Its Over, I Made A Vore Blog

NSFW! Minors don't interact! 25 - He/him

[forcewild]

humans are literally begging you to eat them. like do you see how many people are into vore? how about all the ones who are into snuff?

this is your sign, fellow creatures. its time to go and hunt down that human and EAT THEM! they love it so much, they literally get off on it!

[voreenjoyer2025]

The chase has gone on and on. Where one would feel tired, you feel thrill and acceleration. You are after your prize. As if the universe was telling you that you earned it, they tripped. It looks like the air got knocked out of them on impact with the ground. “All that running… just to end up in the same place”. You rubbed your growling tummy as if to tell it “down, boy, you’ll get your treat soon”, not that it would listen to you.

Meanwhile, your prey shakes furiously. They have the right to be scared. They know where they’re going. “Shh”, you try assuring them. You stroke their cheek. The shaking slows a little. They might be confused by your gesture, understandably.

You lift them up and hold them close to you. They’re like a motionless doll. They slowly lift their arms and put their hands on your back. They might have thought your intentions innocent. The rumbling from your body against theirs gave it away though. They went back to flailing about in your arms. You chuckle at their effort. Granted your arms give a little leeway but not enough to take your grasp of them off.

“Heh, nice try. But all good things must come to an end”, you comment. You gape your mouth open and show them where they’re going. They’re fighting so hard in your arms but it’s no use! Closer and closer until you start licking their face and muffle their screams. Further into your mouth and their head is soon engulfed. The sweat down their face and neck enhances their taste.

It also helps as a lubricant for shoving them further down your throat. They try to press against your shoulders but you’re still holding them up. It’s actually easier to raise them above to give them a descent into you as you press their upper arms against their sides. Gulp, gulp. Their shoulders start to disappear. Another swallow and their midsection starts to go down. Down, down, down into your awaiting stomach. As you start sending their lower body, you’re guessing after the shoulders does your prey start to fill out your insides. Just the kicking legs now. It’s easier for you to let them tire themselves out at this point and let gravity do its thing. Gulp, gulp, gulp! The outline of their legs go down your neck until they fade into your expanding belly.

That last swallow is always the hardest for you. The weight of you and now your prey forcibly knocks you to the ground. It keeps you off your toes, literally. Your little passenger felt that inside as well. You rub your belly around their form. “You alright in there?” you inquire. You feel them crawling around like they’re trying to find something. Maybe they’re trying to tell up from down. Then they started punching. I press my hand against them, “alright, alright! Geez.” You know they were hitting you out of either desperation or hatred given their situation. You lift yourself up, holding your belly to you as well as the prey inside. “Listen, you’re trapped. It’s cute you’re trying to fight but c’mon. There’s no getting outa this one.” 

They stopped, heeding your advice. You start walking. They move a little but not much. You rub your tummy where you believe their back and top of their head are, as if to reward them for being an easier prey now. You know your stomach walls are squeezing them. You don’t know how they feel about that but you’re trying to smooth it out for them. After all, they didn’t choose this situation. Technically you did. You didn’t choose to be hungry but here we are.

[del-eatme]

What if I were tiny and someone found me and kept me captive to observe me and learn about tinies?

They keep me in a box and from time to time take me out to catalogue everything about me. How light I am in their palm. How much I shake when their face draws close. How easy it if for them to immobilize me with just their fingers.

Eventually, they start to wonder what I taste like...

They sometimes catch whiffs of my natural scent up close and I can see their mouth start to water in curiosity. They start with small (for them) licks before they lose patience and eventually encase me in their mouth. I'm tossed around their mouth for hours while they take note of every flinch, whimper, and shove at their tongue as it bats me around. It goes on so long that my head is hazy and my body is exhausted. It would be so easy for them to swallow me...

And then I'm spat out into a palm, their saliva chilling me at the abrupt change in temperature. They roughly clean me with a rag and I am tossed back into my box to dread what comes tomorrow.

[iwasisabelle]

you ever read the most weird but hot vore scenario then after you cum remember that the average person wouldnt even begin to think of eating someone

[theblackcandyheart]

Picture this: being hunted down by a pack.

What was supposed to be an ordinary hike quickly became a fight for survival. A pack of hungry monsters happened to be prowling the area... and you? Their next meal.

The pack's hunting strategy is well coordinated, but it's also cutthroat. Whoever catches you first has dibs on you, able to do whatever they want, and not a single member of the pack wants to go hungry. You're chased relentlessly for hours, being flushed out of hiding spots and chased through foliage. You know, deep down, that this won't last. There's only one of you, and many more of them. Who will tire out first? You... or the pack?

