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softnsmole · 6 months

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(Original work by me, @softnsmole)

(contains size difference, fearplay, soft oral v°re, sexual content)

Til gingerly stepped in to the bath, finally having gotten the perfect temperature. Her eyes quickly flicked towards Mole, making sure he was still perched safely in his little inflatable flamingo floaty before lowering herself in to the sparkly, bubbly water.

"It's always magnificent, watching you step in to the bath," Mole called up to her, his grip on the flamingoes neck tightening with a squeak as Til's arrival upset the water. Little waves threatened to bowl it over completely, but the bubbles on either side bolstered it enough that he was able to stabilize. A silly grin, bordering on a smirk, plastered Mole's face as Til rolled her eyes and smiled.

"You're a dork," Til replied, a hand reaching under the flamingo floaty to hold it steady. She could see the shoulders of her tiny partner relax a little more, his vice grip around the poor flamingo finally loosening with a clipped squeak. He exhaled gratefully, a small, adorable sound that made the corner of Til's lips twitch in amusement. She settled further in to the bath, gently drawing the flamingo towards her as she lay down, her face nearly in the water and eyes level with Mole.

"Goddesses Gardens, how did I end up with such a handsome little bath toy?" Til teased, twitching her eyebrow in the way she knew would make her bathing partner react. She looked him up and down, idly swirling her free hand in the pink and blue shimmering water. Mole remained locked to her blue, blue eyes and shivered involuntarily. Til could see little goosebumps feathering across his opal skin. "Oh, dear," she murmured, "you look cold. Here..."

She slowly started pulling the flamingo down, into the bathwater. A little bit started spilling over the sides, just enough for Mole to slip on and stumble back, landing flat on his back with his feet sticking straight up in the air, arms still flailing for grip even though he had nothing to grab on to. Til chuckled at his gasp and subsequent huff of indignation.

"Hey!"

Til pulled her other hand out of the water, reaching for Mole. His indignation melted away as he felt warm, wet fingers wrap around him and pick him up gently. Til smiled softly as he relaxed in to her hand, arms loosely wrapped around her thumb.

"Sorry, love. You're just magnificent, the way you get in the bath."

He responded with a loose snort, recognising his ability to be graceful was definitely limited in situations like this. Taking a deep breath, he held Til's thumb tighter, reveling in the warmth and safety. He exhaled, feeling the days stress leave him and trickle down Til's hand with the dripping bathwater. Idly tracing circles on his back with her middle finger, she brought him closer to her chest, cupping her other hand around him and gently lowering both hands in the water, sloping them and making a sort of basin shape. She stopped when the warm, shimmery water was to his thighs. She could see his skin flushing as the pleasant change in temperature painted itself across his small body.

He relaxed further, letting himself slip in to the warm water, sighing deeply. Til opened her hands, guiding him to settle on her submerged chest, just above her belly. They lay like that for a while, enjoying the warm water and soft scents of the bath bomb swirling around them, the ambient spice of an incense stick hovering assertively in the background.

Mole dozed, eyes half lidded as Til continued tracing up and down his arm with a finger. She loved looking at him, admiring all his perfect little features. His scars and tattoos, the small lines of definition in his chin and cheeks, his tiny but deft hands. She shifted, settling herself again, and a low growl tremored through the bathwater. A blush was already blooming on Til's face by the time Mole opened one brown eye and peered up at her.

"You forgot bath snacks again, didn't you?" Mole teased. He was a little disappointed in all honesty; he had never liked the idea of snacks in the bath, but the first time Til dumped mini m&ms in a bowl with him and floated the bowl in the bathtub like a little candy island... How could he not be hooked? Til just huffed a little, biting her lip, annoyed at herself. Mole shifted his body against her stomach, pushing his feet in to it gently and illiciting another growl.

"Isn't it so interesting how the water seems to make it louder?" Mole asked innocently. Til could have sworn he was batting his eyelashes at her.

My boyfriend's a bath hussy, she thought to herself. But then a devious thought crossed her mind.

"Yeah... I wonder if it sounds even louder from in the water," she mused, hoping to appeal to his curious side. He thought for a second, trying to come up with how that could work, and was completely unprepared for Til quickly curling her fingers back around him and lifting him out of the water, making him jump and squirm a little.

"Hey! Hey, Til, kinda tight there," Mole yelped a little, trying not to sound as startled as he was. Til relaxed her grip a little, but not enough for him to wriggle away. He pushed out as hard as he could, trying to squeeze at least an arm free. He was panting at that point; he knew there was no earthly way he could ever be strong enough to push her hand open, but it didn't stop him from trying. It was all in good fun anyway, he thought. Right?

Finally, either through sheer luck or Til's taking pity on him, he was able to pop his left arm free between two of her fingers.

"Oh, what's this here for? Offering to give me a hand?" Til crooned, slowly opening her mouth and introducing his hand to the soft, warm darkness.

He could feel each of her tastebuds flitting over his skin like slickened stones, the bumpy surface pliant under his fingers. It slowly started creeping up his arm, approaching his elbow, wet warmth bleeding outward from everywhere her tongue touched. His face flushed crimson, a mix of sheer heat, a little desire, and fear partly to blame. He gasped as she pulled the rest of his arm in, her lips now hovering just inches from his face as she sucked gently on his forearm, and he felt a different sensation, one that felt less like a squeeze and more like a-

*glk*

In one smooth motion, he jerked his hand back right as Til swallowed. He felt the very top of her throat grasp at his fingers as he frantically tried pulling his arm away from her, feeling her soft palate and the back of her tongue teasing his fingertips, squeezing around them just enough to remind him he couldn't move without her cooperation. And she wasn't feeling in a very cooperative mood.

She pulled away from him, just enough that she could keep his hand within reach of her tongue and mouth and still look at him. He spluttered, lost for words. Had it been five minutes or five seconds? He jumped a little as a soft "mmmm" vibrated around his fingers, still pressed involuntarily in to her tongue. She finally relented, releasing him.

"Sorry, little Mo, you just taste so *good*." She smirked. His heart dropped. She only called him that when...

He didn't have time to finish the thought before her tongue was back, this time pressing at his feet. She exhaled on him, her warm breath causing him to shudder, all his tiny hairs standing on end. He gasped, wrapping his free arm tightly around her finger as she slowly dragged her tongue up his legs, stopping just short of his pelvis. He saw the corner of her lips turn up in a smile as he shivered under her tongue, grasping her finger tightly. She hummed softly, though he was unsure if that was because he held her tighter or she liked the way he tasted.

"Even better," she murmured, sultry tone dripping from her words. "You're wet..."

Mole gasped as her tongue returned, licking up further, teasing across his untrimmed mound, the wet heat sinking down. He was wet, probably had been before the bath in all honesty. But the constantly shifting, silky sensation of Til's wandering tongue commanded his attention as it inquisitively prodded him between the legs. With a jagged exhale, he let her in.

Warmth shifted to heat, and soon her tongue had snaked fully between his legs and scooped him up. Mole slipped on the slick surface, unable to grab hold of anything to brace himself as he melted in to her. Alarm bells rang distantly in the back of his mind, his body distracted by the shifting sensations everywhere and the mixed sense of safety and arousal dulling his sense of danger. Til tucked his feet in to her lips and slowly started sucking his legs in, tongue teasingly rubbing along the back of his neck, distracting him further. He bit back a moan as his hips met her lips.

Til chuckled lowly, holding Moles tiny hand between her fingers and gently squeezing. She exhaled another warm breath over him, enjoying his subsequent shudder and the smallest of lewd noises as she deliberately pressed her lips in to his hip bones, firmly pressing her tongue against his back. He tasted so *good* when he let her have him, she thought. But he was in this position because he was being punished, and Til mused that he was perhaps enjoying this a little too much.

Mole was snapped harshly out of his stupor by the realisation he was in far deeper than he thought, just in time for the back of Til's throat to coil up and close around his ankles.

