewriter]

I've had my other writer friends recommend that I open up a Patreon to post more stories there, do community votes, commission discounts for members, some exclusives, etc... But I'm not sure I'm well-known enough to have one.

Would people be interested? And don't worry, having a Patreon won't stop me from still posting stories here for people to enjoy.

[urfavoritewriter]

November Commissions Open!

November writing commissions open! I write any kind of SFW / NSFW content of any adult characters, whether it be vore, stuffing, or the like. You can check for specifics on what I do and don't do (plus pricing) in my commission sheet. If you're interested, message me on Tumblr or on Discord @urfavoritewriter.

Payment this time around will be upfront, after which I'll start working on your story immediately.

[urfavoritewriter]

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.”

[urfavoritewriter]

I’m curious as to what you guys want me to write more of when it comes to personal stories. Comment if you want to elaborate further, I’d love to see overall what *you* enjoy seeing more of, even specifics such as burping, teasing, safe or fatal, or otherwise. Feel free to share all of that in your comment.

[urfavoritewriter]

Any more mr bear stories?

I think you’re mistaking me for @mmvwriter , I don’t own a character called Mr. Bear. On that note, if any of y’all haven’t already, go check his stories of Mr. Bear, they’re phenomenal

[urfavoritewriter]

Bear Beer Belly

A commission for an anonymous user here featuring a bear pred, I absolutely love bears & I'm glad I finally have the chance to write 'em. Thank you so much for commissioning me!

Content: M/M Vore, Oral Vore, Digestion, Long Digestion, Willing Prey, Reluctant Pred, Bear Pred, Hairy Pred, Teasing, Casual Teasing, Painful Digestion, Belly Worship, Belly Rubs, Burping, Predator/Prey Dynamics, Friend Vore, Size Difference, Gut Bulge, Desperation, Crushing

“Mate, you’ve gotta be kidding,” Olly said, leaning back on the worn-out sofa, scratching his thick beard. His massive frame barely fit into the old piece of furniture, his stomach peeking out from under his grey shirt, showing a bit of that furry belly he was known for. His deep, baritone voice had a hint of confusion and discomfort, as he stared across at his best friend, Jamie, who was pacing nervously.

    “I’m not. I’ve thought about this for ages, Ol. I... I need you to do it,” Jamie muttered, biting his lip. He stood there, thin and wiry, with wide eyes and hands fidgeting at his sides. His voice shook, but there was a stubborn determination in it.

    “Mate, come on. You’re asking me to... eat you. Like, actually eat you,” Olly said, running a hand through his messy brown hair. He wasn’t really sure how to handle this. “You don’t just drop this shit on someone over beers, yeah?”

    Jamie stopped pacing and turned to face him, his eyes pleading. “I know, I know it sounds mental, but... it’s what I want. You’re my best mate, Olly. There’s no one else I’d trust with this. You’ve gotta do it. I’m begging you.”

    Olly frowned, looking away, a hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s not that I don’t... appreciate the trust, but... fuck, Jamie. How do you even expect me to do something like that? I’m not—”

    “You are, Ol. You’re the only one who can,” Jamie interrupted, stepping closer. “Please, mate, you’ve gotta stop pretending this isn’t what we’ve both thought about. You’re a... you’re a fucking bear,” Jamie’s voice cracked slightly, but he reached out, placing a hand on Olly’s knee. “You’ve got the body, the strength. You could do it, easy. And... and I need it. I need you to swallow me whole.”

    Olly's brow furrowed as he looked at Jamie’s desperate face. His gut churned with a mix of discomfort and something else he didn’t want to acknowledge. “You’re mad. I could seriously hurt you. Christ, Jamie, I could kill you.”

    “I know!” Jamie’s voice was almost a shout now, and he slid onto his knees in front of Olly, grabbing his hand. “That’s the point! I’m begging you, Olly. It’s what I want. What I need.”

    Olly stared down at his mate, who was gripping his hand like a lifeline. “Jamie, mate, listen to yourself. You’re asking for something that—”

    Jamie cut him off again, this time more forcefully, grabbing Olly’s hand and pushing it toward his own face, even slipping Olly’s thick fingers into his mouth. His eyes were wild, desperate. “Do it, Olly. Swallow me. I’m ready, please.”

    Olly pulled his hand back, his breath coming quicker now, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t like the way Jamie’s voice was cracking, the way his body trembled. He looked away, unable to meet Jamie’s gaze. “I can’t, mate. I just... can’t.”

    Jamie, trembling now, grabbed Olly’s hand again, shoving it back against his lips, almost pushing the fingers into his mouth. “You can! You fucking can, Olly! Just—just start! Please!” His words were muffled now, desperate, as he pushed his face against Olly’s palm, his breath ragged.

    Olly felt his heart hammering in his chest, his mind racing. Every instinct told him to push Jamie away, to stop this madness, but... he couldn’t ignore the way Jamie was begging for it. For him.

    Olly let out a deep sigh, his hand still hovering near Jamie's face, feeling his mate’s hot breath on his skin. He could see it now, plain as day—the bulge straining against Jamie’s jeans, his eyes glazed over with lust. “You’re fuckin’ serious, aren’t ya?” Olly muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “Bloody hell, you’re even hard.”

    Jamie’s face flushed, but he didn’t pull away. His hand was already pressing against the front of his jeans, rubbing slow circles over his erection as he stared up at Olly. “Please, Ol. I... I want it,” he whispered, voice thick with need.

    Olly chuckled darkly, his wide chest rising and falling under his shirt as he looked down at Jamie, eyes narrowing. “You’re a proper filthy fucker, Jamie. Look at you. Gaggin’ for it.” He leaned forward, his large hand gripping Jamie’s chin. “Alright then, let’s see if you’re really up for this.”

    Olly sat up a bit straighter, leaning his hefty frame forward, looming over Jamie. Slowly, deliberately, he opened his mouth, letting his thick, wet tongue slide out, close enough for Jamie to feel the heat of his breath. “Last chance to bail, mate,” Olly teased, but he knew what he’d see.

    Jamie’s breathing hitched, his hand squeezing his bulge harder as he rubbed himself through his jeans. “Fuck... Olly... do it,” he panted, his voice barely above a whisper, his body trembling with a mix of fear and arousal.

    Olly growled low in his throat, shaking his head as he leaned in. His lips parted further, and with a slow, almost agonizing pace, he let his tongue drag across Jamie’s cheek, tasting the salt of his skin. His other hand gripped Jamie’s jaw, holding him in place. “You’re a right horny bastard, Jamie. Bet you’d cum just from this, wouldn’t ya?” His voice was thick with amusement, his words a taunt.

    Without waiting for a response, Olly pushed forward, letting Jamie’s head press into his mouth. His tongue slid across Jamie’s face, tasting the sweat and heat, the salty tang of his skin. No hesitation now. Olly was done teasing. His thick lips stretched wider as he pushed Jamie’s head deeper inside, the warmth of his mouth engulfing him.

    Jamie’s body tensed for a second, but not out of fear. His hands moved faster, one unzipping his jeans in a rush, shoving them down just enough to grip his cock. “Fuck… Olly...” he groaned, panting hard as his fingers wrapped tight around his shaft, jerking it fast, slick from precum. The pressure of Olly’s mouth on him only spurred him on.

    Olly sucked hard, his tongue swirling around Jamie’s head, tasting every inch of his skin. His breath was hot and heavy, nose pressed against Jamie’s neck, sucking him deeper. With a grunt, he tugged Jamie closer, guiding him further inside, lips sealed tight around his mate’s face.

    Jamie’s voice was a muffled moan, barely making it past Olly’s throat. His hands worked faster, jerking himself off like his life depended on it, muttering a string of curses under his breath. “Fuck… oh, fuck...”