The sun is setting by the time you find your next hiding spot, tucked away under some rocks near a waterfall. This is a very, VERY tricky spot, though. You're hidden... but you've also got yourself backed into a corner here. If one of them finds you... it's over.

Under the sounds of the waterfall, you hear something faint: thumping. Is it a figment of your imagination, or is one of those preds getting closer? Oh, god, please just let it be a deer or something-

Just a few moments later, a pred gallops into view, and then skids to a stop. This one looks like the leader of the pack; he's the biggest one, with the sharpest teeth and claws, and the most muscles. He must be the most successful hunter, given his size...

For a tense moment, you stay completely still. Maybe if you don't move, he won't notice you. Maybe the waterfall masks your scent. Maybe-

His head snaps towards your direction, and you meet each other's gaze. Then, after a second, a wide, fanged smile slowly splits his face, and a deep, punctuated growl sounds from his middle.

You've lost.

[del-eatme]

Ok hear me out.

Tiny prey on a table surrounded by a group of preds. Batted around like a toy and manhandled and inspected. Pushed around to test their strength. The prey ends up with bruises forming all over. The prey might be scooped up to have their aroma sampled by one, a tiny lick from another to taste-test, a little nibble from giant teeth of yet another. Every attempt at escape is met with a giant palm catching them and placing them right back where they started. The preds casually describe what the prey tastes like to them, how they would eat the them, making them more and more terrified with each description. Some want to slurp them up whole while others want it a bit more messy. Their tears are locked from their cheeks almost as fast as they appear. The prey appears more and more tired and haggard as time goes on.

There is one that stays mostly silent, however, one that is a little less enthusiastic than the rest. The prey keeps meeting their eyes unintentionally while being sampled and toyed with by the other preds. This one doesn't partake in the games, and instead hangs back, patiently. Its gaze is longing but not greedy.

Finally, the time comes that the other preds grow bored and decide that the festivities have come to an end. The low sounds of several grumbling stomachs echo around the room. It's time.

The teasing stops and the pushy hands and greedy tongues pull back for a brief reprieve, but not for long.

Each pred lowers their chins to the table and shows off their teeth, teasing with licks to their lips. The unspoken leader of the group tells the prey they must now choose which will consume them. It's only fair, since they cornered and caught you as a group. Nobody gets priority over the others. The prey's heart beats faster and faster as each pred lazily shows off their maws, glistening teeth and twitchy tongues waiting impatiently for something to swallow. The only one without theatrics is that one pred from before, the one who held back. That pred's mouth barely opens, but the prey can see sharp teeth the length of one of their arms and the occasional shine of a wet tongue maneuvering deeper in.

The prey can only think to choose the one with the most restraint. If they are to be eaten, they want to be consumed by the one who was the most gentle to them.

The prey hesitantly steps closer to the gentle pred. The group has fallen silent in anticipation and sharp eyes watch your every move. The chosen pred seems pleasantly surprised when it seems that they have been selected. A small smile curls their lips upward. When the prey reaches the pred's face, close enough to touch them if they wanted, they spend a moment locking eyes. Irises the size of dinner places take them in, and somehow, calm the prey. They can't describe it, but the way the pred looks at the prey settles something inside them. They prey knows there's not coming back from this. They will be a meal. Nothing in a few hours. A strange amount of trust takes hold. Trust in the pred that they will take care of them, savor them, be careful with them. Make good use of them.

The pred, noticing the growing impatience of the group, decided to move this along. The pred then slowly opens their jaws and lays out their tongue over their teeth to the table like a red carpet. The prey chokes down on a sob at the sight, at the expectation, but a quick glance behind them reveals worse fates, endings with blood and bone, and they refocus on what's in front of them.

The prey ever so slowly lifts a foot and places it lightly on the saliva-coated tongue. Testing the give. Once they are stable, the other foot comes next. They can feel the tastebuds between their toes. Their hands come up to grip brilliant white teeth for stability. They take a few more hesitant steps before the saliva becomes more prevalent and they slip, falling face-first into the tongue, instantly soaking their entire front. Laughter comes from behind and they prey is reminded they are a spectacle. Before the prey can right themselves, the tongue they occupy curls around them and is retracted into the warm, wet cave of the pred's mouth. The jaws slowly close, making sure all of the prey is contained to avoid an accidental bite.

The rest of the world disappears and the only things the prey can hear are the wet, organic sounds of a body. The tongue under them slowly rises to meet the roof of the mouth, compressing the prey between them. The tongue squeezes and rolls underneath the prey. Tasting them, they realize. That's right, this one didn't get to sample them. They're taking their turn now. The tongue eventually gets a bit more active, flipping them around every which way, but still staying ever so gentle. Slow movements and cushioned impacts. The prey is absolutely drenched and exhausted after a few minutes of active tasting. They don't even realize how far back in the mouth they've been moved until light shines upon their face.