"Til, what's going on-"

*gLK*

Slick, rippling muscles rolled up around his feet, gripping them frighteningly tight in their spongy but strong embrace. He tried to squirm free, but Til had her lips firmly pressed around his middle, tongue flexing beneath him as if to remind him who was in charge. He only slipped in a few inches, but it had cost him enough ground that he was beginning to feel more afraid than aroused. He realised she was holding one of his hands and pressed against her face with his free one, knowing he wasn't strong enough to stop her if she really wanted to...

"Mmm?" Til hummed around Mole, slowly wrapping her fingers around him and pulling him out of her mouth, smiling. Her eyes were locked on Mole, making him blush and squirm half heartedly in her grasp. "Something the matter?" Her words rolled over him like dense fog, pulling him back down to her like a trap. He stopped struggling for a moment to catch his breath, hunting for words.

"Jeez, Til. You.. You really got me worried there, for a second I thought you might, you might've actually... I was worried you were going to..." He trailed off nervously, reluctant to say it out loud as her gaze stayed locked to his, an almost predatory look on her face. She waited, watching him struggle for words, watching the hesitancy and fear and anticipation on his face, and she reveled in it. In perfect timing, another assertive growl came from her midsection, punctuating the silence. Til smiled wickedly.

"Say it," she breathed, the candlelight flickering off her face, hovering inches from his.

She could see the tiny beads of sweat on his face, adorable little diamonds that betrayed his feelings so that Til knew exactly how he was feeling, no matter whether he said it or not. But he took a deep breath, steadying himself, and she felt him tense faintly in her hand.

"S-swallow me..."

The last thing he saw clearly was her tongue rushing towards him. He threw his hands up, a reflexive response to protect himself, or at least tell himself he tried to. Then everything was dark and wet.

Til pressed him face-first in to her tongue with a finger, holding his legs together while she carefully tasted his front before flipping him over and pushing him in up to his thighs. Her tongue slid under him, buffering his legs from her teeth before curling up between them and pulling him the rest of the way in.

Mole panicked as his world became much, much smaller around him. The only sounds he could hear were the wet squishes from her tongue, tasting him throughoughly, her breath rolling in and out of her lungs somewhere below, her heartbeat lowly pulsing in the background and all around him. Everything was moving, and hot, and wet, and he was profoundly disoriented. He pressed his hands blindly in front of him and felt hard, smooth ridges, and realised he must be on his back, facing up, and his hands were currently pushing against the roof of his partner's mouth.

He squeaked at the sensation of her tongue lewdly slipping between his legs, searching for his folds. Til knew she found them when she saw Mole's little feet twitch outside her mouth.

Overwhelming was an understatement. Mole was barraged from every angle with sounds and sensations, and that very distracting tongue pressing firmly against his sex, making him moan and arch his back. He felt her palate firmly against his chest as her tongue continued pushing him.

A gasp escaped him when her tongue finally found his entrance and pushed against it. He couldn't help himself as he relaxed his hips and, for the second time, let her in, his fear overruled by her dominance.

Til reached up to grab his legs and try to hold him still. She wanted to taste him, every last little inch.

Her tongue tip prodded and pressed against him more firmly, finally feeling some give. Mole gasped and dropped his hips, grinding against it as it started slipping inside him. Her absolute control was intoxicating and he had yet again forgotten about what he was afraid was happening.

Til began firmly fucking Mole with the tip of her tongue, managing his squirming by keeping hold of his legs and gently sucking on him to keep him from bucking around too much. She felt his small hands running over her tongue and palate before one of them wandered lower and lower.

Naughty boy, Til thought, before swallowing.

A jolt of pleasure shot through Mole as Til's tongue slid deeper in to him, before his orientation changed. He realised he was tilting backwards slightly, just before feeling the unmistakable sensation of her throat closing around him. He tried to let out a muffled cry, but it choked off as she plunged her tongue even deeper inside him, hot and wet and pressing deep and firm in to his most sensitive places. All Mole could feel was Til, everywhere. Everything was Til.

He took a ragged breath. The throat slowly retreated from him before he heard another groan, slowly building from below until he felt her throat opening before him again, the sound of the growling gurgle from her stomach rolling up and over him like a tidal wave. He squirmed lightly in fear again before Til flexed her tongue inside him, causing him to moan and arch his back again while she giggled around him. He was so completely hers, whether he wanted to be or not.

He fought weakly as he felt her tongue stiffen again, recognising the feeling before another swallow enveloped his head and shoulders. This time, he felt his legs slip further in and her tongue began fucking him harder, her lips around his feet the only thing stopping him from being pulled completely in to her throat. He knew he was wet, but it was completely lost on him how much this was turning him on until he felt himself starting to come. He tried pulling it back, tried to pull his legs together, but she had him exactly where she wanted him and wasn't going to let go until she had her prize. He panted, grinding harder against her tongue, relinquishing himself to her and this moment completely.

He cried out as he crested, gripping her tongue with his knees as he spilled all he had in her mouth. He felt her moan softly around him, her own heartbeat speeding up around him as she continued fucking him, her tongue rolling beneath him as she swallowed his pleasure.

He was still coming as he felt her throat, familiar now, reaching up and wrapping around his upper body. It was hot and tight and so, so wet. He couldn't fight if he wanted to as he weakly bucked his hips in to her slowing tongue. She gently started pulling it out before licking him clean and swallowing again.

He whimpered softly as the throat embraced him tightly, taking charge now as it squeezed around him. Til lay back, letting his own weight and movements sink him further in to her throat. He could feel her tongue pressing against his legs, tucking them up before another languid gulp embraced the rest of his body. He wriggled in her throat as the ribbed, rippling muscles shifted and pulled him deeper inside her. It was too slippery to get any kind of grip or even slow himself down as another rolling swallow pressed his face to a firm ring of muscle. He barely had a moment to explore it with his hands before it opened before him, squeezing him out in to the dark, humid chamber.

It was dark, but not absolute, and as his eyes adjusted he could see the wrinkles in the walls, softly lit with a pinkish tinge. His heart fluttered in his chest as the stomach moved around him, gently squeezing him in a full body embrace before relaxing around him, cradling his small form gently. He curled up against the nearest wall, hand pressed to it as he breathed deeply. He could feel her heart.

Til smiled, placing a hand over her stomach, feeling him flutter within her. The water was warm around her and she sighed, sinking deeper in to the bath, the swirling waters dancing around her.

"You okay in there, little one?" She murmured, stroking her belly. She felt him tapping against the walls, their signal that he was okay. She smiled, wrapping her arms around herself, loving the feeling of the warm water around her and her lover within her.

Mole knew she had settled deeper in to the bath because the sounds around him changed. Her heartbeat became slower, her stomach relaxing around him. He could hear the water shifting around outside her stomach, every sound in her body amplified and enveloping him. It was warm and soft like wet silk. He lay back and closed his eyes, dozing off, the familiar feeling of his lover surrounding him.

#soft vore #unwilling prey #v0re #vore writing #gt community #vor3 #sizeplay #gt fluff #sizetumblr #g/t fearplay #g/t #giant tiny #gianttiny #giant/tiny

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shoggothicc · 1 year

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lil monstery thang

#vore art #v0re #vore belly #v.ore #vo.re #vor3 #v0r3 #v/ore #female pred #monster girl pred #eldritch pred

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dragongirluvula · 7 months

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Sometimes I honestly wonder how old vore as a fetish really is. I mean there are plenty of stories of characters being eaten/swallowed alive throughout history (Jonah and the whale, Red Riding Hood, etc) but itd be a real stretch to call them proper vore. As far as I can tell, art that deliberately tries to eroticize the act of devouring/being devoured by others doesn't seem to be older than the early internet. I mean there's certainly nothing stopping some medieval milkmaid from rubbing off to the thought of being fucked and eaten by a dragon, but if any proof of that exists I haven't seen it

My general world view on it is like, it's prolly always been a thing but in the age before easy mass communication it's not really something people were in a position to share.

