Male Vore

Male vore blog open to anything! 20, 18+, gay, nsfw, ask/requests welcome!

[malevoreenthusiast]

Heyy! Hope you had a great semester. Any plans for the summer?

Thank you! Plenty of irl stuff going on, which I’m looking forward to. As for this blog, I’d love to start writing consistently again. It’s been in a bit of a dead zone because I think with school and some mental health stuff I got really burnt out. That, or a lot of my story ideas seem to fizzle out after trying to write them down. I haven’t left or anything, and I don’t plan on abandoning this blog. Still, I need fresh ideas and fresh motivation to start writing again. I’ll keep trying and thinking of stories to make, but until then, my ask box and dms are always open to chat!

[malevoreenthusiast]

Would be hot if Gavin had 4 or 5 freshmen that hang around him and he would eat them whenever he wanted. Have him tease them, never knowing when they would get eaten

Fuck that’s hot! Having a gaggle of guys that worship him and hang around him constantly vying for his attention and touch. Imagine all of them eating in the dining hall, Gavin’s plate piled much higher than anyone else’s of course, when he suddenly yanks one of the dudes onto his lap and slurps him down right after chugging the milk in his cereal. The rest of the guys cheer him on and listen and feel his belly bulge and grow on his lap. Belching lazily, he just leans back and revels in the attention his belly is receiving.

[malevoreenthusiast]

Are there some stories with willing prey you planned ?

I’ve got a bunch of stories with willing prey so far, but I think the next story I’m writing will have a willing prey in it. I will definitely write about more willing prey in the future, even if I don’t end up adding it to my next story.

[malevoreenthusiast]

Will you be writing a story where nick eats his brother and dads ?

I’d definitely be down! You mean permanently, I assume? The only problem is deciding which family member goes in what hole haha

[malevoreenthusiast]

Dying to read a story about a pred dad. Maybe eating his son’s friends at their graduation??

I’ll add it to the list, but I usually have to be in a mood to enjoy a father as a pred instead of prey. I’ll get to this eventually though!

[malevoreenthusiast]

Hockey Player Hunger

Woah! I'm not dead! I got this idea pre heated rivalry if you can believe it. I've been gone a pretty long time, huh? I'm a little rusty, so please go easy on me. :) More stories soon, perhaps?

Wyatt crashed into the locker room, taking his furor off the ice. He unequipped his gloves, chucked his helmet into a locker, and wrestled with his jersey, muttering profanities under his breath as the meshed fabric struggled against his sweaty shoulder pads. He, or rather, his team, had just fucked up the first game of their tournament. The defense was too far up their own asses to help him get through the other team and the goalie was way off in La La land letting in an embarrassing amount of shots. His team was too slow to work together and keep up with Wyatt as he did little more than slap a couple pucks into the other team’s net whilst the gap between scores grew wider and wider. Exasperatedly rubbing his face in his hands, Wyatt ruminated on every move he had made that game, meticulously scrutinizing his form and plays. He had been exceptional. He was a star. His team just hadn’t supported him in the way he needed.

This all would’ve been at least manageable if it wasn’t for the other team constantly chirping at him. They saw how hard he was working and taunted him, getting under his skin and into his head as the third period buzzed in. Wyatt tried his best to remain focused during shifts, but when the shitty ref had called a penalty on him for a dirty hit, the college athlete could do nothing but seethe as his team slowly lost him one of the most important games of the season—the first game in their collegiate tournament, a place where NHL scouters ran rampant.

This wasn’t the first time Wyatt’s anger had drowned out any semblance of tranquility. In fact, he had a college-ordered therapist to help him learn to calm down when his anger got too intense. The last time he felt this mad, the opposing team had a player sent to the hospital and Wyatt couldn’t play in games for the rest of the season (which wasn’t the end of the world, as it happened to be the season’s penultimate game). He tried the coping strategies his therapist had given him to try and quell his ire: counting the tiles in the floor, breathing in through the nose, out through the mouth, imagining himself in his happy place. 

That last one was, unfortunately, a little problematic, as Wyatt’s happy place wasn’t so much a geographical location as it was a state of being. That state of being, like every other guy in his family, was fullness. Wyatt pictured himself with a rounded bulge of a gut, filled with a helpless preyboy. A soft smile played at the athlete’s lips as he could almost feel the phantom struggling of a poor, hopeless soul inside his belly. The young man spread his legs and readjusted his grip on his hockey stick as the memories of past prey flooded through him and reminded the young hunk that he hadn’t eaten in quite some time. In his breezers and chest protector, Wyatt slowly felt the edges of his anger subside. This was zen for him. The rest of his team would still be out on the ice for a team meeting and some cooldown skates for a while longer, and since he had the special privilege of being the best damn player on the ice today, he got to throw temper tantrums and recollect his sanity in the locker rooms before anyone else did.

