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Something short to break my story hiatus. Nothing better for the job than self-indulgency. This originated from a paragraph I unloaded on someone after a discord poke.
Because it's in a second-person POV I usually try to keep species specifics uncertain for readers' imagination, but the prey here definitely is described with some manner of scales because that's just what happens when I'm left to my own devices.
[LOG: Excerpt taken from random unencrypted conversation over communication network]
“Do you think thoughts?”
“Perhaps. Often things like ‘Is this too big for me that if I tried and failed to eat it, I would be in a sour position?’ Yes. Otherwise I let intuition decide at a glance and go right ahead.”
“I see. Personally, I don’t think. I just do.”
“That’s how you end up churning.”
“I mean, I’ve started mulching people too! It’s actually quite nice if you don’t guilt trip yourself. But stewing in a gut is also fun.”
“If you’re too headstrong with the 'eat or be eaten' motto, then before you know it…”
You've been hooked up to a feeding machine with heavy bulges of sweet nutrient paste glorping down the hose, eyes following the mass intently until they cross and you spy the nozzle snugly attached to your maw with a strap. No other options than to swallow, sending the dense caloric glob down your gullet, weighing down a belly that if you could even move your head, you'd have sworn it was bumping your knees already. How long were you unconscious for? When did this even happen, what had you been doing last? Only now do the 'thoughts' course through your mind too little too late, but are pushed away with the next serving of unidentifiable flavory sludge spilling into your jowls. Somewhere, out of the edge of your peripheral vision, you barely catch a glimpse of... something. Whatever, or whoever that may be, you get the innate sense they're smiling at the display. Especially when you hear the unmistakable bellow of a stomach nearby that is not your own.
The room's lighting dims, from a general brightness you hadn't noticed until it was a low yellow, as if through a dusty lampshade with a bulb overdue for a change. Colors become muted, shapes visible but difficult to parse detail. A clawtip draws across the turgid scales of your abdomen, administering a light squeeze here and there as the fatty concoction sloshes within. You'd try to move your head again to catch a look at your captor, but the bulky, canvas-reinforced feed hose and harness holds you in place. Still, your attempt does not go unnoticed. A click sounds to your left, followed by a whirring above as a panel lowers several feet before you- a mirror.
Look at yourself. Swollen, sagging belly, spaces appearing betwixt abdominal scales where sensitive underskin bulges with fullness. Your cute little expression, decorated with worry with what little is visible past the hose and bloated cheeks. *Glurp*
That reminds you to swallow again. Odd, being able to watch the lump of paste form under your chin and pass deeper into your gullet before vanishing at the clavicle. The rotund mass you'd call your stomach surged just a little more.
As the claw travels up your flank, a perverse thrill of pleasure follows in its wake. Only then are you aware of your arms strapped behind you, embedded in back fat as each limb is cushioned with flaps of their own. The hand makes sure you're aware: a light pinch here, a small dig between the pudges of an armpit there, finished with all digits spreading, tracing the back of your skull. Scritch-scratching the base of your ears and peaking the forehead, it stopped at your brow to where you no longer half to rely on the mirror to see the edges of the hand creep into your vision. A low breath dances over the bridge of your snout, rich with anticipation and hunger. It trails over the sides like steam from a waterfall on a brisk morning, pulled past your teeth from inhales between swallows as this new unknown flavor samples your tongue. The next *glorp* of slurry quickly washes it away.
That body of yours groans and gurgles louder now, yet complaints of the immense fullness fall on deaf ears. Almost. Their hand withdraws, now sliding along the slope of your spine. A second joins, doodling lazy loops until reaching your blossoming flanks, palming and kneading the pendulous burden. They sink deep, passing any available plump between alternating fingers, thumbing newly forming layers of bulk as they settle on your frame, both sides descending lower before hefting great heaps of tum and dropping it with a deep *guh-lorp*. Gas bubbles fight their way to form an unreleased belch, pressed back into your roiling, distending gut from this endless outflow.