    Olly could feel the way Jamie was squirming, the way his body trembled, and it made him grin around his mouthful. “Told you… you were a filthy fucker,” he growled, though his words were muffled now too. He pushed Jamie in further, feeling the hard, quick movements of Jamie’s hands as he rubbed his cock furiously, already dripping.

    He was halfway there. No turning back now.

    With a rough shove, Olly’s throat opened wider, pulling Jamie’s shoulders inside with a wet, heavy gulp. Jamie groaned, the sensation of being swallowed sending shivers down his spine. But it also made his movements awkward, leaving him unable to jerk his cock the way he had been. He tried, hand fumbling down his stomach to reach himself, but the angle was all wrong, and his arm was half-pinned by Olly’s throat.

    Olly’s eyes flicked down, noticing Jamie’s desperate struggle to keep going, trying to grip himself. With a low, teasing laugh, Olly grabbed Jamie’s hand, immobilizing it in one strong fist.

    "Nah, mate," Olly growled, his voice thick and muffled around the mass of his friend in his mouth. "I'll take over."

    Before Jamie could say anything, Olly’s free hand wrapped around his cock, big fingers gripping tight, stroking in rhythm. The rough skin dragged over Jamie’s slick shaft, and the reaction was instant. Jamie’s hips bucked, but Olly’s grip held him steady, keeping him in place as he swallowed him deeper, mouth working over Jamie’s chest now.

    "F-fuck!" Jamie gasped, chest heaving with labored breaths, his voice strangled as Olly's throat clenched tight around his body. His cock throbbed in Olly’s hand, leaking more with every rough pump.

    Olly didn’t stop. He worked Jamie’s cock harder, teasing the head with his thumb, fingers sliding over every inch with precise, almost possessive motions. Each stroke sent shudders through Jamie’s body, trapped as he was, his head foggy from the heat of Olly’s mouth. The suction was tight, the wet warmth of it seemed to seep into Jamie’s bones, and a loud burp escaped Olly’s lips as Jamie slid deeper into him. "Hah, didn’t think that’d happen so soon,"

    Swallowing again, Olly dragged him deeper, groaning low in his throat, vibrating through Jamie’s whole body. Jamie could only moan, his free hand twitching uselessly at his side as Olly controlled everything—his cock, his body, the very air he breathed.

    The pace quickened, Olly’s grip growing firmer. "Bet you love this, yeah?" Olly muttered, the words almost swallowed along with Jamie as his tongue slid over his chest.

    Olly didn't waste any more time. With a strong swallow, Jamie's waist slipped into his throat, his hips the last to clear the stretch of Olly's lips. His tongue worked its way around Jamie's cock, dragging across the sensitive skin, tasting the precum that dripped down. Jamie's muffled moans were barely audible, but the way his body jerked and twitched inside Olly’s mouth told the full story.

    Olly’s tongue wrapped tighter around Jamie’s dick, pressing it against the roof of his mouth as the pressure built up in Jamie’s core. He couldn’t even move his hips to thrust—Olly had total control. Jamie’s hands tried to push or grab something, but he was swallowed too far down, and the pleasure made his body weak. The wet heat of Olly’s mouth around him sent Jamie spiraling.

    His release came hard. Jamie’s body tensed, a sharp muffled cry breaking through the tight seal of Olly’s lips as he spilled against Olly’s tongue, shaking uncontrollably. Olly swallowed again, slow and deliberate, dragging Jamie’s hips and thighs into his throat, pulling him deeper with each gulp.

    Olly barely slowed down as he worked Jamie’s legs into his mouth, the bulge of his gut growing larger, stretching his shirt and pants as Jamie disappeared. With one final, deep swallow, Olly’s stomach expanded over his thighs, a heavy, round weight settling in his gut. He patted his gut, a belch bubbling up as he sighed in satisfaction. “There it is,” Olly chuckled, wiping his lips.

    Jamie was nothing more than a curled-up mass inside, his form outlined in Olly’s skin as the last of him disappeared. His faint, muffled breaths and weak moans vibrated through Olly’s thick belly, lost in the slow groans of digestion as Olly sat back, feeling the weight of his best friend settle deep inside him.

    Jamie shifted inside Olly's gut, adjusting as much as he could in the cramped, tight space. His breath was heavy, but he was smiling, his voice muffled but still teasing. “No coming back from this, mate,” he muttered, giving the inside of Olly’s stomach a soft nudge with his elbow. “You’ve got me now, gonna digest me nice and slow. Bet your slow-ass metabolism is gonna make this real cozy for the next few hours, huh?”

    Olly chuckled, running a hand over the bulging curve of his belly. He could feel Jamie’s movements, the faint outline of his body pressing against his skin. “Cozy now,” Olly smirked, "but we both know what's coming, don’t we?" He gave his gut a pat, feeling Jamie shift in response. “Enjoy it while you can. By tomorrow, it’s gonna be fucking hell in there.”

    For the first couple of hours, Jamie squirmed gently in the wet heat of Olly’s stomach. The tightness around him wasn’t unbearable, more like an intense hug, the walls squeezing him from all sides. The air was thick, humid, making every breath feel like he was inhaling through a wet cloth, but he still felt his heart pounding with adrenaline. The burn hadn’t started yet, just a faint warmth that spread across his skin as Olly’s gut slowly kicked into gear.

    He could feel every ripple, every small movement of Olly’s body as the big man shifted in his chair or walked around. The rhythmic gurgling of digestion had started, but it was slow, almost soothing at this stage. Jamie felt the pressure building around him, but it wasn’t painful yet—just tight, wet, and hot. He couldn’t move much, his limbs pinned in place, but he didn’t mind. It was strangely calming, the feeling of being completely enveloped, his best mate’s stomach holding him in place like he was meant to be there.

    “Bet it feels real snug right now, huh?” Olly teased, leaning back, his fingers rubbing slow circles over the stretched skin of his belly. “Enjoy it while it lasts, ‘cause once I hit the sack and sleep this off, my body’s gonna go into overdrive. By the time I wake up, you’ll be begging me to let you out. Too bad I won’t be able to hear you.”

    Jamie’s muffled laugh echoed inside Olly’s gut. “Better make it quick, then,” he teased back, the sound of his voice barely audible through the layers of flesh and muscle. “I’m not scared.”

    Olly smirked, giving his stomach a harder slap. “We’ll see about that.”

    The night was slow, suffocating, and unbearably hot. Jamie had started out feeling relatively okay, cramped and squeezed tight in Olly’s stomach, but now that familiar burn had escalated into something far worse. The heat around him intensified, and the gurgling of Olly’s gut had become louder, more aggressive as the night wore on. The stomach walls pressed in tighter, kneading and churning him as if they knew exactly what was happening. The process of digestion was underway, and it was far from kind.

    Jamie gritted his teeth, trying to breathe through the discomfort, but each gasp felt shallow and labored. The thick, acidic air was making it impossible to fill his lungs, and every now and then, a ripple of acid would wash over his body, making him wince. His skin felt raw now, the burn more than just heat—actual pain starting to set in. The sensation was creeping slowly, eating away at him bit by bit.

    In the middle of the night, Olly stirred, groaning as he adjusted in his bed. He lazily rubbed his swollen gut, still bloated with the form of his best mate. Even in his sleep, his body was working overtime, and Jamie could feel it. Olly yawned, letting out a deep, echoing burp, waking up just enough to speak, his voice heavy with sleep and amusement.

    "Still kickin' in there, huh?" he mumbled, patting his gut roughly. "Told ya it’d get worse. And trust me, this is just the start, mate. You’re in for a fucking long ride."