I agree that those stories and others like them aren't like, vore as in the erotization of consumption but I'm sure if you went back in time several thousand years and communicated the idea to enough people at least one of them will have the "holy shit someone else gets it" reaction eventually.

It's not really provable but it's like, not really disprovable either without the ability to communicate the idea backwards like that, so like, I just kinda think that's prolly how it worked as someone who is not qualified in any space to make a hard claim on it.

Honestly thanks for this ask I love to ramble about this kinda side of things so much.

SINCE I'M TAGGING THIS PLEASE DO NOT ENTER MY BLOG IF YOU ARE UNDER 18.

#omnybus #vor3 #voraphilia #vorarephilia #v0re

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benjaminthewolf · 11 months

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Why Seven Ate Nine: Integrating Tragedy

“Why was Six afraid of Seven?”

“Because Seven ATE Nine!”

Such an iconic joke, now isn’t it? I’m sure we’ve all heard it at least once. The opportunity was staring me straight in the face, and I just HAD to take it.

CW: CRUEL PRED, HEAVILY IMPLIED DIGESTION, OUTBURSTS OF ANGER, NINE IS ATTACKED, TIED UP, AND GAGGED, TRAUMA, MATH

****

Six’s breath strenuously heaved out from his lungs at a continuous, differentiable rate of approximately (e)^x cubic meters of air per second, as the scorching, sticky beads of sweat clinging tightly to, and sliding down his glossy skin flooded outwards from his pores at a rate of the same conditions, coming out to approximately 4(x)^2 fluid ounces of sweat per second. The accumulating, salty tears welling up within, and subsequently flooding over, the straining, pained, and sore corners of his eyes equated to a rate of about 8(x)^3 fluid ounces of tears per second, all before he resolved at last to curb the very first, and finally speak up as such.

“...It was Number Seven…” he shakily stammered out, in a quivering, yet firm, hardened voice. “Number Seven killed my brother.”

****

Being, quite literally, living representations of the conceptual, and highly exalted mathematical system utilized by humanity each day in order to further the advancement of their society, Number Seven, just like all the rest of the living one-digit numbers, carried a significant burden of expectation upon his numerical shoulders each and every single day of the otherwise utterly impossible life he lived; one which had only been granted to him in their mercy by the elusive mathmagician themself.

To Number Seven, however, “significant” was just simply not strong enough of an adjective to describe what precisely it was.

“Goddammit…” Number Seven huffed out to himself through grinding, gritted teeth. “I’m fucking wrong AGAIN!”

Swiftly glancing up and around the college classroom in order to make sure no one was staring at him, Number Seven proceeded to take a silent minute for personal analysis, steadily curving his spine so he may crookedly loom over his paper, before squinting, direct and downwards, onto the whole of the thing, absolutely nothing discernable in his eyes but a cool, rigid, sharpened, composed glare.

“Hmmmmmm….” he softly murmured whilst maneuvering his cartoonish, white-gloved hand connected to blackened stick arms over to the pencil on his desk. “...it really is just that simple, now isn’t it?” he silently spoke in his head whilst maneuvering his pencil over into the answer box for question one. A calm and collected deep breath was steadily and effortlessly released out of his mouth.

Number Seven’s eyes blazed open with instantaneously collected, vivid color and rigor. With hardly as much as an inhale, Number Seven’s pencil ferociously gouged itself into the surface of the paper, its previously nice and professionally sharpened tip snapping off as the thickened, dark and bolded lines dragged their way across the diameter of the answer box. A curved and downright cruel circular bend curled its way over the volume of the designated region, its force so harsh and demanding on the poor paper that it was seemingly individual molecules away from tearing a hole out into the other side. Finally, however, the barrier was breached, the pencil lodging itself mercilessly into the hole it just created as Number Seven glared intently down upon the result of his vigorous, passionate, hard work. Everything had previously been done correctly, with but the singular exception of the end.

“+ C” Number Seven breathlessly wavered out at long last. “THAT is why I lost the whole point.”

“It seems like you’re having a bit of trouble, Number Seven! Wanna come to my study session after school?”

Number Seven gave a sudden, surprised graggling noise before whipping around his head to address the source of the disturbance. Upon comprehending it was Number Nine, Number Seven merely reverted back to his previous state of icy, searing tranquility.

“...Oh. Hello, Number Nine. …You were asking about something?”

Number Nine gave his fellow number a friendly chuckle before continuing, to which Number Seven could only narrow his eyes.

“Well yeah, buddy! I was asking if you wanted to come to my study session after school! Should last…about two hours or so. I noticed you seemed pretty unhappy with your current score, so…y’know, just wanted to bring it up!”

“...Way to go and rub it in my face, there, ‘buddy’.” Number Seven thought to himself in rising irritation before opening his mouth to speak out loud. “...Thanks, but…I’m pretty sure I can handle myself.” he cooly answered Number Nine, doing his very best to maintain his outward composure and not betray his true thoughts behind his gaze.

“Really?” Number Nine swiftly replied with a hint of disbelief in his voice. “You’ve been studying by yourself all this past month, but you’re still not getting the scores you want! Maybe you could just…try a group session, see if that improves your scores?”

“...Thanks, but no thanks.” Number Seven reiterated in indiscernible frustration. “Now can you please leave me alone? I have work to do.”

“...you sure?” Number Nine responded with a tone that hinted concern.

“Yes.”

“Like, absolutely, positively sure?”

“Yes!”

“...but I-”

Number Seven now knew that the time was right to shout.

“YES!” he therefore boomed out in scalding affirmation, his clear and deep-set distaste for the idea present for all of the classroom to hear.

Number Nine instantly reeled back from the shock as the room fell silent. For a while, everything was still.

“...............Ummmmmm…….” Number Nine eventually broke the moment’s silent terror. “...Okay then. I…guess it's your choice. I’ll always be here if you change your mind though.” the number eventually conceded. “Good luck on your next test though, Number Seven!”

Number Seven refused to give Number Nine the satisfaction of respectfully closing the conversation. Number Nine was thus forced to turn away from him, in order to move on with his work.

“...Now, Number Four, you were saying you couldn't remember how to do implicit differentiation?”

As Number Nine went on to aid Number Four in his studies, Number Seven gave a borderline inaudible huff of vexation, as his jaws clenched together in secrecy within the living digit’s chamber that was his mouth. The constant, compounding tension present against the strained muscles around the area caused the slick region within to grow even hotter than it normally would be naturally.

****

Number Seven unenthusiastically allowed a soft sigh to gather its volume in his lungs before indifferently trickling it out through his mouth. With his backpack zipped shut, the living digit coolly heaved its weight up from the floor, before nonchalantly slipping his arms through its loops, and finally, taking a silent step forth.

At the present moment, Number Seven held near-literally every intention of simply going home. Solitarily clopping his way across the college’s now-voiceless, smooth, tile halls, the classroom door he’d just exited eventually echoed its closure behind him. Number Seven inaudibly, yet undeniably thoroughly, basked his mind and being deep within his current solitude. These were the moments he found himself enjoying the most. Just himself. No one else. No one around to disturb him. No one around to annoy him. And best of all, absolutely no one around to ask him if he wanted to-

“HEY, NUMBER SEVEN! YOU STILL SURE YOU DON’T WANNA STAY AND STUDY?”

Something somewhere shattered as Number Seven turned to face the sudden, but recognized voice. He was quite lucky that Number Nine cared little in terms of paying attention to social or interpersonal details, or else he might have been able to decipher the tone, inflection, and cadence with which Number Seven proceeded to speak.

“Didn’t I already tell you back in the classroom? Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go-”

“Oh come on, Number Seven!” a different voice suddenly piped up, forcing Number Seven to once again swivel his gaze over towards the source, eventually identifying the speaker as Number Six, standing to the left of Number Nine. “We all wanna get good grades, here, don’t we?”

Number Seven took his sweet time rolling his eyes. “Yes…and?”

“...and so we’re here to help ya!” Number Four suddenly popped into view within the door frame, taking to Number Nine’s right.

“Somehow…” Number Seven sarcastically thought. “I have a hard time believing you.”