At least, he thought he was alone. A nearby noise prompted Wyatt to shoot a glance towards the showers. Through his squint, the hunk saw the water boy—an interning student that he had never bothered to learn the name of. Thinking to himself that he couldn’t be given just one moment of alone time, the frayed edges of the athlete’s calm came loose. Wyatt’s anger surged forward, and a flash of hatred marred his face. He thought he got the space and quietude necessary with being the best, but apparently, he wasn’t even afforded that. With a sigh that rivaled storms, Wyatt yanked off his skates and stomped over to the waterboy, who sheepishly noticed the impending hockey player and instinctively shied away at the confrontation.

“Hey,” Wyatt sneered, assessing the man before him. The water boy was short, a little lanky, and clad in some suspiciously tight clothing. He had neatly sectioned off braids that framed his handsome, soft featured face. 

The waterboy looked up at Wyatt, trying to keep his eyes off of his chiseled body, though that was a challenge even the most well-built man would fail. The star player’s shoulders easily eclipsed his own, and their height difference was the kind one would see in a young adult fantasy novel. 

“You’re in my space,” Wyatt deadpanned. It was common practice to give the waterboy a hard time, sometimes literally. Wyatt knew exactly what he wanted to do with the little prick that disturbed his meditations. Overall, he was a pleasant guy; really, he was. But sometimes, just occasionally, every little thing made Wyatt one second away from punching a hole in the wall. It was why he was so great at hockey.

“Oh, sorry, I just…” the intern awkwardly began shuffling away only to be clapped on the shoulder hard by Wyatt’s hand, calloused from years of practice in the rink. He looked scared, his slight tremble revealing his knowledge of how angry hockey players typically vented their frustrations after a loss. The water boy didn’t know Wyatt swung that way, and to confirm, he glanced down at the larger man’s breezers to check for a growing bulge. Strangely, Wyatt didn’t seem to be sporting an erection at this stage, which most other players did.

“Can you help me for a minute? It’ll be real quick.”

“Sure, man,” he sounded eager to please, but the young intern was just relieved he wasn’t going to have to suck another massive, unwashed hockey player’s cock. His jaw still hurt from the goalie’s shaft pumping in and out of him before the game.

Wyatt paused, letting the tension build, then gave the small man a gleaming smile, showing off and humbly bragging that through all these years of hockey championships, he still had all of his teeth (it didn’t matter that a couple of them were fake. They were still very pretty). The concrete floor below them made a sound of running water through the pipes as Wyatt led the poor intern, most likely starting his first year of college, back to his seat on the bench.

The two sat down together, with the stronger hunk stretching his legs far out enough for the water boy to sit in between them, which he did obediently. Wyatt ran a hand up and down the guy’s torso, feeling the familiar hardness of muscle underneath the shirt.

“You play hockey, too, bro?” A hand pressed on his chest and forced the intern to lean back against Wyatt’s glistening six-pack and pumped chest.

The water boy shifted awkwardly, trying to create distance between himself and the star player. He had thought this wouldn’t be a sexual favor, but clearly, Wyatt liked to be a little more sensual with it.

“Uhm,” he inadvertently pushed his ass against Wyatt’s groin in trying to scoot away. He definitely felt his enormous member perk up since he had approached him. “A little bit… My dad’s the assistant coach here… and said I could get on the team next year when I enroll here… maybe?” Wyatt’s hands started roaming all over the small man as he spoke, hungrily grasping at him like a plant absorbing nutrients. The water boy’s speech was awkward, and a small blush warmed his cheeks. He had sort of thought about this—dreamed of it, really—but to have this happen so suddenly and after such a bad loss? It was thrilling. 

The smell of rubber and dried sweat cut through Wyatt’s enticing body odor, much to the smaller man’s chagrin. He shifted again, and this time he definitely felt something hard pressing against his backside. A shudder made its way through the water boy. He’d heard rumors about Wyatt’s size, but if what he was feeling against him was real, he had no idea how rumors could actually underplay him. Even more scary, he had no idea how something that enormous could fit in his mouth, let alone his ass. 

“What’s your name, man?”

“It’s…uh… it’s Matthew,” he whimpered. Wyatt’s hands continued roaming up and down his torso, groping hungrily at his body like it was a piece of meat. 

Wyatt’s stomach let out a low growl, though it matched the same rumble of his animalistic groan, masking it. “Mmm, Matthew. You said you wanted to join our team next year, yes? How about you get some quality time in with your future captain, then? I could really use some relief after that game…”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Matt’s breathing was heavy, eager yet extremely nervous for how Wyatt was about to handle him. He was entirely at the mercy of this larger man, and he wasn’t sure whether that worried him or turned him on. Maybe it was both. 