    Jamie tried to speak, but his voice was barely a whisper now, his strength drained by the constant assault of Olly’s digestive system. His words were slurred, muffled beyond recognition as he weakly pushed against the walls of Olly’s stomach. "O-Olly… hurts…"

    But Olly either couldn’t hear him, or didn’t care. He chuckled sleepily, his hand tracing the outline of Jamie’s barely discernible form. “Good. S’pose that’s what you wanted, yeah? Don’t start crying about it now.”

    With a cruel smirk, Olly closed his eyes again, falling back asleep while his stomach continued its relentless work. The acids churned around Jamie, sloshing him about as if he were just another meal, his body slowly breaking down bit by bit.

    By the time the sun rose, Jamie was in agony. His skin felt like it was on fire, and the pressure around him had only increased as Olly’s gut squeezed him tighter with each passing hour. Every breath he took felt like swallowing acid, the air so thick and noxious that it made him want to retch. His body felt heavy, sluggish, like it was dissolving from the inside out.

    Olly woke up slowly, stretching and letting out a deep yawn. He groaned, rubbing his gut with a satisfied smirk. His stomach had shrunk a little, but Jamie’s shape was still evident, though softer now. The hours of digestion had already started to take their toll.

    “Still with me, Jamie?” Olly teased, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. He gave his gut a hard slap, making it jiggle as he sat up in bed. “Figured you'd be mush by now, but I guess you’re still hangin’ on. Can’t say that’ll last much longer, though.”

    Jamie’s muffled voice was barely audible, and when he did speak, it was strained, weak, and almost incoherent. “O-Olly… pl-please…”

    But Olly just laughed, rolling out of bed and standing up, his gut still bulging out in front of him. He ran his hands over the swollen mass, feeling how soft Jamie had become inside. “Please what? Please finish you off quicker? Nah, mate, this is gonna take a while. Gotta let my body do its thing, and trust me, it’s not in a hurry.”

    The day dragged on in unbearable agony for Jamie. The pain was constant now, every inch of his body feeling like it was being dissolved, broken down bit by bit. The acids were relentless, eating away at his flesh, and the tightness of Olly’s stomach only made it worse. It felt like he was being crushed, his bones creaking under the pressure, his skin stinging from the corrosive environment.

    Olly, meanwhile, went about his day with a satisfied smirk. His belly was still heavy, though smaller now as Jamie’s body slowly melted away inside him. Every now and then, he’d give his gut a squeeze, feeling the soft mass that used to be his best friend.

    “Damn, Jamie, you’re really breakin’ down in there, huh?” Olly teased, his tone casual but cruel. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his gut slowly as it gurgled and churned. “Bet it’s hell in there, but you asked for it. Not much left of ya now, but I’m takin’ my time. Gonna enjoy every second of this.”

    Jamie could barely respond. His voice was no more than a faint whisper now, his body too broken down to fight back. All he could do was endure the pain, his mind clouded with the sensation of being slowly dissolved inside Olly’s gut.

    Olly reveled in his control. He’d never felt more powerful than he did now, with Jamie struggling and fading inside him. His massive belly was a constant reminder of the dominance he had over his best friend. Each movement Jamie made was weaker than the last, the once lively body now little more than a mass of pain and suffering, and Olly loved it. He'd give his gut a rough slap from time to time, making it jiggle, then chuckle when he felt Jamie squirm in response.

    "Keep squirming, mate," Olly said with a low growl, his voice thick with amusement. "Not that it’ll do you any good. You're just mush in there now." He leaned back, his gut pressing into his thighs, feeling the slow churn beneath his skin as his stomach worked Jamie down bit by bit. He could almost imagine the flesh melting away, the bones softening, leaving nothing but the faintest outline.

    Inside, Jamie was in sheer agony. His body felt like it was on fire, the acids eating away at him slowly, painfully. Every breath was a battle, the air thick and stinging. He tried to move, to push against the walls of Olly’s stomach, but he had no strength left. His skin burned, every nerve ending lit up with excruciating pain. His muscles ached as they dissolved, the feeling of his body breaking down was unbearable, but he was trapped, helpless inside the unforgiving heat of Olly's belly.

    "Thought you could handle it, huh?" Olly sneered, giving his gut a hard rub. "But you're nothing now. Just food. How's that feel, Jamie? Knowing you're just a lump of meat getting melted away in my stomach." He burped loudly, the sound echoing in the quiet room, followed by the deep gurgle of his gut working away at Jamie's body. "Bet you're regretting it now, huh? Begging me for this. But it’s too late, mate. You're mine."

    Every gurgle, every churn of Olly's stomach was a reminder of his absolute control. He had taken Jamie in, and now he was breaking him down, bit by bit, turning his best mate into nothing more than a mass of digesting flesh. Jamie’s muffled whimpers barely registered to Olly anymore; they were nothing but the last vestiges of a person who had begged for this.

    Olly pressed his hand against his gut, feeling Jamie’s weak movements beneath the surface. “Still kickin’? Guess I’ll let you stew a little longer. Ain’t in any rush to finish you off.” His voice dripped with cruel satisfaction, and he couldn’t help but smirk as he felt Jamie’s form soften further.

    Inside, Jamie was nearing his limit. The pain was constant, his body being slowly consumed by the relentless acids. He wanted to scream, to beg Olly to stop, but his voice was too weak, his body too broken down. All he could do was endure it, praying for the end that he knew was coming, even though Olly seemed determined to make it last as long as possible.

    Over the next few days, Jamie’s body continued to break down. The pain was constant, but his mind had become so foggy that it was hard to even register it fully. He was a mass of barely-there flesh, his body liquefying inside Olly’s stomach, reduced to little more than nutrients.

    Olly’s belly had shrunk considerably, but there was still a faint outline of Jamie left, a reminder of what had once been his best friend. The big man was lazier now, sitting around with his hand resting comfortably on his gut, letting out a low, rumbling burp. A satisfied smirk spread across his face.

    “You’re pretty much gone now, mate,” Olly muttered, giving his belly a rough pat. “Can feel you sloshin’ around in there. Almost finished with ya. Bet you didn’t think it’d take this long, did ya?”

    Jamie’s response was nothing more than a weak, gurgled moan, barely audible through the thick walls of Olly’s stomach.

    Olly chuckled, standing up and giving his gut a final squeeze. “Guess this is it, Jamie. Last day in there. Hope it was worth it, ‘cause once you’re gone, that’s it. No more.”

    And with that, Olly sat back down, letting his body finish the process. His stomach worked slowly, relentlessly, breaking down the last remnants of Jamie over the next several hours. By the time the day was done, Olly’s gut had returned to its normal size, with no trace of his best friend left—just a slight softness where his muscles had once been tight.

    Olly stretched, letting out a satisfied groan as he patted his now-flat belly. “Well, Jamie,” he muttered to himself, “looks like you’re all mine now.”

[urfavoritewriter]

Pipe The Fuck Down

Dylan stretched out on the couch, feeling the weight in his stomach shift as the guy inside squirmed again. His gut jutted out in front of him, swollen and tight, making him look like he’d just downed a whole keg. He rested a hand on his belly and gave it a firm slap, grinning as the guy inside tried to kick back.

“Hey, knock it off, dipshit,” Dylan muttered, rubbing his bulging stomach with his palm. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, so just fuckin’ deal with it.”

The muffled protests inside made Dylan laugh. The guy in his gut, Colby, was a buddy who’d gotten a little too curious about vore—and now? Well, now he was stuck in there, squirming like he thought he had a shot at getting out. Dylan wasn’t having any of it.