“Don’t worry, Number Seven, it won’t be that bad!” Number Nine added on. “It’ll just be the four of us, working alongside each other!”

Number Seven’s jaw internally wavered as he attempted to take a step away. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, he discovered himself unable to do so.

“We all saw you were frustrated back in class, seems like you might need a little help!” Number Four spoke up again.

“Yeah, since that scream was…y’know…” Number Six added in.

Number Seven ceased his body from exhaling, and seemingly at the same moment that Number Nine opened his mouth.

“No pressure of course though, I just-”

“ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! FINE!” Number Seven clamorously boomed out as he viciously stormed his way through the door, shoving all three fellow numbers aside in doing so, before overdramatically plopping himself down onto a nearby desk, one which was currently surrounded by the other threes’ notebooks and calculators upon their own respective desks, and forcefully thrusting his backpack to the floor. Rattled into paralysis by the outburst, the room fell utterly silent.

“WELL? WHAT ARE YOU GUYS WAITING FOR? ISN’T THIS WHAT YOU WANTED FROM ME?”

None of the three numbers, standing positively dumbfounded, across from Number Seven’s seemingly irrationally agitated form dared say a word for a minute.

“OH, QUIT LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT AND JUST GET IT ALL OVER WITH!” he thus opted to shatter the silence.

Eventually, Number Nine stepped forth.

“Umm…just make sure your calculator is in radian mode, okay?”

****

“...No, Number Seven, it's ‘b’ on top, ‘a’ on bottom, you got them switched around again.” Number Nine calmly explained to his fellow number.

“...but you said that the placement doesn’t matter as long as I put an absolute value around the whole thing.” Number Seven swifty retorted.

“...most of the time, that’s true, but if you want the distance between specifically intervals 80 to 20, the problem is essentially asking you to go backwards, so the answer will always be negative. If it said from 20 to 80, you’d be correct, since the answer will always be positive and an absolute value ensures this happens even if you mix up the ‘b’ and ‘a’ placement, but again, that’s not applicable to this case since the problem is asking you to go backwards.”

“.....I see.”

It had now been approximately thirty minutes since the start of the after-school study session, and already, Number Seven felt as though he was going to implode; something which, though it had been exceedingly obvious upon the very start of the session, all but appeared to be lost on his three fellow numbers now that they were deep within the questions and their nuance.

“Hey, Number Nine, would the integral of 1/(x^2) be 2ln|x^2|?” Number Six asked soon after.

“...don’t forget +C.” Number Seven suddenly added.

“No, +C only applies on indefinite integrals, but in this problem, the integral is definite.” Number Nine rushed to correct Number Seven.

“Now, as for your question, Number Six, for 1/(x^2), you’d just use the power rule. The natural log trick only works when there’s no exponent in the denominator. You know, for problems like 1/(x+2), there, it works, and you get ln|x+2|.”

“Ok, so you do the thing where you rewrite it as (x^(-2)) then, right”

“Yes.”

“So then the integral would be…-(x^(-1)), or -(1/x).”

“Correct!”

“Yes! Awesome! Thanks, bro!”

“No problem!”

“So like…are you two actually brothers or do you just call each other that?” Number Four promptly inquired after the moment of elation for Number Six had passed.

“Heh, yeah it's pretty confusing, isn’t it?” Number Nine nonchalantly chuckled out. “‘Cause nobody actually really knows how the mathmagician created us, so how can we really say we’re genetically related if we don’t know if we’ve got genes in the first place? And it's not like we, as college students really have the money, or even time, really, to get it tested out, but we just call each other brothers…’cause that’s how we’ve always seen our relationship!”

“Oh. I thought…maybe you did get it checked out or something…”

“Nah, why bother? We don’t even need to know if we’re the closest two numbers genetically speaking to see each other as brothers, so there isn’t really even an incentive.”

“Nah, nah, I see you, I see you, it’s cool. Just wanted to know, y’know.”

“Yeah. …alright now let’s see…what question are you on, Number Seven? Question five. Okay, that’s the Riemann sum problem! Should be pretty easy…but yeah let’s see. Alright so it's a left sum…so which interval do you leave out then?”

“...the one farthest to the right.”

“Yes, that’s right! Err…correct. Okay so then how do you get the interval multipliers?”

Number Seven blinked in concentration. “...you…it's the number of whole number values between the x-values of each data point on the graph. So here we’ve got…1 to 3, so 2, 3 to 4, 1…then 4 to 7, 3. Then we ignore the fourth interval because it's the far right one.”

“...well no, you do still need to consider the fourth interval.” Number Nine hastily corrected.

“...what? But this is a left Reimen sum, you ignore the final interval!”

“You ignore the ordered pair, yes, but you still consider the interval between the…like here…in this table it's 7 to 9. The number you multiply seven by is 2 because that’s the distance between the two x-values.”

“...........”

“Here, see? You take the y-values, and multiply them by the distance between the intervals, and then you add them all up at the end! Like this! So the y-values in order are 5, 8, 7, -4, 11. Then you’d go (2(5) + 1(8) + 3(7) + 2(-4))! See its a left sum because the 11 wasn’t used! But you still use the 2 which is the distance between 7 and 9!”

“...........”

“Number Seven?”

“...I thought you said this was going to be easy.”

“Well it is! …once you get the hang of it I mean!”

“...easy for you to say, genius.”

“Well okay, maybe I should’ve said it's easy for me when I got the hang of it, but still, most people, in my experience, don’t really seem to have that much of a problem with table questions once they understand how they work! I mean…you’re not one of them, but…but hey, it's good that we’re working on areas you struggle in, that’s how you breed improvement, after all!”

“...uh-huh.” Number Seven monotonously replied.

“So then uh…why don’t we all move on to the-”

“Number Nine?”

“Yes, Number Seven?”

“Why don’t we walk back to the dorms together tonight, and…have a bit of a math discussion on the way?”

“Sure! Sounds good to me! Alright, then why don’t we move on to question six? What’s the topic for that one? Oh, yes, related rates. That’s right.” Number Nine casually affirmed before almost instantly moving on. “Okay everybody, might wanna put the equations for these ones into Y1 and Y3, since, ya know, Y2 is taken by the whole derivative of Y1 thing, and then get ourselves going?”

****

Simply due to the fact that the walk to the dorms had begun more than two hours after the vast majority of the student body had already clocked out for the day, as well as the fact that, at this time of year, the sun set quite early, it almost appeared that the two living numbers were trodding their way through the muted dead of night, as they concurrently strolled across the college campus.

“So…you wanted to talk to me about something?” Number Nine attempted to ask, in a bit of an awkward, fumbling tone.

“Yes, indeed I did.” Number Seven promptly replied. “I wanted to talk to you about something which I just couldn’t help but notice back during your little study session there.”

“Oh. I’m assuming then, it's something you felt would be best handled in private?”

“Precisely.”

“Alright, well, lay it on me then.”

Number Seven blinked so he could hold out the resulting silence for just about as long as he could.

“Let’s take a shortcut here.” he abruptly switched up the subject, pointing Number Nine towards a back alley squeezed in-between two of the campus’ buildings, located on the left of their path.

“.......oooooookaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy?” Number Nine naturally stretched his word in growing bewilderment. “But like, we are gonna get to your concern here, right?”

“Of course.” Number Seven coolly responded as he led his fellow numerical value deeper into the shadows of the alley. “Allow me to grab something first.”

Immediately allowing the force of gravity to claim the weight of his backpack, Number Seven proceeded to bend down over its form. There was a subsequent unzipping sound, a slight exhale of an utterly indecipherable sigh, and finally, a zipping sound once more.

“Number Nine…” Number Seven spoke firmly, whilst taking a few steps towards the living number.

For reasons which Number Seven cared not about in the slightest, Number Nine remained stiff and silent.

And then, the moment finally came.

****

“MMMMMMMMPH! UUUUUUUUNNNNNNGH! WRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!” Number Nine hysterically screeched out in mortal terror, his frenzied, unwavering cries and pleads for his life only stifled and softened by the gag. His hands had also become tied behind his rectangular back by Number Seven, and his legs, similarly bound.