Climbing the swell of your body, the grips crossed to your waistline with a brief rub then down rump, thighs, clasping at hanging ankles and bringing them up, up, nearly horizontal as your backend vanished in the mirror’s display. As far as your eyes could tell, this dim glow was all which separated you from the consuming darkness. It lingered at the light’s border, shadows lapping at your curves. Wetness lapping at-
*SchLorK*
A slick stocking of flesh pinned your feet together as if the current bindings weren’t enough. Your heart would have leapt into your throat were it not for the next huge gulp from the feed tube driving it back, followed by a similar *glurk* as the warmth scaled your calves. For a moment you’d forgotten struggling was an option no matter how futile, the previous massage distracting from such a concept. Straps creaked and chains clinked somewhere above as you jerked and wriggled with what little control remained, trying to swing your feet back out of the invisible maw, but without a solid brace your body teetered back from inertia and sank further. And judging by the strength of those muscles clenching down, you weren’t coming back out.
*Gluck*
It wasn’t clear if that sound was your body or theirs. A displaced air pocket crept past your thigh as their jaw eclipsed your hips, tucking both tail and ripening rear into that cramped, damp passage. How that mouth and neck held such mass without biting was beyond belief, but with the grotesque shape it must’ve made, perhaps it was a good thing your devourer’s identity remained obscured by dusk.
*Slorkp*
You could really do without the noises too, but any complaints were hushed by the unending fattening paste. Sometimes it felt like your consumer was playing it up with the volume just for your sake, but then again, shoveling down a plus-sized-and-growing meal was a viable excuse. Teeth grazed your tush, drawing across your twin hills while a tongue teased along your underswell and inciting involuntary squirming from your bound figure. Working their way over this engorged expanse and occasionally sliding between nooks and crannies of widening scales, every gulp you took sent a ripple of growth which sank the layer of blubber against the predator’s maw on its own. Ever the gracious host, they patiently waited for each *blorp* to pass before continuing, waxing over your moon-sized tummy to the halfway point. Things were only getting easier from here on.
As if the situation itself wasn’t unnerving enough, it was frightening how smoothly the creature engulfed the remainder of your largest section. An audible *G L u n k* announced the passing of the belly baton as you sank back like the drop of a rollercoaster. Now their muzzle nudged at your head. Wasn't this whole process supposed to be slower? Their neck hardly put up any resistance at all compared to the first half of your bulk! Wait, why are you feeling slightly disappointed at this rug pull to your expectations? Goodness the air up here feels chilly when the rest of you is slathered in warm saliva…
*Ha-lurchk*
This was the last stop. What little outside light there was now only existed to silhouette the jowls letterboxing your vision. That devious tongue rose like a wave, crashing over your snout with a splat before pushing back, back, down into the folds of gullet drawing over your eyes in a curtain call. Slick esophageal muscles undulated on all sides, filling your eardrums with the sounds of stirring wet pumpkin innards. Everything was chokingly close in here. Swallowing became labored for both participants; the hose itself was having some setbacks from the double-sleeved clenching walls as it had to rely on sheer buildup pressure to pack into your gullets.
*Sqwlurch*
By the time the sphincter began climbing the back of your skull, you almost welcomed it. Anything to get some relief from this level of claustrophobia, even if the next chamber was only marginally better. Peaking your noggin, one final gulp sent the fleshy ring smoothly over your snout and finalizing your plummet into the beast’s belly. It was… surprisingly roomy here. Yes, you could sense every inch of your form mashed by stomach lining, but the organ itself swung and stretched accommodatingly to your movements like a hammock-sack. Could be a cozy place to rest if not for- *gllrrugle* - that. A new fluid, different from the copious volumes of saliva, formed a tangible pool around the knee and toe level. Given general knowledge of how basic anatomy works, the tingling which seeped between your scale layer and penetrated the skin did not come as a shock. More that it didn’t hurt? At least not yet. Wasn’t acid supposed to burn?