The last thing they prey sees in the light of day are the faces of the other preds, some looking very jealous and drooling with hunger, others smirking at the enjoyment of the chosen pred. The view is framed by teeth and the flesh of cheeks. After a moment, the tongue they lay on bucks up, the flesh shifts and tightens. The prey is gulped down with a loud sound and becomes nothing more than a bulge slowly slipping down into the pred's chest. Once the prey passes the windpipe, they can hear and feel a sigh of relief as they travel deeper and deeper into the wet darkness. They are eventually deposited into a tight space full of undulating muscles. They know where they are now, and what will happen to them here. Groaning accompanied by a squeezing wave confirms it. This stomach is hungry, and they are the reprieve. They are nothing but food for a creature as great as this. More tears slowly leak down their face and mix with the saliva and other liquids occupying the stomach that are contained in. They settle in for the long haul, slowly breathing the quickly-staling air, and wait to digest.

They prey occasionally feels their prison jolt with impact or compress with pressure. On the outside, the pred's friends tease them with a slap or a squeeze to their belly. The pred bats their hands away, however, to smoothly run their hands over their slightly protruding belly, barely noticeable. The pred spends the rest of the night focusing on the slight movements of their prey. They aren't struggling, no, they accepted reality a long time ago, but each shift of their body brings a whisper of pleasure to the pred. This doesn't last forever, though, and eventually those movements cease around the same time their stomach kicks into high gear. The pred sits back and relaxes, mentally thanking the prey for choosing them, and hoping that they were able to give them a gentle consumption.

The pred barely pays attention around them, lost in digestive bliss, until a shrill yelp pulls them back to reality. In the center of the table is another prey. This one feistier than the last. He sees the grins of the other preds around him and knows it'll be a long night.

[del-eatme]

Ok hear me out.

Tiny prey on a table surrounded by a group of preds. Batted around like a toy and manhandled and inspected. Pushed around to test their strength. The prey ends up with bruises forming all over. The prey might be scooped up to have their aroma sampled by one, a tiny lick from another to taste-test, a little nibble from giant teeth of yet another. Every attempt at escape is met with a giant palm catching them and placing them right back where they started. The preds casually describe what the prey tastes like to them, how they would eat the them, making them more and more terrified with each description. Some want to slurp them up whole while others want it a bit more messy. Their tears are locked from their cheeks almost as fast as they appear. The prey appears more and more tired and haggard as time goes on.

There is one that stays mostly silent, however, one that is a little less enthusiastic than the rest. The prey keeps meeting their eyes unintentionally while being sampled and toyed with by the other preds. This one doesn't partake in the games, and instead hangs back, patiently. Its gaze is longing but not greedy.

Finally, the time comes that the other preds grow bored and decide that the festivities have come to an end. The low sounds of several grumbling stomachs echo around the room. It's time.

The teasing stops and the pushy hands and greedy tongues pull back for a brief reprieve, but not for long.

Each pred lowers their chins to the table and shows off their teeth, teasing with licks to their lips. The unspoken leader of the group tells the prey they must now choose which will consume them. It's only fair, since they cornered and caught you as a group. Nobody gets priority over the others. The prey's heart beats faster and faster as each pred lazily shows off their maws, glistening teeth and twitchy tongues waiting impatiently for something to swallow. The only one without theatrics is that one pred from before, the one who held back. That pred's mouth barely opens, but the prey can see sharp teeth the length of one of their arms and the occasional shine of a wet tongue maneuvering deeper in.

The prey can only think to choose the one with the most restraint. If they are to be eaten, they want to be consumed by the one who was the most gentle to them.

The prey hesitantly steps closer to the gentle pred. The group has fallen silent in anticipation and sharp eyes watch your every move. The chosen pred seems pleasantly surprised when it seems that they have been selected. A small smile curls their lips upward. When the prey reaches the pred's face, close enough to touch them if they wanted, they spend a moment locking eyes. Irises the size of dinner places take them in, and somehow, calm the prey. They can't describe it, but the way the pred looks at the prey settles something inside them. They prey knows there's not coming back from this. They will be a meal. Nothing in a few hours. A strange amount of trust takes hold. Trust in the pred that they will take care of them, savor them, be careful with them. Make good use of them.

The pred, noticing the growing impatience of the group, decided to move this along. The pred then slowly opens their jaws and lays out their tongue over their teeth to the table like a red carpet. The prey chokes down on a sob at the sight, at the expectation, but a quick glance behind them reveals worse fates, endings with blood and bone, and they refocus on what's in front of them.