“Ohhohohohohoh…..Number Nine…” Number Seven’s twisted, inane, grinning, toothy face slowly and sensually moved its lips in order to speak. “...you have absolutely no idea…just how long I have waited for this…”

With his final words successfully conveyed to hs victim, Number Seven, lying on top of, and weighing down his body’s force upon the spasming, writing, flailing being of Number Nine, gave a slimy lick across his chops, allowing some of the drool to drip down onto the gagged number’s face, before, at long last, gradually unveiling his maw.

Number Nine could feel his attacker’s warm breath being heaved directly onto his being, as Number Seven’s tongue gave a casual stroke across the digit’s cheek equivalent area, dragging the sopping muscle across his skin, before absolutely reveling in it with a shuddering sigh of delight. Number Nine could tell Number Seven was moving his arms down the length of his body as his salivating only increased, yet for what purpose, exactly, he was not able to see until the number atop him swiftly tightened his grip on his victim’s skin, taking the subsequent moment of frozen, dire agony to flip his position around, so that finally, the main show could commence.

The moment he had regained control of his senses again, Number Nine could feel Number Seven’s tongue trailing lightly across his stick-like legs, both at the same time, no less, due to their tied-up proximity to each other, before at last, the thin limbs were squeezed mercilessly, with a vengeance, and both of the captured extremities were viciously shoved into the gaping, heated, chamber of the living Number Seven’s slickened maw.

Number Nine vainly attempted to kick his feet in order to get Number Seven away, and yet, his reckless pounding seemed to do nothing but make his attacker scoff, his legs being shoved deeper into the tightened region, sliding down and across the length of the tongue, before striking against the plump, swaying uvula located at the back of Number Seven’s throat. Number Nine could both feel and see his feet lodging inside of Number Seven’s gullet, the psychotic, living number murmuring pleasured jabberings of nonsense all the while, until finally, he swallowed, with an audible, squishy-sounding gulp.

Number Nine, only able to watch and cry out in futility as the slight bulge that was his feet and legs traveled from the top of Number Seven’s throat to its middle, could now also feel his lower bodily region being inserted into the lunatic’s maw, touching down smoothly onto his tongue. Number Nine continued his violent convulsions and searing, fruitless shrieks as Number Seven licked and slathered the slick muscle all across the totality of surface area of the bodily rectangular prism which he currently held in his maw.

Finally, however, Number Seven swallowed once more, squelching Number Nine’s legs and lower body deeper into his constricting esophagus, and sending the next section of his body inside to be examined with his tongue.

Number Nine, at this point, was beginning to tap out of reality, his muscles jittering about by pure necessity, as his strained reserves of energy did their very best to hold out for no other reason but bodily instincts. As Number Seven swallowed once again, Number Nine now recognized implicitly that soon, his very own eyes were to be graced within the same exact walls as the rest of his body, before entering into at last his possible final destination all together.

Number Seven, now that Number Nine was restrained beyond the ability to resist, sensually rubbed and glomped across the great bulge that he was making in his throat. The lengthwise and widthwise expansions seemed utterly anatomically impossible, and yet, Number Seven seemed to have absolutely no problem at all as he gulped down the last section of Number Nine’s main body, finally allowing his circular head to be nicely slidden into his maw.

Now, at long last, the living number clamped his jaws shut, sealing the whole of Number Nine away in his being. Now, there stood absolutely nothing in his way, and now, in order to commemorate the moment properly, Number Seven thus allowed himself to take one last victory lap of slimy mawplay, caressing the thick, salivating muscle of his tongue across the trembling, petrified face of Number Nine, positively soaking up the complexities of flavor which existed upon the doomed number’s glossy skin. It was only natural that he would taste somewhat salty, as due to his current bodily terror, sweating was all but inevitable. But that was not the reason that Number Nine tasted so divine. Not by a long shot, at all. Number Seven wasn’t exactly able to pin a label to it, but the zest was still oddly familiar. It was certainly meaty or gamey, but Number Seven presumed that this was only because he was indeed, made of flesh. What was the adjective exactly? Processed? Comercial? No, that would paint the flavor in a bad light, indeed the exact opposite of what Number Seven was trying to accomplish.

Regardless of what it actually was, however, Number Seven still recognized that he needed to get it into his stomach as soon as possible, lest the passing seconds give way to discovery. Thus, with a slight tilting back of his head, Number Seven made his epiglottis cover up the entrance to his windpipe, as the powerful, squelching motion pushing forwards the diameter of Number Nine’s head at last shoved its circumference into the esophagus.

Number Seven exhaled with shuddering ecstasy as he shoved his two hands onto the ginormous bulge in his throat, one which was only made possible by Number Nine’s equally ginormous head. Collapsing his elated, delirious being onto the alleyway floor before shoving his back up against its walls, Number Seven now awaited for the fruits of his labor to commence as the constant esophageal squeezing quite literally enveloping Number Nine escorted his slimy, overheated body down into the awaiting chamber below. Number Seven on the outside was able to pick up a few of the low-pitched gurgles and rumbles emulating from within the currently empty chamber. It would only be a couple seconds before that statement would no longer be true, however. Soon enough, Number Seven would thus sense his lower esophageal sphincter opening up in order to allow for the entry of Number Nine. The sleek, cushiony walls gave the final needed motions of peristalsis, and then, in but an instant, it happened.

Number Seven made a considerable many vocalizations of joy as he felt his stomach bulging forth considerably, the tight, taught and squishy gut glomping about on his knees as it worked to settle in Number Nine. Number Seven lay his head and arms down upon the shifting bulge quite longingly. With the side of his head now squarely upon the middle of the enlarged stomach, the now relatively higher-pitched echoes of grumbles and groans constantly reverberated inside of his inner ear, all the while the churning, glorping motions of the organ encircled the trapped number within.

Number Nine was barely even conscious at this point. His body had shut down to a point where he was hardly even able to think. Still, the goopy, pillowy, walls shoved in and out and around in order to churn and mash up his very form into chime, and by now, the concentration of the acids within the stomach had pooled to a degree where the process of digestion was inevitable.

Searing up against and into the delicate lining of skin, the tingling sensation of the acids causing the layers of his cells to slowly transform into goop, Number Nine finally lost the color from his eyes.

Eventually, Number Nine stopped thinking.

Number Seven didn’t give a damn if he was caught at this point. All that mattered to him was that finally, he had done it. Number Nine was now trapped within an organ of slimy, squishy demise, utterly incapable of resistance, doomed to melt away into pudge. Despite all his grandstanding of superiority, it was Number Seven who held the victory in the end. That was all that mattered to him, and that was all, he was sure, that would matter to him from then on forth.

“WHY DON’T YOU INTEGRATE THE RATE AT WHICH YOU’VE BEEN SWALLOWED, HUH, NUMBER NINE?” he cackled out in his cruelty and into the deafened, silent, cold night.

****

Number Seven could not have been more right.

After Number Six had identified him from the lineup, Number Seven pleaded guilty to the crime and was put on trial for murder in the first degree soon after. Eventually deciding to take a plea deal, as that way he would still be able to secure many in-prison privileges, Number Seven was ultimately sentenced for life, and locked behind bars for the rest of his numerical existence.

His story became a worldwide sensation, with thousands of people showing up for Number Nine’s funeral, and many, many more attending the ceremony remotely via live news. Number Six was able to found a charity in his digit brother’s memory, a cause which gave him just enough will to get him through the inexpressible cruelty of the tragedy. With the help of friends, family, therapy, and time, Number Six was eventually able to recover to a state of mental stability and healthiness, continuing on his brother’s life through his own, and finding a sense of closure with the perpetrator firmly behind bars.

Number Seven, meanwhile, became a criminal celebrity, a legacy which, he knew without a doubt, would live on throughout the generations, bringing him a level of notoriety and fame which was otherwise inaccomplishable via the pursuit of mathematical knowledge alone. Had Number Nine been left alive, Number Seven would have never been as well known. That was precisely why, despite his imprisoned existence, he never ever felt as though his life had been wasted at all.