“You think fightin’ me’s gonna help, huh?” Dylan teased, his voice dropping low and cocky. “Like you’re gonna fuckin’ crawl your way out or somethin’? Nah, man. You’re in my gut now, and you’re gonna stay there ‘til I say otherwise.”

He could feel Colby pushing against the tight walls of his stomach, making his gut ripple slightly. Dylan gave his belly a harder slap, the sound echoing through the room.

“Keep the fuck down!” he snapped, sounding almost bored with Colby’s struggle. “You’re just makin’ it worse for yourself, dude. Not like I’m lettin’ you out anytime soon.”

Dylan leaned back into the cushions, feeling the familiar stretch of his stomach as Colby fought against the relentless squeeze. It felt good—too good. There was a weird satisfaction in knowing he had a whole person inside him, someone he could control completely. The guy couldn’t even move without Dylan feeling it.

“Man, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” Dylan said with a smirk. “I could’ve digested your ass already. You’d be nothin’ but fat on these fuckin’ thighs.” He slapped his legs for emphasis, laughing at the idea. “But nah, I like havin’ you in there. Nice and snug. Like a big ol’ food baby, except you ain’t gettin’ out, buddy.”

Colby’s muffled voice sounded again, and Dylan could just make out the word “please.” He rolled his eyes, smirking.

“Oh, please?” Dylan mocked, pushing his belly harder, feeling the pressure against Colby. “That’s what you got for me? You’re beggin’ now? Man, I thought you were tougher than that.”

Dylan rubbed his gut slowly, feeling Colby settle down for a second before trying to shift again. “Goddamn, you’re persistent,” he grumbled. “I told you already, you’re not goin’ anywhere. Fuckin’ relax and enjoy it, or I’ll make it worse.”

With that, he let out a loud burp, chuckling as his stomach gurgled in response. “Better get used to hearin’ that, ‘cause you’re gonna be in there a while.”

Colby gave a weak kick, and Dylan grinned, pushing down on his belly again. “Yeah, yeah, go ahead, keep fightin’. I love it when you struggle like that. Feels fuckin’ amazing.”

Dylan shifted his weight on the couch, squeezing his stomach tighter with his arms. “You know, if I really wanted, I could just clench up and crush you in there,” he said, voice dripping with casual cruelty. “You’d feel my abs squeezin’ down on you, tighter and tighter, ‘til you just… pop.”

He grinned, loving the way Colby stilled at that. “That’s what I thought,” Dylan muttered, leaning back and patting his gut. “Just stay the fuck down, man. Maybe I’ll let you out later—maybe.”

His gut groaned loudly, and Dylan gave it a satisfied rub. “Though, gotta say, you’re sittin’ pretty good in there. I might just keep you all to myself for a while longer.”

Colby’s muffled voice tried to say something again, but Dylan just smirked and cut him off with another firm slap to his belly.

“Shut up and stay put. You ain’t goin’ nowhere, bitch.”

[urfavoritewriter]

Leaning into furry content 🐾

Hey!

Just a heads-up (and a request) that I'll be leaning a bit into furry content. I always thought I was a bit of a furry myself, I still enjoy humans and writing them but I also enjoy all the creativity of being a furry. I want to dip my toes in, create my own furry characters, write about them and write about other people's furry characters of all genders and species, etc... And I'm wondering if any of my followers are furries / are into that community too? If you are, please message me if you're willing to show me the ropes of how to get into it! Any socials, any Discord servers, any character creation guides, etc...

[urfavoritewriter]

Howl You Gonna Get Out?

A Teen Wolf story for a lovely user here on Tumblr, thank you for commissioning me!

Content: M/M Vore, Cocky Alpha, Oral Vore, Digestion, Teasing, Humiliation, Alpha Dynamics, Werewolf Vore, Belly Worship, Belly Rubs, Burping, Pred/Prey

    The loft was still a mess. Broken furniture was piled in one corner, the air thick with dust and the lingering scent of werewolf blood. Derek paced back and forth, a faint scowl on his face as he surveyed the damage. The bruise of the past few days still weighed on him, not just physically, but in ways he couldn’t shake. He grabbed a busted chair and tossed it into the trash heap with a growl.

    Scott stood nearby, broom in hand, his eyes following Derek’s movements. He could feel something was off. Hell, he could practically smell it. Derek had been tense, more closed off than usual since the fight with Peter. Not that he was ever an open book, but this? This was different.

    Scott took a deep breath and stepped forward, his voice cutting through the silence. “Okay, seriously, Derek. What the hell happened?”

    Derek’s shoulders stiffened for a second before he continued moving, refusing to meet Scott’s eyes. He didn’t answer right away, just swept a hand through his hair, clearly avoiding the question. Scott wasn’t having it.

    “I’m not leaving until you tell me.” Scott’s tone was firm, but there was a note of concern underlining it, trying to push Derek to open up.

    Derek stopped in his tracks, his back still to Scott. He didn’t turn around immediately, hands clenching at his sides, the tension rolling off him in waves. When he finally did speak, his voice was low, as if admitting it out loud would make it more real.

    “Peter... He did something. Something I didn’t even know was possible.”

    Scott blinked, setting the broom against the wall. “Something like what? Come on, man, what are you talking about?”

    Letting out a breath, Derek turned, locking eyes with Scott for the first time since the question. His eyes were hard, the weight behind his stare heavy. “He... swallowed me, Scott. Whole.”

    Scott just stood there for a second, processing. He thought he misheard him at first. “Wait, what?”

    “He ate me. Digested me. And then... I came back.” The words were clipped, like Derek couldn’t stand the sound of them.

    Scott's expression twisted in disbelief, eyebrows knitting together. “Like—” He motioned with his hands, clearly trying to wrap his head around it. “Like, he literally—?”

    “Yeah.” Derek's voice was sharp now, tinged with frustration. “It wasn’t just some twisted power move. It was real. I felt everything.”

    Scott’s jaw tightened. He took a step closer, shaking his head. “How is that even possible? I’ve never heard of a werewolf doing something like that.”

    Derek shrugged, clearly still grappling with it himself. “Neither have I. But it happened. And if Peter can do it...” He trailed off, the implication heavy in the air.

    Scott muttered, running a hand through his hair, trying to process the idea of Peter—Peter—doing something like that. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

    “I’m still trying to figure it out myself.” Derek’s voice was edged with frustration. He was angry, mostly at himself for not understanding it sooner. “I didn’t even know if I should tell anyone.”

    Scott’s face softened, but only a little. “You should’ve told me, Derek. We’re all in this together. You know that.”

    Derek scoffed, dismissing it with a quick wave of his hand. “Yeah, well, not everything's worth dragging people into.”

    Scott stepped even closer now, his voice firm but laced with concern. “This? Definitely is.”

    For a moment, silence fell between them. Derek’s fists unclenched as he took a slow breath, staring down at the debris around them. Scott kept his eyes on him, trying to get a read on what Derek wasn’t saying.

    “How did you... I mean, how did you come back?” Scott’s voice softened, almost hesitating with the question.

    Derek’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Same way Peter did. Whatever he pulled with Lydia’s banshee powers... it worked on me. Brought me back after he... finished.”

    Scott’s expression twisted again in disgust, but there was something else there. Something curious. “And you... felt everything?”

    “Every second.”

    Scott’s brow furrowed, letting that sink in. Derek could see the gears turning in Scott’s mind, the mix of concern and something else behind his eyes. He could feel the true Alpha processing, and it wasn’t just shock. He was trying to understand it, how it worked. Maybe even something more.

    “God, Derek,” Scott finally muttered. “I don’t even know what to say.”

    Derek’s jaw clenched, shaking his head. “You don’t have to say anything. Just... know it happened. Peter can do it, and I’m sure I’m not the last.”