The prey ever so slowly lifts a foot and places it lightly on the saliva-coated tongue. Testing the give. Once they are stable, the other foot comes next. They can feel the tastebuds between their toes. Their hands come up to grip brilliant white teeth for stability. They take a few more hesitant steps before the saliva becomes more prevalent and they slip, falling face-first into the tongue, instantly soaking their entire front. Laughter comes from behind and they prey is reminded they are a spectacle. Before the prey can right themselves, the tongue they occupy curls around them and is retracted into the warm, wet cave of the pred's mouth. The jaws slowly close, making sure all of the prey is contained to avoid an accidental bite.

The rest of the world disappears and the only things the prey can hear are the wet, organic sounds of a body. The tongue under them slowly rises to meet the roof of the mouth, compressing the prey between them. The tongue squeezes and rolls underneath the prey. Tasting them, they realize. That's right, this one didn't get to sample them. They're taking their turn now. The tongue eventually gets a bit more active, flipping them around every which way, but still staying ever so gentle. Slow movements and cushioned impacts. The prey is absolutely drenched and exhausted after a few minutes of active tasting. They don't even realize how far back in the mouth they've been moved until light shines upon their face.

The last thing they prey sees in the light of day are the faces of the other preds, some looking very jealous and drooling with hunger, others smirking at the enjoyment of the chosen pred. The view is framed by teeth and the flesh of cheeks. After a moment, the tongue they lay on bucks up, the flesh shifts and tightens. The prey is gulped down with a loud sound and becomes nothing more than a bulge slowly slipping down into the pred's chest. Once the prey passes the windpipe, they can hear and feel a sigh of relief as they travel deeper and deeper into the wet darkness. They are eventually deposited into a tight space full of undulating muscles. They know where they are now, and what will happen to them here. Groaning accompanied by a squeezing wave confirms it. This stomach is hungry, and they are the reprieve. They are nothing but food for a creature as great as this. More tears slowly leak down their face and mix with the saliva and other liquids occupying the stomach that are contained in. They settle in for the long haul, slowly breathing the quickly-staling air, and wait to digest.

They prey occasionally feels their prison jolt with impact or compress with pressure. On the outside, the pred's friends tease them with a slap or a squeeze to their belly. The pred bats their hands away, however, to smoothly run their hands over their slightly protruding belly, barely noticeable. The pred spends the rest of the night focusing on the slight movements of their prey. They aren't struggling, no, they accepted reality a long time ago, but each shift of their body brings a whisper of pleasure to the pred. This doesn't last forever, though, and eventually those movements cease around the same time their stomach kicks into high gear. The pred sits back and relaxes, mentally thanking the prey for choosing them, and hoping that they were able to give them a gentle consumption.

The pred barely pays attention around them, lost in digestive bliss, until a shrill yelp pulls them back to reality. In the center of the table is another prey. This one feistier than the last. He sees the grins of the other preds around him and knows it'll be a long night.

[sinfromlokislair]

Hnnng a pred lying on their back and taking a nap after consuming their prey, their belly resting atop them comfortably, occasionally twitching and shifting as their prey tries to escape, tries to struggle a bit more, and slowly settles, understanding they’re not getting out. The preds belly rising and falling with their breaths, a bit of drool wetting their pillow as they snooze. After an hour of stewing their belly is fairly noisy and soft looking, though if they shift or move the food inside will come alive, poking and squirming for a bit, sending small waves across the flesh, before settling back in and becoming still again.

[leckerkat]

Ugh would really enjoy getting toyed with in a bigger preds mouth? Just getting rolled around with that tongue, pushed against a cheek or palate and rubbed- against the surface.. Getting suckled on while being surrounded by the low moans of the pred as they enjoy me? It’ll become idle after awhile, just casually prodding with that slimy tongue- until I’m smushed against that palate again and sliding to the back of that mouth where I’ll be effortlessly gulped down. Squeezed into a tight gullet, letting that smooth muscle pull me in until I can curl up in a gurgling stomach? Gooey and soft and warm and can feel the pred massaging their waist- feeling around and giving a deep sigh of delight. Even a gentle burp would squeeze me tight and rumble through those sticky, fleshy walls..

God I’m trash. I’m so sorry

[v0rever-deactivated20250828]

You silly prey like to think that you can somehow implement safety measures against preds. You're so cute. Deluded, misguided, and pathetic, yes, but cute.

You'll wear extra layers, as if indigestion is any real concern, or you'll douse yourselves in perfumes and lotions, all in a vain attempt to dissuade us from gulping you down like the food you are. Newsflash, little prey, all you're doing is making yourself more appealing! Who doesn't love extra toppings on their sundae?

You can link arms with another piece of food, trying to make it more difficult to swallow you both down, but the struggle only makes it more fun! And a two-for-one special is nothing to snub, either.