*C r r r e a k*
A sharp twinge of discomfort jolted across your midsection. You’d nearly forgotten the other half of the circumstances. Muzzle stuck at a vertical parallel to the upper slope of this belly, the feed tube resumed its pace once there was only one throat at a time to compete with again. And while your host may have possessed a spacious elastic gut at such a size, this trait was faltering on your end. Without a doubt, digestion was the end of the line. But bursting before then? There was a new concept.
*Glumpk*
Far from impossible however, as what must have been your five-hundredth swallow refused to go any further. Simply too full, this dose rebelled against the will of the hose and sat stubbornly at the base of your passage. Five hundred and one. Your neck widened, bloating and spreading across your clavicle. Some fought its way back up onto your tongue, but where would it go? Those gut walls helpfully acted as an extra seal for keeping it in after all. But you couldn’t swallow on your own unless you wanted a premature end! Another serving entered, neck bulging and taut as it rose to the back of your jaw. Your body tried valiantly to persevere, to churn the dammed up lake in the face of two inevitable dooms. The heft surged from your sides as it turned to fat, but not quick enough to outpace the spreading tingle of enzymes or that thinning hide.
*gllrreeaak*
No more. That extraordinarily stuffed body experienced a tremor, muscles quivering as your gullet gave up on its resistance right as it touched the back of your head. Yet the swollen mass did not retreat, instead taking the opportunity to push against that scaly noggin for one last shunt of slurry down into your stuffed-stiff stomach until an angry growl howled from within-
o°• GGRBbLHURSSSH .° •o○
What you don’t see is your captor’s enormous abdomen from the outside as it goes from a misshapen, protuberant cargo sack of partially shadowed prey to a muffled splash causing it to burgeon out briefly. Some seconds later it took the shape of a sagging, sloshing globe of satiation. Its owner clicked a remote and the tube withdrew, chased by a throat-rattling belch and empty harness straps.
Because it's in a second-person POV I usually try to keep species specifics uncertain for readers' imagination, but the prey here definitely is described with some manner of scales because that's just what happens when I'm left to my own devices.
[LOG: Excerpt taken from random unencrypted conversation over communication network]
“Do you think thoughts?”
“Perhaps. Often things like ‘Is this too big for me that if I tried and failed to eat it, I would be in a sour position?’ Yes. Otherwise I let intuition decide at a glance and go right ahead.”
“I see. Personally, I don’t think. I just do.”
“That’s how you end up churning.”
“I mean, I’ve started mulching people too! It’s actually quite nice if you don’t guilt trip yourself. But stewing in a gut is also fun.”
“If you’re too headstrong with the 'eat or be eaten' motto, then before you know it…”
You've been hooked up to a feeding machine with heavy bulges of sweet nutrient paste glorping down the hose, eyes following the mass intently until they cross and you spy the nozzle snugly attached to your maw with a strap. No other options than to swallow, sending the dense caloric glob down your gullet, weighing down a belly that if you could even move your head, you'd have sworn it was bumping your knees already. How long were you unconscious for? When did this even happen, what had you been doing last? Only now do the 'thoughts' course through your mind too little too late, but are pushed away with the next serving of unidentifiable flavory sludge spilling into your jowls. Somewhere, out of the edge of your peripheral vision, you barely catch a glimpse of... something. Whatever, or whoever that may be, you get the innate sense they're smiling at the display. Especially when you hear the unmistakable bellow of a stomach nearby that is not your own.
The room's lighting dims, from a general brightness you hadn't noticed until it was a low yellow, as if through a dusty lampshade with a bulb overdue for a change. Colors become muted, shapes visible but difficult to parse detail. A clawtip draws across the turgid scales of your abdomen, administering a light squeeze here and there as the fatty concoction sloshes within. You'd try to move your head again to catch a look at your captor, but the bulky, canvas-reinforced feed hose and harness holds you in place. Still, your attempt does not go unnoticed. A click sounds to your left, followed by a whirring above as a panel lowers several feet before you- a mirror.