    Scott didn’t speak for a moment. His eyes darted to Derek, then down at the floor. He wasn’t just listening. He was thinking. Hard. Slowly, he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “You think... I could do it?”

    Derek’s eyes flicked up, catching the shift in Scott’s tone. It was subtle, but it was there. The younger wolf wasn’t asking out of fear. He was curious. Maybe even a little excited. It caught Derek off guard for a second, and he blinked.

    Scott’s voice was softer now, like he was trying to piece it all together. “I mean, if Peter can do it... maybe I can too.” He hesitated, almost as if realizing what he was suggesting, but the curiosity was too strong. “I’ve never even thought about it, but if it’s possible...”

    Derek’s expression hardened. “Scott. You don’t want to go down that road.”

    But Scott didn’t back down. His gaze was locked on Derek’s, eyes slightly narrowed, a spark of something dangerous in them. “What if I can control it?”

    Derek scoffed again, turning away, as if trying to shake off the whole conversation. But Scott wasn’t done. “I’m serious. I mean, I’ve never tried it, but... I am a true Alpha.”

    Derek tensed at the mention of it, turning to face Scott again. His expression was unreadable, but Scott’s curiosity wasn’t fading. It was growing.

    Scott’s gaze hardened, something shifting behind his brown eyes that Derek hadn’t seen before. The younger Alpha stepped closer, closing the gap between them, his stance firm and unyielding. Derek could feel the energy in the air, the tension sparking like static between them. It wasn’t just curiosity anymore. Scott wanted to try it.

    “Scott, I told you—this isn’t something to mess with,” Derek growled, his voice low and dangerous. His body was already tensing, instincts kicking in at the shift in Scott’s demeanor.

    “I’m not messing with it,” Scott replied, his voice firm, his eyes flashing with determination. “I’m trying to understand it.”

    “By doing what, exactly?” Derek’s tone was sharp now, warning clear. “By devouring me?”

    Scott’s gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t back down. “If it’s a power that I have, then I need to know how to control it.”

    Derek shook his head, stepping back. “No, Scott. I’m not letting you turn this into some experiment.”

    But Scott moved faster, grabbing Derek by the arm. His grip was strong, and for a moment, Derek froze. He could see it in Scott’s eyes—he was serious. The tension between them thickened, and before Derek could react, Scott pushed him back, hard.

    “Scott—” Derek snarled, but Scott was already on him.

    They collided with a resounding crash, the force of their bodies slamming into the concrete floor of the loft. Derek's muscles tensed as he pushed against Scott’s hold, throwing him off with a snarl. The two Alphas circled each other, the air around them humming with the energy of their heightened strength.

    “You’re not doing this,” Derek growled, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip. His eyes flared crimson, fangs bared, ready for whatever Scott had in mind. “Not after everything I just told you.”

    Scott wasn’t backing down. His eyes glowed a deep red, the unmistakable fire of a true Alpha burning behind them. “I need to understand it, Derek. And if I can control it, I’ll be stronger. You know that.”

    Before Derek could respond, Scott lunged again. They locked in a brief struggle, muscles straining as they grappled with each other’s strength. Derek managed to twist out of Scott’s hold, slamming him against the wall, but Scott wasn’t about to give up. He kicked out, sending Derek stumbling back, only to charge forward again.

    Derek growled, fury flaring. “You’re doing this after I trusted you with it?”

    Scott didn’t answer. Instead, he went for Derek’s legs, sweeping him to the ground with a quick, brutal move. Before Derek could recover, Scott was on top of him, pinning him down with a strength that surprised even him.

    “Scott—get off!” Derek snarled, struggling beneath him. But Scott’s grip was too strong. The true Alpha’s power was coursing through him now, and he was too far gone to back down. His breathing was heavy, his muscles tensed as he looked down at Derek, the decision already made in his mind.

    “I'm sorry, Derek,” Scott muttered, his voice softer but laced with resolve. “I have to know.”

    And then, before Derek could react, Scott’s mouth opened impossibly wide. His lips stretched, his jaw unhinging as the first taste of the power hit him like a wave. Derek’s eyes widened in shock, but before he could even get a word out, Scott shoved his head inside his mouth.

    “SC—!” Derek’s shout was immediately cut off, muffled as his head disappeared into the slick, tight confines of Scott’s throat. The wet, suffocating heat surrounded him instantly, and his muffled voice came through weak and distorted.

    “Mmmph—mmmnghh!”

    Scott groaned, feeling the weight of Derek’s head as it slid further down. His throat bulged, struggling slightly with the size, but the power of the true Alpha surged through him, making it easier than he’d thought. His hands gripped Derek’s shoulders, guiding him further in as he swallowed.

    Derek’s muffled protests grew louder as Scott’s throat muscles squeezed tightly around his face. “Mmmph—Scfhh, shtop!” His voice was desperate, but each word was swallowed by the tight, unrelenting grip of Scott’s throat.

    Scott grunted as he took more of Derek in, his body working in rhythm with the overwhelming power pushing him forward. His muscles flexed, pulling Derek deeper, the taste of his skin and the weight of his body filling Scott’s senses. His hands slid down Derek’s chest, fingers gripping tightly as he dragged him further inside.

    Derek’s chest and arms were the next to go, disappearing into the slick cavern of Scott’s throat. His struggles weakened as the tight, wet pressure intensified, his body being swallowed inch by inch. The heat inside Scott’s body was stifling, the crushing force of his muscles squeezing the air out of Derek’s lungs.

    “Shcfott...” Derek’s voice was barely audible now, his words drowned out by the wet, rhythmic gulping of Scott’s throat. His legs kicked weakly, but Scott was relentless. His hands gripped Derek’s hips, pulling him further in, swallowing down his torso with a low, satisfied groan.

    Scott’s throat bulged, stretching to accommodate Derek’s broad shoulders and chest as they slid down, his stomach expanding with the weight of his prey. The heat and pressure were intense, but Scott couldn’t stop. He could feel the power surging through him, stronger with every gulp, his instincts driving him to take more.

    “Mmm—ffuck...” Scott grunted around Derek’s body, his voice muffled by the weight of his meal. He could feel Derek’s hips against his lips now, the last part of him still outside. With one final, powerful gulp, Scott took the rest of Derek inside, his lips closing around his waist as his throat muscles squeezed tight.

    Derek’s legs kicked weakly as Scott swallowed him down, his muffled protests growing fainter with every second. “Nnngh—Scfhhh...” His words were lost, his body slipping further into the suffocating darkness of Scott’s stomach.

    With a final, deep swallow, Scott’s throat bulged one last time as Derek’s hips disappeared inside, his legs slipping down into the tight, wet confines of Scott’s stomach. Scott let out a low, satisfied groan as he felt Derek’s entire body settle inside him, his belly swelling with the weight.

    He stood there for a moment, panting, his hands resting on his now swollen stomach as he felt Derek squirming weakly inside. The pressure was intense, the weight filling him completely. Scott’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his mind spinning with the realization of what he had just done.

    “Fuck...” Scott muttered, running a hand over the bulging curve of his belly. “Derek... I didn’t think it’d feel this... good.”

    Scott let out a deep, unexpected burp, his hand reflexively patting his swollen belly. “Ughhh, damn, Derek... I gotta say, you taste way better than I thought,” he muttered, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The teasing was new for him, but it came naturally, fueled by the rush of power surging through him.

    Inside, Derek groaned, the cramped pressure making it hard to move. “Scott... what the hell...?” His voice was rough, strained, but clearer now that the tight grip of Scott’s throat had released him.