Don't you get it? Your struggles only serve to make the taste of you more succulent, more savory. The sense of pride when we catch one of you awnery little prey is rivaled only by the wonderful sensation of feeling your writhing, struggling form pressing out against us from the inside. You're never getting out, so why don't you just settle in, hmm?

But it really is adorable that you put so much effort into your evasion. It's sweet, really, to know that we are - that I am - on your mind constantly. Your every waking thought is fixated upon the figures looming around every corner, the maws waiting agape to swallow you whole and send you into oblivion inside hungry, growling bellies. It's flattering that you dedicate so much of your frivolous, mundane lives to fretting over us, all the way to the point of becoming a permanent part of ours, even if just as ass fat or a little extra flab on our bellies or tits.

You can deny it all you'd like, pretend that secretly you don't crave the concept of throwing yourselves down our eager throats and into our stomachs. You can claim you'd never want that, try to reason that your life has far more value than to be food, but you and I both know you're lying to yourselves. It's okay though! Cheer up little prey. In a world full of so much uncertainty, at least one thing is set in stone - you and I both know where you'll end up in the end, and if it's not my belly, there's plenty of other sharks in the sea, and darling, it's a feeding frenzy out there.

[ediblefuck]

a little tug-o-vore. being between two preds, one with your arms in their mouth, the other your legs. whoever has the thickest, most powerful swallows gets the prize (you)!

[theblackcandyheart]

Opinions on preds that are gods? Where the prey being chosen to be devoured by their deity is a huge honour. They get to directly fuel their god's sacred powers, do if course the painful digestion and early death are sorth it!

I have a concept like this in my notes, but it's just with my OCs. Aside from that, though, I LOVEEEE this concept a lot. I love the idea of a goddess, protecting the lands, all the villages. She just has one requirement: One lady, delivered to her every year. Nobody knows what happens to these women, but they're never seen again.

So the chosen lady is sacrificed; tied up, and left out in a field, on top of a large slate. It's quite scary, quite daunting, and after a while, the lady even wonders if the goddess is real... Until finally, she takes form in front of the mortal woman. She's tall, with a lot of non-human characteristics; fluffy, feathered wings, a longish, prehensile tail covered in fur with a tuft at the end, clawed hands, white fur covering most of her body... Her face, though, seems to be the most human-like aspect of her - until it very much isn't.

The goddess grabs her sacrifice and whisks her away, taking her somewhere private. The goddess doesn't waste any time with pleasantries; why talk to your dinner, afterall? Instead, she opens her mouth scarily wide, and she devours the mortal in just a few thick gulps. She's careful not to puncture the lady's skin - mortals are so fragile, afterall - and once she's done, she lets out a sigh, curling up and purring happily over her meal.

Of course... The mortal is less than thrilled about this. Being consumed isn't fun. It's no walk in the park, either. A goddess' stomach is all-powerful, churning and working quickly to break down its meal. And yet... This task is such an important one, and the mortal doesn't want to upset her goddess. She protects everyone and everything in the land, right? So... Instead of trying to struggle and squirm, the lady curls up, shivering and whimpering.

The goddess isn't heartless, though... She hears the whimpering, and she rubs her belly with a clawed hand gently.

"Shh, it will all be over soon, sweet thing," She coos gently. The goddess loves her people, her land, her job... And these women give her the energy she needs to keep going, so she loves them. It's just a shame that the poor things have to suffer to give the goddess what she needs.

[theblackcandyheart]

Grabbing a little preything by its tail. Smirking at them as they helplessly squirm and writhe mid-air. I admire the tenacity, really, I do, but let's face the reality - They're not going to escape so easily.

Taking a deep breath, I blow a puff of smoke in their face. At first, their face scrunches up, as if annoyed by this... But then, their muscles go lax, and the fight completely leaves their body. They go brainless, the way a preything should be.

I open my mouth, slowly lowering them in. As I do, the prey giggles a little and nuzzles their nose into my cheek. I chuckle a little and coo softly at them. How can I not? I have a soft spot for such little cuties, whether they're willing or not.

The process is fast. Once I have my jaws around them, I swallow quickly. My pheromones will be wearing off soon, so I have to be fast. In just a few swallows, my meal is settled in my gut, curling up tightly. I can feel them purring and nuzzling into me, which pulls another soft coo from me. Lovingly, I rub my stomach with one hand, and with the other, I idly pick at my teeth.

In a few minutes, my smoky pheromones wear off. My gut goes still for a moment... And then, it comes to life, thrashing wildly as my prey struggles. They scream for help, but their voice is heavily muffled. My tail curls in, and I let out another soft coo, prodding my stomach. A strained gurgle sounds in response.