In the end, the story would indeed be passed down through generations. Young kids would be taught a kid-appropriate version of the story as a means of teaching the importance of kindness and communication, both by their parents, and teachers. And though the intended effect did indeed accomplish itself quite well, ultimately, what we remember this moment in history for is, indeed, the recess joke which was developed amongst the young children who learned it. I am quite certain you’re familiar with it.

“Why was Six afraid of Seven?” one of the children would say.

And finally, the other child, completely unable to comprehend the true scale of the horrors they were joking about, jovially responded with a chortle.

“Because Seven ATE Nine!”

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koboldgirlslit · 5 months

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I want to be devoured. not just talking about vore here, I want to be consumed by some force, in mind and body. this could be being made into a perfect little drone for somebody, or be turned into a flustered mess.

#nsft #v0re #vor3 #v0r3 #v0re nsft #rubber #rubber drone

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mupp-y · 1 year

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thinking about random shit again.

pred trying to comfort a prey by cuddling them so close,, but its just not enough. The way they slowly lift them up to put them in their mouth so carefully and trailing their finger down, following the prey down to the tummy. I <3 sappy cute stuff

#im slowly going insane #giggling and twirling my hair #soft vore #v0re #extreme cuddling #vor3

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rawvinegar · 11 months

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Oh to be the pathetic, wriggling lump in your middle…

#v0re #soft vore #swallow #endosoma #belly k!nk #vor3 #v0re blog

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marshall-the-marshmallow · 3 months

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This was originally going to be a mawshot but it turned out horribly soooo I just made a tongue instead

#comfort vore #safe vore #save vore #sfw vore #v0re #vore internal #vor3 #mawshot

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benjaminthewolfnsfw · 10 months

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A Sugary Snack (Remastered)

....sooooo this fic definitely needed to be remastered. Not because I was unhappy with the quality of writing of the original...but because in the original the prey was a wild, non-sapient Sugarbat and yeah...I think that might just cross one line too many.

So, I made the prey a Sugarbat borrower hybrid instead! Enjoy!

Oh, and just for clarification, "Portal Master" is the Skylands term for Human.

WARNING: FATAL VORE, GOOEY DIGESTION

****

Being a Borrower-Subarbat hybrid, life was generally pretty good. You got to enjoy all the benefits that resulted from the Sugarbats’ kind and cuddly reputation, (as well as their ability to fly), whilst simultaneously benefiting from the fact that as a borrower, you possessed a level of sapience that full Sugarbats just didn’t have. This essentially meant that you could experience the best of both worlds to their fullest, which was an opportunity you had taken and flewn away with over the years.

Your flight, a coveted ability which most other Borrowers and even Borrower-Hybrids didn’t have, ensured that you could practically go anywhere you wished at any time. Your diet of disease-spreading bugs earned you a near-heroic reputation in many of the villages you often frequented. And perhaps most importantly of all, your soft, fluffy Sugarbat body allowed for headpats and tummy rubs galore. You loved receiving them, and people loved giving them. You loved everybody, and everybody loved you. This was the Sugarbat way of life, and thus, it was yours as well.

Due to all this, then, upon sensing that some sort of tall, lean, green troll was climbing up the tree you were currently resting in whilst gazing up at you intently, (although slightly hesitantly), you didn’t really think you had reason to be alarmed.

The troll eventually makes his way up to the branch that you’re on, before slowly and shakily extending his arm. You promptly respond to this by gently nuzzling your head against his hand before his fingers cautiously slip around your being, gently grasping ahold of you as a result. The troll then starts to direct his gaze downwards, eventually making eye contact with a tiny, bald midget portal master standing rather impatiently on the ground. He then goes on to swiftly glance downwards towards his feet before precariously releasing his grip on the branch he had been previously gripping onto and maintaining his balance with. Once he has managed to do this without immediately falling out of the tree, he tenderly places his other hand on your head, covering up both your ears as a result, before rubbing all around it nice and slowly. This, of course, causes you to let out a rather pleased stream of high-pitched squeaking noises as he did.

Finally, he opens up his mouth to speak before re-establishing eye contact with the portal master standing right below. However, as your ears are currently being covered up whilst you’re constantly making high-pitched squeaking noises, you don't end up understanding a word that he’s saying. If you could understand, however, you would hear something like this.

“UH, LORD KAOS, I THINK I GOT IT NOW!”

“THEN GET DOWN FROM THERE, YOU FOOL! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, I’M STARVING OVER HERE!”

“-Y-YES LORD KAOS, RIGHT AWAY, SIR!”

The troll promptly takes his hand off your head before, as carefully and yet as swiftly as he could, proceeding to climb down the tree, placed at a major disadvantage since he could currently only use one hand to keep his grip. He still needed to hold onto you, after all. Inevitably, this unfortunate combination of circumstances would cause him to lose his balance. Since he was already almost at the bottom at this point, though, the impact didn’t really hurt him too much aside from knocking the wind out of him for a while. Despite all this, he had still somehow managed to keep his hold on you. You can’t really help but slightly tilt your head to the side in slight concern at this scene.

“Took you long enough…” the portal master grumbles under his breath as he walks up to the troll on the floor and places his own fingers around your upper body. The troll immediately lets go and simply focuses on regaining his breath for the moment, as the portal master takes a few steps away from the poor creature whilst silently staring you down. It was at this point where you really began to get confused.

“Ugh, you Sugarbats are still too sickly sweet for my liking…” the portal master begins to groan to himself as your already pretty confused face now begins to grow slightly concerned. “… but I’m still really hungry! So, in you go!”

Immediately snapping your head up in a bout of instantaneous, undistilled, body-jostling horror which rendered your form completely and utterly paralyzed for the moment being, you suddenly let out a terrified “EEP!” sound as the realization at last began to settle in. The portal master towering above you steadily brings you closer and closer towards his twisted face. It was only when his slimy, slick, smooth purple tongue momentarily exited his mouth to give a rather wet lick across his chops did you realize that your fate had already been sealed.

Upon the relative giant finally unveiling his maw, the saliva-soaked, goopy purple chamber within promptly stretches just about as wide as it could feasibly go in order to fit all of your being within its confines at once. His mildly sharpened, glistening, white fangs brazenly gleaned their brilliant shine back at you as the portal master himself maneuvered you around in his two hands for a while until they were holding you in a cupping motion; this in order to insure he wouldn’t accidentally bite down onto any of his fingers whilst shoving you into his maw.

The portal master goes on to waste absolutely zero time before doing exactly that, shoving his cupped hands up against his face in order to cram you inside past his jaws. His tongue, now that you are mostly underneath it, swiftly flings you up and back towards the middle of the chamber before the portal master’s lips close up, whilst still leaving open his jaws. He then slurps up your tail that had been previously dangling outside like a noodle, and finally, firmly snaps together both jaws, sealing you away, permanently within him, yet momentarily within his maw, as a result.

The portal master’s glossy, soft, moist tongue proceeds to slide itself out from underneath you, before longingly caressing your being with a slow, warm lick across your head. It then proceeds to move in, out, up, down, and around the whole of your body, positively slathering your middle, back, wings, tail, and all, with his saliva. The compounding natural warmth within the maw acts as yet another thing that is constantly soaking up into your being, simultaneously.

Eventually, the portal master goes on to slide his tongue back into place under your form, before using it to swish you between his cheeks for a while, the sensation of your waterlogged, soggy fur brushing against the slick walls of his cheek causing a pleasured shudder to run its way down the midget’s spine. This would go on for Eon knows how long, before the portal master slowly raises up the back of his tongue, in order to get your soaked being to slide back and towards the entrance of his throat, the gullet opening wide as the great, plump, dangling purple uvula gently sways back and forth above your head.