    Scott chuckled, rubbing the taut surface of his stomach. "Yeah, I’m not sure what I expected, but you’re really sitting in there perfectly, Derek." He grinned, pressing down on a part of his belly where he could feel Derek’s squirming. “I could show you off right now... walk around Beacon Hills, let everyone see just how well you fit inside me."

    Derek’s response was a low, irritated growl, his body shifting uncomfortably inside Scott. “You better not...” he snapped, though his words held less bite given the awkwardness of his position.

    Scott let out another casual burp, smirking. "Oh, come on... I mean, think about it, Derek. You’re literally filling me up. I’ve never felt this full... or this strong." His fingers traced over his bulging gut. "Bet even Peter’s gonna be jealous when he finds out you’re my meal now."

    Derek pushed against the slick walls surrounding him, his movements sluggish but forceful. “You are going to regret this.”

    Scott laughed, the sound reverberating around Derek. “Maybe. But right now? I’m just enjoying the fact that I’ve got the great Derek Hale tucked away in my gut. Feels like I could keep you there all the damn time.”

    The morning sun was already high when Scott strode into the high school parking lot, his steps heavy and deliberate. His usually lean and athletic frame now bulged with the unmistakable shape of Derek inside his belly, pushing out his shirt in a way that couldn’t be hidden, no matter how hard Scott might have tried. But hiding it wasn’t on his mind at all.

    In fact, the True Alpha had never looked prouder. His stomach was massive—every inch of Derek Hale pressing visibly against Scott's skin. The outline of Derek’s arms, his legs, even the curve of his back stretched against Scott’s midsection, making it clear that Scott had swallowed someone just as big as he was.

    He gave his rounded gut a solid pat and stifled a burp, though a small rumble still escaped his lips.

    "Urrp... Sorry, Derek," Scott muttered with a smirk. “Guess you’re really settling in there.”

    There was a muffled groan from deep within him, but Scott only grinned wider. He couldn’t help but feel a thrill at how heavy Derek made him feel, each step making his stomach jiggle just slightly with the weight of his former ally tucked away inside. He could already imagine the reactions he’d get when people noticed.

    The walk through the front entrance was slow but confident, and as soon as Scott hit the halls, heads turned. Everyone noticed. How could they not? It wasn’t every day the True Alpha walked into school with a massive belly that screamed something out of the ordinary had happened.

    Scott took his time, letting the eyes follow him, enjoying the whispers. He could hear their confusion, their awe. A couple of the students who’d been around long enough to know about the supernatural world seemed to recognize the situation right away, but the others were just plain stunned.

    "Whoa... what the hell happened to McCall?" someone muttered near the lockers.

    Scott didn't miss a beat, just gave his belly another proud slap and shot the guy a wink. "Don’t worry, just had a big meal this morning."

    Inside, Derek shifted uncomfortably. "Scott... this isn’t funny," his voice was muffled but clear enough for Scott to hear.

    “Oh, lighten up, man. You look good in there,” Scott teased, grinning as he ran a hand along the side of his gut, tracing the outline of Derek’s trapped body. “Besides, I figured I’d show everyone how good my diet is going.”

    He paused near his locker, resting his hand on the cool metal as he stretched his back, emphasizing the bulge even more. "How you holding up in there? Comfortable?"

    Derek let out a strained groan, shifting against the tight confines of Scott’s stomach. "Just let me out already," he muttered, though there was no fight left in his voice. It was clear Scott had total control now.

    Scott chuckled. “Not yet. I think you’re starting to grow on me… literally.”

    Before he could tease Derek any further, Scott felt a familiar presence behind him. He turned his head to see Liam standing nearby, eyes wide as he took in the size of his Alpha’s belly.

    Liam blinked, his eyes darting between Scott’s face and his massive gut. “That’s… that’s Derek in there?”

    “Uh… Scott… what the hell?” Liam asked, his voice tinged with awe and confusion, his gaze locked on the massive bulge in Scott’s middle.

    Scott grinned, leaning casually against the lockers, his swollen gut jutting out in front of him. “Just trying something new,” he teased, giving his belly a playful pat. “Derek here decided he’d make a nice, hard-to-digest leftover dinner.”

    Liam’s eyes widened in disbelief, his focus shifting between Scott’s face and the large, shifting mass of Derek inside him. He blinked, unsure if he should laugh or back away. “Wait… that’s Derek in there?” he asked, pointing at Scott’s gut.

    Scott smirked, pushing himself off the lockers and taking a slow step toward Liam, making sure his belly swayed with each movement. “Oh yeah, he’s in there alright. Settling in nicely, too.” He pushed his gut out further, the outline of Derek’s body pressing against the fabric of his shirt. "You wanna feel?" Scott’s voice dripped with playful arrogance.

    Liam hesitated but nodded. “Uh... yeah. Sure.”

    Scott closed the distance quickly, stepping forward and pushing his bulging stomach right up against Liam, effectively pinning him between the locker and the mass of Derek’s body. Liam let out a surprised grunt as Scott’s heavy gut pressed into him, the solid weight of Derek making the experience overwhelming. Scott chuckled, his chest vibrating as he pushed a little harder, ensuring Liam could feel every part of his massive belly.

    “You feel that?” Scott teased, his voice low and smug. “That’s Derek in there. Every inch of him. Pretty crazy, huh?”

    Liam’s hands tentatively found their way to Scott’s sides, his fingers brushing over the taut skin stretched across Scott’s belly. The sensation of Derek squirming slightly inside made Liam’s breath hitch. He pressed his palms more firmly against the bulge, feeling the hard outlines of Derek’s trapped body. “Holy... this is insane,” Liam muttered under his breath, wide-eyed as he felt Derek shift inside Scott’s belly. “He’s... really in there.”

    Scott laughed, the sound deep and satisfied. “Yeah, he is. And I’ve gotta say... he fits perfectly.” He gave his gut a small shake, causing Derek to grunt from within. “I think Derek’s finally found his place, don’t you?”

    Liam couldn’t help but chuckle nervously, still overwhelmed by the situation. “I mean... yeah, if his place is inside you.” He pressed his hand more firmly against the bulging mass, feeling the subtle movement of Derek’s body. “Does it hurt him?”

    Scott shrugged, pushing his belly even closer to Liam, making it impossible for his Beta to escape the press of Derek’s form. “Not really... at least, not too much.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s just getting used to being part of me.”

    Inside, Derek’s voice was muffled but still audible. “Scott... you’re pushing too hard, damn it.”

    Scott laughed again, louder this time. “Come on, Derek, you can handle it. I’m just giving Liam the full experience.” He pressed his belly into Liam again, making the Beta squirm slightly as he was sandwiched between Scott and the locker.

    “You should feel how tight it is in there,” Scott said, patting his gut with one hand while keeping Liam trapped with the other. “I’ve never felt so full. You really make me look good, Derek.”

    Liam’s hand slipped lower, tracing the outline of Derek’s legs against Scott’s belly. He shook his head in disbelief. “Dude... this is nuts.”

    Scott grinned, stepping back slightly to give Liam some room to breathe, though he kept his belly prominent. “You think it’s crazy from out here? Imagine what Derek’s going through inside.”

    Another muffled groan came from within, and Scott chuckled. He wanted to tease about how much Derek probably wished he didn’t tell him about what happened with Peter, but realized implying it in front of Liam would breach his trust; He confided in him, and he had to at least respect that.

    Scott’s hands moved confidently across his swollen belly, rubbing in slow circles, pressing into the shapes of Derek’s body just beneath the surface. Every touch seemed to make Derek squirm, his form pushing outward as Scott toyed with him. "I gotta admit,” Scott said, a teasing edge to his voice, “he’s a lot more manageable like this. No more brooding or running off on his own.”