Look at yourself. Swollen, sagging belly, spaces appearing betwixt abdominal scales where sensitive underskin bulges with fullness. Your cute little expression, decorated with worry with what little is visible past the hose and bloated cheeks. *Glurp*
That reminds you to swallow again. Odd, being able to watch the lump of paste form under your chin and pass deeper into your gullet before vanishing at the clavicle. The rotund mass you'd call your stomach surged just a little more.
As the claw travels up your flank, a perverse thrill of pleasure follows in its wake. Only then are you aware of your arms strapped behind you, embedded in back fat as each limb is cushioned with flaps of their own. The hand makes sure you're aware: a light pinch here, a small dig between the pudges of an armpit there, finished with all digits spreading, tracing the back of your skull. Scritch-scratching the base of your ears and peaking the forehead, it stopped at your brow to where you no longer half to rely on the mirror to see the edges of the hand creep into your vision. A low breath dances over the bridge of your snout, rich with anticipation and hunger. It trails over the sides like steam from a waterfall on a brisk morning, pulled past your teeth from inhales between swallows as this new unknown flavor samples your tongue. The next *glorp* of slurry quickly washes it away.
That body of yours groans and gurgles louder now, yet complaints of the immense fullness fall on deaf ears. Almost. Their hand withdraws, now sliding along the slope of your spine. A second joins, doodling lazy loops until reaching your blossoming flanks, palming and kneading the pendulous burden. They sink deep, passing any available plump between alternating fingers, thumbing newly forming layers of bulk as they settle on your frame, both sides descending lower before hefting great heaps of tum and dropping it with a deep *guh-lorp*. Gas bubbles fight their way to form an unreleased belch, pressed back into your roiling, distending gut from this endless outflow.
Climbing the swell of your body, the grips crossed to your waistline with a brief rub then down rump, thighs, clasping at hanging ankles and bringing them up, up, nearly horizontal as your backend vanished in the mirror’s display. As far as your eyes could tell, this dim glow was all which separated you from the consuming darkness. It lingered at the light’s border, shadows lapping at your curves. Wetness lapping at-
*SchLorK*
A slick stocking of flesh pinned your feet together as if the current bindings weren’t enough. Your heart would have leapt into your throat were it not for the next huge gulp from the feed tube driving it back, followed by a similar *glurk* as the warmth scaled your calves. For a moment you’d forgotten struggling was an option no matter how futile, the previous massage distracting from such a concept. Straps creaked and chains clinked somewhere above as you jerked and wriggled with what little control remained, trying to swing your feet back out of the invisible maw, but without a solid brace your body teetered back from inertia and sank further. And judging by the strength of those muscles clenching down, you weren’t coming back out.
*Gluck*
It wasn’t clear if that sound was your body or theirs. A displaced air pocket crept past your thigh as their jaw eclipsed your hips, tucking both tail and ripening rear into that cramped, damp passage. How that mouth and neck held such mass without biting was beyond belief, but with the grotesque shape it must’ve made, perhaps it was a good thing your devourer’s identity remained obscured by dusk.
*Slorkp*
You could really do without the noises too, but any complaints were hushed by the unending fattening paste. Sometimes it felt like your consumer was playing it up with the volume just for your sake, but then again, shoveling down a plus-sized-and-growing meal was a viable excuse. Teeth grazed your tush, drawing across your twin hills while a tongue teased along your underswell and inciting involuntary squirming from your bound figure. Working their way over this engorged expanse and occasionally sliding between nooks and crannies of widening scales, every gulp you took sent a ripple of growth which sank the layer of blubber against the predator’s maw on its own. Ever the gracious host, they patiently waited for each *blorp* to pass before continuing, waxing over your moon-sized tummy to the halfway point. Things were only getting easier from here on.