At this point, it had become all but certain in your mind just what was about to happen next, but as the portal master’s tongue proceeds to shove you deeper and deeper into his gullet, it somehow grew more and more impossible for you to get yourself to move, and therefore resist and escape.

Eventually, you are able to see the epiglottis covering up the entrance to the trachea, as the portal master swallows you whole. He somehow manages to squeeze your small, furry being down into his esophagus all at once, and down towards his stomach as a result. He, himself, however, does not seem to be surprised by this fact in the least.

The portal master immediately let out an excessively satisfied sigh before placing a few fingers over the great bulge you were making in his throat, poking and prodding at it in a teasing manner, all the while you on the inside only continued your long, grueling journey downwards and towards his now empty stomach.

At this point, the troll that had first brought you out of your tree had managed to get back up on his feet. He merely glanced over at his portal master…master with a slight sigh and a head nod before just simply being forced to watch it happen as the man sat himself himself down against the very same tree and placed a hand over his rumbling, growling gut, patiently lying in wait for its oncoming meal to be delivered right into it.

Back on the inside of the throat, you had, understandably, begun totally freaking out, squirming and thrashing around within the tight tunnel to quite a considerable degree. Ultimately though, this was all just simply in vain, as no matter how much you pushed and shoved against the slimy, purple walls of the esophagus, the seconds ticking down all around you, you only seemed to be getting squeezed deeper, the rhythmically squelching walls pulsing around your poor being as you continued on squeaking desperately, practically begging the portal master on the outside to let you go free. Quite unfortunately for you, however, this request was absolutely, positively, not going to be granted by the now hazily drooling man lounging casually against your own tree. His fingers began to gently drum over his stomach in a tranquil air of contentedness, as you on the inside are now able to pick up his heartbeat.

The deep, booming thumping emulating from deep inside of his chest would be absolutely nothing, in terms of audio noise, compared to the relatively high pitched grumbling and gurgling noises echoing around within the portal master’s still empty stomach which you were able to detect just a few seconds later, however. As, upon realizing what, exactly, this meant for you, your utterly futile cries and struggles only proceeded to grow stronger.

When at last you reached the lower esophageal sphincter, the slick, narrow entryway gently squeezed you out into his growling, shifting, tightened purple stomach, the heated, growling organ expanding just slightly upon sensing your newfound, sudden presence, picking up its churning and rumbling even more whilst the acids began to trickle in.

The portal master on the outside could feel his formerly empty, growling gut positively filling up with your form, the sensation of your heavy, squirming, helpless Sugarbat being fighting desperately for your very life within the hopeless, compact, slimy confines of his stomach chamber being all but heavenly for him, causing him to start slowly rubbing his hand over his stomach in absolutely nothing but pure bliss as a result.

You on the inside were now beginning to feel the stinging of the acids seeping through all your formerly soft and fluffy pelt, now horrifically soaked and soggy with saliva and gastric juices, causing you to start squeaking despairingly in pain, as the slick, purple walls of the stomach repeatedly expand and contract, sloshing and swirling the acids all around your poor being whilst your many fur and skin layers only continue to cruelly melt away. Dissolving all the way down into a thick, oozy, viscous, mucky goop, your tiny, Sugarbat body is only ever able to keep on flailing helplessly up until the very end, never, ever, ever to see the light of the moon anymore.

Now with no more resistance to worry about, the organ only ramps up its sloshing even further, gurgling and shifting about in order to churn up what once was your living body into a nutritious soup of gooey mush, one that would only be mashed up into chime and pumped through the portal master’s intestines, destined in the end to build up into a permanent part of the man’s body after all was said and done.

Soon, your being had become so incredibly pulpy, that its former Sugarbat outline was at last beginning to drip off and swirl away, many large chunks of mush breaking away from each other and sinking deep into the swishing pool of acids before dissolving down even more, at last being mashed up and churned about into a homogenous pool of soupy chime. Now, you were nothing more than a bunch of cellular slush, and the portal master’s body treated you as such, your liquified former body casually flowing on down into the beginnings of the man’s small intestine, as the pylorus opened up seconds later.

The portal master on the outside proceeded to give his satisfied, growling stomach a few pats and many more rubs as a small amount of air that had been previously trapped inside his stomach was suddenly brought up inside his throat, and released all at once in a great, deep belch, one that caused the poor, green troll standing solemnly next to the man to just sigh.

He didn’t know when his master would get back up. It could be in a few minutes, it could be in a few hours. All the troll knew was that, at the very least, now that his hunger was satisfied, there would be no need to try and appease the midget portal master by scrambling around sporadically in the kitchen doing what little was possible to whip up a satisfactory meal for him anymore. The last time this was attempted was…disastrous, we’ll just say that.

As such, as the portal master’s loud, rumbling guts continued to make work of the sloshy remains of the once living Sugarbat that had just recently entered into it, the troll could only stand back and silently hope he would never have to fall out of a tree in order to get a meal for his master ever again.

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missaquavelvetica · 1 year

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Random, but all minors who dare try to interact with this blog will be punted into the fucking sun. Vore is a fetish, and therefore inherently NSFW, even if not always lewd.

There is no such real thing as "SFW vore," just vore that wasn't explicitly created to be lewd, i.e. safe vore.

If you disagree with this, then I'm sorry, but we're probably not gonna be able to be friends. Nothing personal, I just don't want minors getting involved in my goddamned fetish.

As of making this post, I thankfully haven't run into any yet, but who knows when that'll change...

#v0re #vor3 #v/ore #soft vore #soft v/ore #safe vore #safe v/ore #fatal vore #fatal v/ore

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the-real-ali · 6 months

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Stupid twink gets eaten by goth queer

Puff lied in his bunk, it was around 3:25 AM. The other band members were asleep so had to be quiet to not wake anyone up. He would get up and quietly get out of his bunk to grab a snack. He opened the mini fridge and looked around and there was a container saying ‘Axl’s food DO NOT TOUCH’. Puff would take the container out from the fridge and softly mumble to himself “Eh who cares, it’s just some food i’m sure he won’t mind”, Puff would take the food back to his bunk and begin eating, and after a bit he would put the empty the container on the side and head to sleep. He would be awakened by Axel speaking “Puff, do you know who ate my food, because I swear to god whoever did it I'll teach them a lesson they won’t forget”. Puff would reach for his glasses and put them on before responding to Axel “Ugh no Axel I don’t know and I don’t care for your fucking food, just go buy more dumbass”, Axel would scoff and walk away to ask the other members clearly annoyed. Benatar and Deejay's voices could be heard, they would both stay if they didn’t take his food. Puff could hear the two say something about getting food then the tour bus door slamming shut. The two of them were left alone, Axel continued to give Puff dirty stares, like he knew Puff ate his food, “Sooooo uh Axel if I told you who ate your food, What would you do?” Puff would ask, his voice had a slightly guilty tone to it. He would hear the goth's stomach growl “You know I wouldn’t be so hungry right now if someone didn’t eat my food, and if I found out who ate my food, which I know. I’ll teach them a lesson, so puff would you like to explain why the container with my name on it was in your bunk empty”, Axel would respond to puffs question before going up to him. Puff stared up at his band member, his large height towering over him, “L-Look i’m really sorry it was late and I-I was just really hungry. Deejay and Benatar went out to get more food. We can just forget about this happening and we c-can be on good terms” Puff's tone was slightly scared. Axel would put his hands on Puff's waist “Puff I don’t care that Deejay and Ben went out to get food. I’m angry because you took my food while I was sleeping, you could’ve just asked. but now I’m hungry and upset and you have to deal with these consequences” Axel's tone was slightly rough as he picked up a puff, He would struggle and thrashed around in axels grasp, his tone was shaky “A-Axel wait we can talk about this I know you’re upset but let’s not do anything too drastic”. Axel would roll his eyes and open his mouth to bring Puff close, his warm breath against his band leader's face. Puff's squirms got more violent as he was brought closer to Axel's mouth, Axel started pushing Puff into his mouth, and his grip remained tight as he swallowed. Puff continued to struggle and squirm but despite his efforts, he was overpowered, his body begins squeezed down the goths esophagus, and after some hard forceful swallows puff was fully in axels stomach causing it to bulge out “AXEL YOU FATASS LET ME OUT!” puff would angrily yell out, squirming and struggling in Axel's gut. Axel lied in his bunk patting and poking his gut in a teasing manner “I’ll let you out later you big baby this is just a small punishment, well not small” he teasingly giggled then yawned. Knowing what his bandmate meant, puff got comfy and closed his eyes attempting to sleep while listening to Axel's heart beating, he sighed softly before asking “Axel.. just wake me up when you’re going to let me out”. The stomach walls expanded and contracted around Puff's body as he relaxed, the soothing feeling slowly pulling him deeper into his slumber. The last thing he heard was Axel's response followed by a soft sigh “Alright puff… but if you do this again I won’t hesitate to eat yo ass, wait that came out wrong know what just go to sleep.” Puff sighed and ignored what Axel said before falling asleep