    Liam smirked, now more at ease with the bizarre situation. “So... what are you gonna do with him?”

    Scott leaned back against the locker, still rubbing his belly in lazy circles. “Not sure yet,” he replied with a wicked grin. “But for now? I think I’ll just enjoy showing him off.” He let out a small burp, covering his mouth with his hand before smirking at Liam. “Guess that’s Derek’s way of saying hi.”

    Inside, Derek shifted again, and Scott felt his movements slow. He knew Derek was starting to accept his place, even if he wasn’t happy about it. But Scott didn’t mind. After all, he had Derek exactly where he wanted him—pressed tight inside his gut, showing the world just who was in control.

    Scott grinned as he pulled out his phone, thumbing the camera open. He angled it to capture his enormous belly, with Derek’s outline clearly visible beneath the stretched fabric. But that wasn’t enough—Scott wanted the perfect shot. He glanced at Liam, still standing awkwardly by the lockers.

    “Liam,” Scott said, stepping closer. “Hold still for a sec.”

    Liam barely had time to react before Scott pressed his gut right up against him, sandwiching him tightly between his massive, squirming belly and the cold metal lockers. “Whoa—what are you doing?” Liam stammered, face turning bright red as he felt the pressure of Scott’s stomach pinning him in place.

    Scott laughed softly, his tone light. “Just getting a picture,” he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Trust me, you’ll want to see this later.”

    Liam blinked, his breath caught in his throat as Scott’s belly shifted slightly, the weight of Derek pressing into him. “A picture? For who?”

    Scott didn’t answer right away, just snapped the shot—Derek’s struggling form clearly outlined, Liam trapped against the lockers, his face a mix of confusion and embarrassment. Perfect.

    As he typed the message, Liam glanced at the phone again. “Uh, who’s that for?” His tone was curious, but he was still flustered from the situation.

    Scott smirked, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed.

    "Derek’s mine now. Thought you should know. You can back off."

    He sent the message with a casual swipe before finally meeting Liam’s eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” Scott said, patting his gut with a teasing smile. “Just… taking care of some things.”

    Liam frowned, obviously wanting to ask more, but before he could, Scott gave his belly a firm rub, feeling Derek shift inside. “Let’s just say Derek’s got other plans now.”

    Liam, still a bit red, nodded slowly. “O-okay... if you say so.”

[urfavoritewriter]

The Dare

Another commission for another lovely user, hope you all enjoy reading this one! Thank you for commissioning me, your support means a lot

Content: M/M Vore, Oral Vore, Digestion, Fatal Vore, Casual Vore, Bulge Play, Belly Teasing, Public Digestion, Pred Prey Dynamics, Taunting, Reluctant Prey, Friends to Food, Intoxicated Vore, Humiliation, Sadistic Pred, Burping, Struggle Play

“Alright, losers, let’s spice this shit up,” Dylan declared, kicking an empty can across the room. “What’s the dumbest thing you’d do for fifty bucks?” His eyes flicked to Corey, sprawled out on the couch with his shirt half off and a glazed look in his eyes.

Corey looked like he hadn’t a clue where he was, let alone what Dylan just asked. Dylan rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Hunter, who was scrolling through his phone, barely giving a shit about the conversation.

“Come on, Hunter, bet you wouldn’t down that entire bottle of hot sauce. I’ll throw in an extra twenty if you don’t puke.”

Hunter snorted, glancing up just long enough to roll his eyes. “Piss off, man. I’m not fucking my guts up for some chump change.”

Dylan shrugged, undeterred. “Alright, fine. What about you, Brad? Bet you wouldn’t jump off the roof into the pool.”

Brad laughed, shaking his head. “Not breaking my neck for your entertainment, asshole.”

That’s when Dylan’s eyes landed on Colby, who had been quietly sipping his beer, clearly trying to stay out of whatever dumb shit Dylan was about to pull. Dylan’s grin widened, and he slapped Colby’s back hard enough to make him choke on his drink.

“How about you, Colby? You’re usually up for anything when you’ve had a few.”

Colby coughed, wiping his mouth as he shot Dylan a wary look. “What stupid shit do you have in mind this time?”

Dylan leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper loud enough for everyone to hear. “How about I swallow you whole? Bet you wouldn’t be able to handle being in there. Fifty bucks says you’ll wuss out.”

Colby blinked, caught between thinking this was some kind of joke and the hazy blur of too many beers. “Wait, what the fuck did you just say?”

Dylan’s smirk widened. “You heard me. I mean, look at you. You’ve always been kinda small, right? Bet you’d slide down real easy. No guts, no glory, huh?”

The other guys hooted and hollered, egging Colby on as he stared at Dylan, half in disbelief and half in something else—a fucked-up mix of curiosity and whatever liquid courage he’d chugged down. Colby’s cheeks flushed, either from the booze or the sudden spotlight Dylan had just thrown on him.

“Dude, you’re outta your mind,” Colby scoffed, trying to laugh it off. “That’s some freaky-ass shit.”

“Aw, come on,” Dylan taunted, leaning back with his arms behind his head like he’d already won. “What’s the matter? Too chicken? Don’t worry, I won’t even digest you… this time.”

The room erupted in laughter, the jeers and catcalls bouncing off the walls, making Colby feel like he was shrinking even further into the worn-out cushions of the couch. Dylan was loving every second of it, the way Colby squirmed under the scrutiny, trying to figure out if Dylan was serious or just fucking with him like always.

Colby glanced around at the expectant faces, his friends all watching, waiting. The heat of their attention made his skin itch, his nerves buzzing with the need to prove them wrong. Dylan’s smirk was still plastered on his face, that arrogant look that made Colby’s blood boil, daring him to do something about it.

Colby set his beer down with a thud, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to spilling. “Fuck it,” he muttered, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he was about to do this. “You’re on, asshole. But if you fucking digest me, I swear to God, I’m haunting your ass.”

Dylan laughed, deep and loud, clapping his hands together like he’d just scored the winning touchdown. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. Get ready, ‘cause once you’re in, there’s no going back.”

He cracked his neck and rubbed his hands together, his eyes sparkling with the kind of excitement that made Colby’s stomach flip. Without another word, Dylan grabbed Colby by the shirt, yanking him closer and giving him a once-over like he was sizing up his next meal.

“Hope you’re flexible,” Dylan said, half-joking, half-serious as he popped his jaw, opening his mouth wide. “You’re about to find out what it’s like to be lunch.”

Colby’s heart pounded in his chest, the reality of the situation sinking in as he felt the heat of Dylan’s breath wash over him. He could see the slick, wet darkness of Dylan’s throat, the muscles flexing in anticipation. It was fucked up. It was insane. But with all eyes on him and Dylan’s grip like a vice on his shirt, Colby didn’t see any way out of this without looking like a total bitch.

With one last, shaky breath, Colby braced himself, closing his eyes as Dylan’s mouth stretched impossibly wide, the wet, slick heat of it already pulling him in.

“Bon appétit, bitch,” Dylan mumbled around him, the sound muffled and warped as he took the first gulp, Colby’s head slipping past his lips and into the tight, constricting tunnel of his throat.

Colby’s protests were cut short as Dylan’s throat muscles clamped down, dragging him further into the darkness. He could feel the squeeze around his shoulders, the slick walls pressing in on all sides. His muffled curses were lost in the gurgle and groan of Dylan’s gut preparing to make room for him.

“Holy shit, dude, he’s actually doing it,” Brad laughed, watching in disbelief as Dylan’s throat bulged with Colby’s form, his belly already starting to swell as more of Colby was swallowed down.