As if the situation itself wasn’t unnerving enough, it was frightening how smoothly the creature engulfed the remainder of your largest section. An audible *G L u n k* announced the passing of the belly baton as you sank back like the drop of a rollercoaster. Now their muzzle nudged at your head. Wasn't this whole process supposed to be slower? Their neck hardly put up any resistance at all compared to the first half of your bulk! Wait, why are you feeling slightly disappointed at this rug pull to your expectations? Goodness the air up here feels chilly when the rest of you is slathered in warm saliva…
*Ha-lurchk*
This was the last stop. What little outside light there was now only existed to silhouette the jowls letterboxing your vision. That devious tongue rose like a wave, crashing over your snout with a splat before pushing back, back, down into the folds of gullet drawing over your eyes in a curtain call. Slick esophageal muscles undulated on all sides, filling your eardrums with the sounds of stirring wet pumpkin innards. Everything was chokingly close in here. Swallowing became labored for both participants; the hose itself was having some setbacks from the double-sleeved clenching walls as it had to rely on sheer buildup pressure to pack into your gullets.
*Sqwlurch*
By the time the sphincter began climbing the back of your skull, you almost welcomed it. Anything to get some relief from this level of claustrophobia, even if the next chamber was only marginally better. Peaking your noggin, one final gulp sent the fleshy ring smoothly over your snout and finalizing your plummet into the beast’s belly. It was… surprisingly roomy here. Yes, you could sense every inch of your form mashed by stomach lining, but the organ itself swung and stretched accommodatingly to your movements like a hammock-sack. Could be a cozy place to rest if not for- *gllrrugle* - that. A new fluid, different from the copious volumes of saliva, formed a tangible pool around the knee and toe level. Given general knowledge of how basic anatomy works, the tingling which seeped between your scale layer and penetrated the skin did not come as a shock. More that it didn’t hurt? At least not yet. Wasn’t acid supposed to burn?
*C r r r e a k*
A sharp twinge of discomfort jolted across your midsection. You’d nearly forgotten the other half of the circumstances. Muzzle stuck at a vertical parallel to the upper slope of this belly, the feed tube resumed its pace once there was only one throat at a time to compete with again. And while your host may have possessed a spacious elastic gut at such a size, this trait was faltering on your end. Without a doubt, digestion was the end of the line. But bursting before then? There was a new concept.
*Glumpk*
Far from impossible however, as what must have been your five-hundredth swallow refused to go any further. Simply too full, this dose rebelled against the will of the hose and sat stubbornly at the base of your passage. Five hundred and one. Your neck widened, bloating and spreading across your clavicle. Some fought its way back up onto your tongue, but where would it go? Those gut walls helpfully acted as an extra seal for keeping it in after all. But you couldn’t swallow on your own unless you wanted a premature end! Another serving entered, neck bulging and taut as it rose to the back of your jaw. Your body tried valiantly to persevere, to churn the dammed up lake in the face of two inevitable dooms. The heft surged from your sides as it turned to fat, but not quick enough to outpace the spreading tingle of enzymes or that thinning hide.
*gllrreeaak*
No more. That extraordinarily stuffed body experienced a tremor, muscles quivering as your gullet gave up on its resistance right as it touched the back of your head. Yet the swollen mass did not retreat, instead taking the opportunity to push against that scaly noggin for one last shunt of slurry down into your stuffed-stiff stomach until an angry growl howled from within-
o°• GGRBbLHURSSSH .° •o○
What you don’t see is your captor’s enormous abdomen from the outside as it goes from a misshapen, protuberant cargo sack of partially shadowed prey to a muffled splash causing it to burgeon out briefly. Some seconds later it took the shape of a sagging, sloshing globe of satiation. Its owner clicked a remote and the tube withdrew, chased by a throat-rattling belch and empty harness straps.
Category Story / Vore
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 128.9 kB
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