#ali speaking #yfm vore #safe vore #soft vore #nonsexual vore #non fatal vore #endosoma #unwilling vore #vore story #vore stories #sfw vore #tw vore #axel chains #puff puff #half size vore #v.ore #vor3 #unwilling prey #nonfatal vore

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bridgebelly · 3 months

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god i need to be vored, dms open

#vor3 #vorny #v0re #safe vore #soft vore #roleplay

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benjaminthewolf · 1 year

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Thor (God Of War) Lol

Fun fact: I have so little fear that I worked on this at the dining room table when everyone was getting the thanksgiving diner food ready. I am just simply built different.

(Ok I hadn’t gotten to the actual vore part yet but still…)

****

Your ragged, shivering breath is shakily heaved in and out of your lungs, frosting up the airways with its chill, before it is inevitably warmed by your being and released back into the cold again as a whitened cloud of mist. Both you and Thor had known that the oncoming storm was going to be cold, but neither of you could have ever predicted it would be this level of horrid.

Desperately leaning forwards a little and arching your form over the flames, the large, sizzling fire that the two of you had lit to keep warm was ultimately doing quite little to aid against the constant soaring freeze, much to both of your worries. You were, indeed, donning a layered set of specialized winter gear, and yet that fact combined with the fire only seemed to add even more to the taunting cries of the storm, as it seemingly knew quite well that none of your puny little attempts at resisting against its power were ultimately all in vain.

That was exactly why Thor had raised the, at the time, rather strange question to you. For both himself and the storm recognized implicitly that even the vast earthly power of its raw, icy sting was all but effortlessly triumphed and overcome by the array greater abilities possessed by the divine, all physically encompassed deep inside the depths of the towering, powerful being that was such a god as Thor.

Thor gets up and settles his giant form next to yours, instead of forcing you to get up and risk even more than was already at hand. A quivering smile is shakily formed across your face as the large man gently wraps his arms around you, and, in subsequent preparation for the encompassing journey ahead, in turn encompasses your inside his outside frame, gently and sensually settling against that of your frail and meager own. Your cheek is pressed even deeper into the powerful man’s chest, causing a sudden, warmed shudder to rattle its way throughout your mortal being. You gently nuzzle your face up against Thor’s chest, whilst his callused, strengthened hands cautiously wrap around your relatively tiny form.

Making your arms move up and forth as well, they soon are caused to settle upon the soft, chubby stomach against the great man’s middle. Allowing rapidly steadying breath after rapidly steadying breath to ease in and out of your lungs as you rub and knead your longing, slim fingers and palms around the area, you are soon quite easily able to detect the deeply confined white noise radiating from Thor’s body as such.

At first, it was merely his heartbeat, throbbing and pulsing away inside his ribs. You wished o’ so dearly you could just, simply melt into his body and wrap yourself all around his heart, but you knew quite well that you would be getting as close as was mortally possible to that very organ very, very soon, and thus, did not bring it up.

After a while, however, the former sense of silence that had been radiating out from the middle is finally broken and freed, thus causing your body to naturally heat up with desire. A beckoning, howling symphony of wondrous rumbles and groans scattering on forth towards your ears, and causes the both of you to smile, as you are finally able to recognize that the time has come at last.

Thor is absolutely nothing but silent, gentle, and cautious as he slowly peels your being off from his skin, and lifts you on up, and towards his still closed maw. He lets in and out a sigh through his nose, causing a warm front of air to get blown directly onto your face, before at last the giant man clears up his throat, and, without anything more to do, opens up his maw.

Thor slowly extends out his tongue, and gently caresses it upon your face, allowing your body to be graced upon a sample of his heat, before at last, the man’s jaws are stretched just wide enough for your head to be placed inside, the gaping sight of his maw highly enticing your mind. You are able to feel the natural gradient of heat embracing itself upon your head and neck as your cheek is squished upon his tongue. The squishy, pink muscle allows your face to become slathered with his wet, sticky saliva.

Thor’s breath is pushed in and out, in and out, against your rapidly warming form. He begins to ease your body back towards his gullet, causing the top of your head to bump against his uvula whilst he does so. The man’s gullet at last opens wide as you are inched closer to it, thus revealing to you the squelching tube that is his esophagus just desperately waiting for your arrival. Your head gently sinks deeper and deeper into his gullet, before at last, Thor swallows, and your head is fully inside.

As your middle is subsequently shoved into his maw, Thor is now able to gently clasp his jaws down without risk of you falling out. He lifts his head up and very cautiously lowers his teeth to hold your legs and feet in place without causing you pain. Now with his hands free, he begins to rub ever so slowly over the slight bulge you are making in his throat. Able to feel it from the outside, your being starts to feel slightly tingly as Thor suddenly swallows again. Now with only your legs and feet left to be downed, Thor can fully close his maw and lower his head back to its natural position. Taking just a few seconds to get his bearings again before finishing the swallowing, Thor gives a couple of preemptive pats over his guts, knowing quite well that pretty soon, it would become even larger than it naturally was under any normal circumstances.

Finally swallowing for the third and final time, Thor lets out a considerably satisfied sigh as he plops down into the snow next to the fire, and merely awaits for your arrival to commence. You on the inside are now able to feel the constant squeezing motions easing in upon your body as you are carefully escorted down to the chamber below. Thor places his hands on his guts and gives a slight lick across his lips as you are suddenly able once more to detect all the white noise you had formerly only experienced from the outside of the man’s being.

Sensing the thumping of Thor’s heart pulsing and echoing all around your form, you gingerly force yourself to become silent, so you may be able to detect the unmistakable gurgling that was indicative of one’s own stomach. Sure enough, the moment it became audible, for some inexplicable reason, the former experiences of the cold were now but a long gone, distant memory.

Thor is able to feel your body getting squeezed out of his lower esophageal sphincter, filling up his stomach and causing the great organ to expand to fit your form as a result. Thor’s already rather chubby gut is therefore grown to an even larger size as a deep, rumbling growl is suddenly detectable from the outside. Patting and rubbing his giant hands all over the even more giant stomach as the sloshing and churning only picked up upon the arrival of a sudden ginormous meal, the powerful man silently gives a smile, as he is, indeed, aware that for the moment being, his work here is done.

You on the inside are only able to feverishly snuggle your entire body against the soft, goopy walls as the harmless liquids around you wettened up your form and positively ensconced your mind deeper and deeper inside. As the walls’ natural coding subsequently caused them to expand and contract their cushiony, pink lining all around your being, all of those horrid, frigid memories of you shivering out in the cold merely less than ten minutes ago, are rapidly melted away, as now, all that was present around you, keeping you warm and safe from the absolutely no doubt livid winds outside, was the slimy, squishy stomach of your own beloved Thor, the god whom you had bonded with, and had now broken the physical barrier with on this bitter winter’s trek. Nothing, nowadays, came easily to anyone, much less that of solidarity and comfort. And yet, here to you, the lucky friend of Thor, had come not only that exactly, but, you see, as was rather excessively tangible as you were squeezed up against the loving god’s goopy, gurgling guts, so, so, so much more.

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