Dylan just grunted, his focus on the task at hand, every swallow pulling more of Colby into the tight confines of his expanding gut. He could feel Colby squirming, the occasional kick or push against the walls of his throat, but Dylan just grinned around his meal, taking his time, enjoying every second of Colby’s reluctant descent.

Colby tried to shout, to tell Dylan this was enough, but every attempt was drowned out by the wet, relentless pull of Dylan’s throat. The tightness around him grew more oppressive, the air growing thinner as Dylan’s grip on his waist tightened, shoving him further down.

“Fuck, man, this is... this is nuts,” Colby gasped, his voice barely audible as his chest was squeezed tight, his head now fully lodged in the cavern of Dylan’s stomach.

Dylan paused, panting slightly, his tongue flicking over his lips as he glanced down at the bulge in his gut. He rubbed a hand over the swollen mass, chuckling as he felt Colby’s movements slow, the reality of his situation sinking in.

“See, told you I could do it,” Dylan said, a little breathless but still smug as hell. “Guess you’re stuck with me now, huh?”

Colby’s muffled response was lost, but Dylan didn’t care. He let out a deep belch, the sound echoing in the small room and drawing more laughter from the guys around him.

“Damn, bro, you taste even better than you look,” Dylan teased, giving his belly a satisfied pat as he leaned back, basking in the attention and the feel of Colby squirming inside him.

The night was still young, and with Colby tucked away in Dylan’s gut, it looked like things were just getting started.

Dylan leaned back on the couch, his belly swollen and tight, Colby squirming visibly inside. He grinned, running his hand over the rounded curve of his gut as his friends watched, half in awe and half in disbelief. Brad, Hunter, and Corey were all gathered around, beers in hand, leaning in close to get a better look at the human-sized meal Dylan had just swallowed whole.

"Fuck, man, you really did it," Hunter said, shaking his head with a laugh. He leaned down, pressing his ear against Dylan’s bloated stomach, listening to the muffled, frantic noises coming from within. “Holy shit, dude, I can hear him in there. He’s freaking out.”

Dylan burped loudly, patting his gut as it gurgled loudly in response. "Yeah, he’s not loving it too much," Dylan said, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. "But hey, a bet’s a bet, right? Colby knew what he was signing up for."

Inside, Colby was struggling, his arms and legs pushing uselessly against the walls of Dylan’s stomach. The tight, humid space squeezed him from all sides, every movement met with the relentless churn of digestive juices starting to bubble up around him. He could feel the heat rising, the stinging burn of acid nipping at his skin, but his screams were drowned out by the thick, sloshing noise of Dylan’s gut getting to work.

"Bro, you gotta let me out! This shit ain’t funny anymore!" Colby’s muffled voice echoed from inside, barely audible but panicked, his words broken up by gasps as the air grew thinner and the pressure around him increased.

Dylan just laughed, a deep, hearty sound that made his gut ripple. "Nah, man, you’re staying put. We got a long night ahead of us, and I’ve got a feeling you’re gonna make it a real good time." He drummed his fingers on his belly, feeling Colby’s struggles intensify with every mocking pat.

Brad, ever the instigator, leaned in closer, tapping on Dylan’s gut like it was a bongo drum. “Yo, Colby, how’s the view in there?” he called, laughing when the only response was a muffled yell and a frantic kick that made Dylan burp again.

“Jesus, that’s fucking wild,” Corey said, taking a swig of his beer and shaking his head. “What’s it feel like, Dyl? Dude kicking around in there like he’s trying to get out?”

Dylan shrugged, leaning back with a cocky grin. “Feels kinda good, actually. Like a nice belly rub, just on the inside. Plus, dude’s got some fight in him—keeps things interesting, you know?”

Hunter pressed his hand against the side of Dylan’s belly, feeling the vibrations of Colby’s muffled screams. “Shit, man, I can feel him shouting! That’s insane.” He laughed, pulling back and giving Dylan a light shove. “You’re fucking twisted, dude.”

Dylan just smirked, giving his gut another pat. “Nah, he’s fine. Just giving him the full experience. He wanted to know what it’s like, right? Well, this is it. No turning back now.”

Colby’s struggles grew more desperate, his fists slamming against the slick, fleshy walls, but it was like trying to punch through quicksand. The heat was overwhelming, the acid burning at his skin, and every gulp of air he managed to take was heavy with the sickly-sweet stench of Dylan’s stomach.

“Let me out, you prick!” Colby screamed, his voice cracking as the acids started to rise, creeping up his chest and stinging his throat. But Dylan only burped again, louder this time, a deep, satisfied rumble that shook Colby to his core.

Brad slapped Dylan’s gut playfully, grinning as he felt the resistance from within. “How long you think he’s got in there before he’s just soup?”

Dylan shrugged, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “Couple hours, maybe? I dunno, depends on how hard he fights it. But hey, I’m in no rush. Got all night to let him stew.”

Hunter leaned in close, putting his ear against Dylan’s belly again, listening intently. “Dude, he’s still going at it. Bet he thought he’d be out by now, huh?”

Dylan chuckled, giving his gut a squeeze. “Yeah, well, guess he didn’t realize just how serious I was. Should’ve known better than to take me up on that dare.”

The room was filled with laughter, the guys all taking turns poking and prodding at Dylan’s belly, teasing Colby as he writhed and squirmed inside, his muffled screams growing weaker by the minute. Dylan relished every second of it, the way his friends were eating it up, the feel of Colby’s futile resistance slowly fading.

As the hours dragged on, Dylan’s gut began to settle, the frantic movements within slowing to a sluggish, tired squirm. The room had grown quieter, the initial shock and excitement giving way to a more subdued atmosphere as the reality of Colby’s situation set in. Dylan’s stomach continued its relentless work, the gurgling sounds deepening as the acids took hold, breaking down their meal in slow, merciless increments.

Colby’s voice was barely a whisper now, a faint, trembling plea that barely registered above the churning noise. “Please… let me out…” But Dylan only sighed, a look of bored indifference crossing his face as he gave his gut one last pat.

“Sorry, Colbs, but this is the end of the line,” Dylan said, his tone casual, almost dismissive. “Should’ve known better than to play this game with me. You’re in too deep now.”

He leaned back, closing his eyes as he let his body relax, the weight of Colby inside him a comforting pressure that made him feel full and satisfied. Brad, Hunter, and Corey watched, a mix of fascination and horror on their faces as they listened to the last, fading sounds of Colby’s struggle.

Dylan let out a long, slow burp, the taste of beer and pizza mingling with the faint hint of Colby’s essence, a final reminder of the poor guy’s fate. He smirked, rubbing his belly as the last of Colby’s movements ceased, the once frantic squirming now reduced to a sluggish, defeated gurgle.

“Guess he finally gave up,” Dylan muttered, his voice dripping with casual cruelty. “Gotta admit, he lasted longer than I thought he would. Props to him.”

Hunter nodded, raising his beer in a mock toast. “To Colby, the dumbass who dared to be dinner.”

Brad and Corey joined in, clinking their cans with Hunter’s, laughter bubbling up again as they celebrated their friend’s fucked-up victory. Dylan just chuckled, savoring the lingering warmth in his gut, the knowledge that he’d won, that Colby was now just another meal, digesting away inside him.

“Rest in pieces, buddy,” Dylan said, his voice soft, almost fond as he gave his belly one last, affectionate rub. “You were a hell of a dare.”

And with that, he leaned back, letting the night carry on around him, the laughter of his friends mingling with the steady, rhythmic churn of his gut as it went to work, turning Colby from friend to fodder in the span of a single, unforgettable evening.

[urfavoritewriter]

When will you write something new please i love your stories

I'm working on many stories right now, both personal and commissions, and I think you'll enjoy both once I post them!