"Don't worry, little darling... I'll take good care of you," I murmur, lovingly running a hand over my stomach.

[nombitenary]

Spelunking.

Super short (2.5K) self indulgent story of a borrower!you getting caught by Christopher and swallowed up <3 Maybe bring better equipment next time you try borrowing from a maneater...

G/t, ambiguous ending, rope play in the throat, and mentions of fatal <3 enjoy!

You can’t believe you got caught.

The man who lives in the apartment you’ve been borrowing from is home so rarely that you suppose you’ve gotten careless. After all, he’s never around to hear your heavy footsteps on the counters or the scrabbling of clumsy hands against drawers. His two cats are easy enough to maneuver around as well, seeing as one of them is trained well enough to not go on the counter, and to scream at the other one whenever it gets the bright idea of chasing you along the countertop. 

You’d been testing your new rope, tying it to all manner of things in the kitchen and letting yourself be slowly lowered off the edges of drawers, tables, counters… and hadn’t been bothering to keep your laughter at your successes quiet, nor the thuds of your tiny boots as you’d climbed up the edges of his walls and cabinets. 

Everything had been going so well that you’d somehow missed the sound of the bedroom door opening and the light in the hallway, and by the time you realized that something was amiss… was only due to clawed fingers wrapping around your waist and a soft coo of: “Oh, what do we have here?”

And now, here you are, dangling between his fingers from the rope you’d thought had been such a clever tool to get around the maze of his apartment. You can’t bring yourself to speak as you stare up at him meekly, the light reflecting off his glasses making his eyes seem cold and far away- near impossible to read. 

He hasn’t spoken since his initial greeting, if you can even call it that. All he’s done is stare at you with that coldness in his eyes, almost as if he’s calculating something- blinking every now and again, though it does nothing to set your mind at ease. If anything, it makes you feel worse, and when he opens his lips and finally speaks to you properly-

“Well. You should fit. This should be interesting.”

-it does nothing to calm your nerves. 

Before you can ask him what he means, the air is forced out of your lungs by him tugging on your little rope, effortlessly and haphazardly lifting you into the air above his face and leaving you to stare down at him in terrified disbelief. You’ve never met this human before, but from what you’ve gathered, there’s nothing too horrible about him. 

With your lower lip trembling, you look down into his deep brown eyes, searching for any trace of a joke or flickers of sympathy. 

What you receive in return is a toothy smirk. One that plays out almost in slow motion, leaving you helpless to watch as his lips curl away from his teeth, showing the gleaming, drool-slicked and sharp points lining his gums. Your heart starts racing at the sight of them, and again, you try to find your words- but you’re once again interrupted by something terrifying. 

Those teeth were bad enough on their own, but as you stare down at Christopher’s freckled face… they begin to part. 

A warm blast of air rises from the chasm opening beneath you and you find yourself unable to look away as the huge muscle of his tongue shifts- easily the size of a small mattress and just as cushioned- moving from one side of the pink and dripping cavern to the other. The surface of it flexes in waves, and you follow the muscle back toward the darkest pit in the back of his jaws- marked by a swinging uvula and a streamlined tunnel designed to cram anything it can fit inside down.

His throat flexes, and his whole mouth shifts at once- a mess of moving pieces and parts and flesh and teeth rearranging to allow him a soft swallow- and when it opens again, strings of drool connect the bottom of his jaws to the top like the bars of a prison cell. 

Unable to speak, your own mouth opens and closes as you watch his throat shift with his every breath, the idle motions of his tongue twitching and swaying as more and more saliva floods the cavern. 

You’re transfixed, though the spell breaks when his grip on your rope abruptly falters- sending you falling a few inches closer to the gaping maw with a scream. 

A laugh rolls over you in response, and you gasp, clutching the rope in your fingers despite the knot keeping you secure. You’re spinning now, watching the gullet beneath you pulse as you rotate, unable to keep yourself from noticing that it seems to be pulsing in anticipation, the tongue stretching out from between those lips as if to echo the sentiment. 

He’s going to eat you.

No. No, he won’t. 

Surely he won’t. 

Despite not being human, you think for a moment that you’ll be able to appeal to his sympathy, though when you manage to tear your gaze away from his maw to try looking into his eyes--

The rope slides easily through his fingers, and with a rush of air, you plummet- your scream being cut off and muffled by his tongue greeting you. It all but wraps around your sides, and you feel it constrict, pinning your arms to your torso as its owner tips his head back and allows you to fall backward into the cage of his mouth. 

You scream as the tongue folds over you greedily, drinking in your flavour and slathering you in thick saliva. The surface won’t stop moving beneath your hands- cushy and soft and speckled with taste buds that leave a faint bumpy texture pressing against your palms and fingers- though when he abruptly licks you again, you’re flipped onto your side, helpless to do anything but let his tongue squish tightly against your back. The muscle is hot and explorative, wasting no time in dragging its tip along your flailing limbs. 

Everything around you is hot and slick, but the more you fight against it, the more of his saliva seeps through your clothes, soaking your skin and causing you to slip around easily in the chasm of his mouth. A zigzag of light filtering between his teeth is the only way for you to see the warm pink of his tongue as it continues to effortlessly bat you and part of your flimsy rope around. 

It’s… so easy for him. 

So easy to treat you as nothing more than a sweet treat. You find yourself pushed against his fangs more than once, and each time, you suck in a sharp breath and wait for him to chew you to pieces- all the while trying to peer out past his lips for one more glance at the world you’re leaving behind.

You don’t get one. 

All your squirms earn you is more buffeting from the tongue, more hums of delight from the throat that you know is yawning wide behind you, but you don’t allow yourself to look at it, trying instead to drag yourself forward in the dripping mouth of the beast. You’re close. Your fingers reach the very edge of his gums and you strain to pull yourself up from his gullet even as you feel your legs brush the very edge of his throat.

A throat that twitches eagerly, the muscles there relaxing with a soft slrrrk of noise- and you yelp as you find yourself falling deeper into the squishy tube. 

“NO-”

The tongue that had been idly sloshing you around arches, filling his mouth and squeezing the air from your lungs in a strangled cry- though you don’t have time to be worried about that as you realize what the predator’s doing.

Swallowing. He’s swallowing. The gullet behind you lurches, a tiny hlrk and a bob of the muscles behind you causing you to throw your arms forward as gravity changes- but you’re too covered in saliva to get a grip on anything. Instead, you’re forced to feel his uvula drag across the back of your shoulders as he hums- the noise loud enough to make your chest feel like it’s buzzing. 

You’re squashed under his uvula entirely with another firm swallow, leaving you scrambling against the plush back of his tongue as you try to reach the swinging tab of flesh. Your fingers are tangled tightly in your rope, clutching it in utter desperation. It’s still holding fast. Still tied to something. 

You try to remember if you saw it caught between his molars or canines as you try to hoist yourself further up his gullet- barely able to even paw the backmost part of his tongue in your attempts to reach freedom. It’s still somewhat taut, taut enough that there’s hope…

…as light falls over you, you look up from the depths of his throat, for one fleeting moment allowing yourself to think that he’s about to cough you up. It must be a mistake. He seems like a kind enough man, and you shift your position slightly to see better, wiping a string of drool out of your face as a shadow falls over his jaws. 

His hand. 

And in his fingers…

No…

In his fingers, he’s lazily clutching the end of your rope. He holds it there with a soft chuckle, one that makes the throat around you ripple, before you watch his mouth start to relax as it closes for what you realize in terror is the final time.

“Wait- wait wait wait-!"

When he swallows, the walls of his throat clutch tight around you, rippling with a soft ulp that folds around you and tries to squeeze you down along with it. Your whole body jerks in place, being squashed tighter into the living tunnel before the rope pulls taut and forces you back up- which causes the muscles around you to quiver and the predator they belong to to hum. 

It’s absolutely deafening this close to his voicebox. 

You gasp as the slimy walls finally ease up, trembling at the sensation of something pressing at you from outside of your new prison. At first, you almost think you’re imagining it, but when the throat around you twitches in response to a firmer press, you realize those are fingers pressing against you from the outside. 

You can’t help but imagine yourself as a lump in Christopher’s throat. 

As you struggle harder, forcing your elbows out against the taunting squishes, in you mind’s eye, you see the small flutter of your movements settled just above his collarbone- the way you stretch the freckled skin and wriggle just beneath it- and as you tug on the rope in a desperate attempt to shimmy back up the way you came-

GLURK.

-the throat constricts tighter, and this time you can’t keep yourself from giving a yelp as you’re sucked further into Christopher’s esophagus- settled just beside his thudding heart. The walls of his gullet have grown tighter, as has the knot of the rope around your waist thanks to said walls hungrily rippling around you in an attempt to squeeze you deeper inside. Again, you struggle to haul yourself further up the rope that’s keeping you suspended in his chest. Your saliva slicked hands fumble to get a grip, and you curse yourself for not having tied too many knots in it before trying to use it out borrowing. In the pitch darkness of his throat, you can’t see much aside a very faint red- the light from outside only penetrating deep enough for you to see the faint outlines of the esophagus squeezing around you. 

Your rope is still being held snugly by the gullet’s walls, the red lifeline almost vanishing into the pulsing darkness, but you squint through the saliva running down your face just long enough to realize how far down you’ve been squeezed. Seeming miles of throat stretch above you, and a flicker of light from the top of the tunnel causes your heart to sink. On either side of you, you hear a rush of air filling your devourer’s lungs, and everything tightens as they fill with oxygen, preparing for another-

Gulp.

-for him, it must be nothing. Just soft and lazy bobs of his adam’s apple that allow your rope to fall deeper into the folds of his throat. You can almost imagine how faint the sound of him swallowing must be outside of the sweltering confines you’re in now- but you can’t quite cling to the illusion long enough to mute the disgusting squelch and ULLLLK that draw you deep enough to feel a distinct change in heat.

Heat from below you.

Heat coupled by the sound of an organic growl, and your heart grows cold despite the warmth of the predator surrounding you as you realize how close to the belly of the beast you’ve gotten.

You scramble against the soft walls, tugging on your slack rope more and more as the sound of gurgling grows louder beneath you. You can’t end up in his stomach. You won’t. You’re a borrower, you’re not-

Glmpk.

He swallows once more. 

Firmly. 

Firmly enough that you manage to look above you in terror, watching the tunnel of his throat constrict in a wave that rushes toward you in the dark, too fast for you to do anything but take a breath in before you’re squished firmly into the upper stomach sphincter. 

Then through it.

Your tiny form lands in his stomach with a wet plop.

The walls around you shudder with a gurgle of greeting, and above you, you hear a long and contented sigh breeze up from the throat you fought for your life not to get squeezed down- unable to keep yourself from envying the air for being able to get past his lips.

You’re not as lucky as the air. The stomach containing you groans in emphasis, the organ steadily starting to rock this way and that, the walls rippling inwards eagerly in what you realize are the beginnings of digestion. Your hands find the rope and you pull on it sharply, earning the sound of a muffled glp from above and the sensation of more and more of it pulling into his belly, coiling around you on the fleshy floor, gulp after gulp ushering it down, down…

The piece of yarn bobs momentarily at the back of Christopher’s throat, and it brushes the folds of flesh there as its pulled down his gullet. It isn’t fully soaked through with his saliva, not yet, and as he sits with his jaws open, he gulps, feeling it stick dryly in his throat- though he persists in his task anyway. 

With a few more short swallows, there’s no trace left of you at all. No rope dangles from between his lips. No shape wriggles in his throat, and as he trails a hand down to his comfortably full stomach… he grins at the realization that you fit so perfectly inside that you’ve completely vanished from the outside world. Not even a lump against his middle surfaces to show anyone where you’ve vanished to, and he purrs in delight, trailing his fingers over his middle and hiccuping suddenly when you squirm. 

“Oh, don’t worry.”

His voice rumbles around you, echoing over the sounds of digestion. One of the fleshy walls folds inward with a prod against you and you feel the tip of one of his claws massaging you into the lining. 

“I think I’m going to let my guts take their time with you… best get comfy in there.” 

[yourdarlingpuppy]

I LOVE when a vore is about to go down, but then it fails. Somehow its edged and cancelled. a naughty pet told to spit you out... your predator fell asleep drunk while tasting... or even worse..they let you go, confident they'll be able to catch their food again catch and release, playing cat and mouse with you over and over and over... the viscous humiliation dripping all over you, smelling like their breath. Embarrassed. Everyone heard you yelp and beg, fight or flight; and for a moment you and the predator will never be able to forget, you were bested and dominated completely into a depth of submission few survive. Because you made them hungry. Its like edgeplay impending vore. its possible you never even end up in that belly ever..

[yourdarlingpuppy]

a quick g/t since i've been thinking about this more often than not

[theblackcandyheart]

Hmm? Let you go? No... I can't do that. I'm an apex predator... A creature that needs to get ready for the coming winter. Cry if you like, but this is both out of necessity, and for my enjoyment. You're here to serve me, and me alone.

Ahh... But you sure are cute. I hate seeing you cry and squirm in my grasp. Look at me, darling. Into my swirling eyes... Thaaat's right... There you go... It works like a charm every time, hypnotized by my gaze. You've stopped squirming - good. I promise to devour you gently...

I take you in slowly, taking my time, savoring your flavor as I swallow you down. Eventually, the last of you is gliding down my throat smoothly, your outline travelling downwards... Until, finally, your journey comes to an end in my stomach. Almost immediately, a low gurgle sounds from my stomach, and I smile, affectionately kneading my squishy belly.

You'll fill out my form nicely - I'll have enough warmth and padding on my body to last the winter. And to think... It's all from a little cutie like you~ I always love cradling prey in my coils and looking into their eyes. They're so helplessly adorable when they're hypnotized and doomed to become a layer of fat on my body.