Two calloused hands made their way to Matthew’s tight shorts, squeezing his ass possessively. Wyatt shifted his breezers down, letting his cock that had been pushing up past his bellybutton fully spring free. It was hot, heavy, and throbbing up Matthew’s back. He leaned down and nibbled on the shell of Matt’s ear, kissing it open-mouthed and giving himself a taste of the man before him. His savory, salty flavor was electrifying, causing Wyatt to lean back and groan. 

Gripping Matt by the hips, Wyatt supported him as he pushed him into a standing position. Matthew dared a look backwards to actually face the behemoth of Wyatt’s cock. He needed to make an active effort not to gasp. How the hell did he hide something so fucking huge? How was he going to be able to walk after this at all? The worry and awe must’ve been obvious on Matthew’s face because Wyatt wrapped a large hand—which didn’t even cover a quarter of his member—around his dick and chuckled. 

“Pretty nice, huh?” A glob of precum slowly seeped out of its weeping tip. 

“It’s… wow, that’s big.” Matthew’s eyes traveled down the immense shaft, focusing on the hockey player's giant balls that rested between his muscular thighs. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make it fit.”

Matthew gulped and felt his body being pushed back downward, Wyatt readying himself to plunge into his newfound hole. He was maybe lowered by three inches before he already was met with a monstrous, leaking cock head. Thank god Wyatt’s dick was leaking this much, lubricating both cock and hole; otherwise, Matthew was sure that taking his cock would be genuinely impossible. Reflexively, Matt clenched his ass, afraid to take this much cock at once. The biggest dick he’d taken before—ironically, also a member of the hockey team—was less than half this size. 

Wyatt tutted at Matt’s hesitance. “Come on, Matthew. You want this as much as I do, right?”

The smaller man sheepishly nodded in response, trying to relax. He felt Wyatt’s hand wrap around his lower stomach, pulling him closer once again, this time breaching his hole. As Wyatt entered into Matt, he groaned obnoxiously. Again, his stomach growled loudly, not obfuscated by his other noises this time. Matt didn’t think too much of it, as he was preoccupied with trying not to split in two from the sheer monster Wyatt hid between his legs. 

“Fuck me, you’re so fucking tight for me,” Wyatt breathed out. 

Matthew wasn’t tight. Not even close. In fact, just that morning a defenseman had stretched him loose to let off steam before the game. Matthew’s hole was still open and abused from earlier in the day. He wasn’t tight so much as Wyatt was just insanely big. A slick, wet sound signaled the excruciatingly painful process of Wyatt pulling Matthew to take all of his cock. At about halfway down, Wyatt had to pause, gripping one of Matt’s shoulders and biting his lip. 

“Fuck. You feel so good on me. Holy fuck. Just—Just give me a minute. Haven’t done this for a while,” Wyatt managed to say, trying his hardest not to come. His face was contorted in pleasure, panting as he shifted under Matthew. 

Seeing how needy Wyatt suddenly looked, Matt felt a sudden urge to push the hockey player a little bit. Biting down to stop himself from crying out in pain, he slid himself down Wyatt’s shaft more, feeling the rock-hard cock continue to ravage his insides with zero effort. A thin veil of sweat formed all over his body as the Herculean cock twitched inside of him. Every throb, every vein, every minuscule shift could be felt by the smaller guy as Wyatt tried his hardest not to burst from feeling himself be so tightly and warmly stimulated. 

Matt smiled lightly to himself, happy to see how much Wyatt was enjoying his ass. His own cock was hard just from watching him shudder in pleasure. Matthew tried to push himself down further, but a hand squeezed his hip in warning, holding him in place. 

“I said,” Wyatt growled, “give me a fucking minute.”

Matt froze, suddenly worried that he had gotten too eager. He held his breath while Wyatt seemed to take up most of the air in the room with his heavy breathing. Through nervous eyes, Matt watched the hockey player’s muscular chest rise and fall as he tried to calm himself before spilling into the water boy. They stayed in that position for what felt like an hour, which gave each man enough time to get used to each dizzying sensation the other was giving them. 

Finally, Wyatt’s breathing seemed to grow more even, his eerie calm restored. With his iron-grip wrapped around one of Matt’s hips and one of his shoulders, the captain of the hockey team let out a soft grunt, stilling his movement, and pulled down, hard. A loud slap of skin-on-skin contact was the first sense Matthew’s brain registered. Then, a flood of firery pain rushed in. Wyatt had just slammed his remaining length into him, or rather, he had just impaled Matt on his remaining length. Without any preparation, Matt opened his mouth to scream in pain, but he suddenly found his throat completely dry. He looked down and saw a very stretched bulge in his abdomen, signaling where Wyatt’s dick was throbbing inside of him. He now sat squarely on Wyatt’s lap, a place he’s sure he’s dreamed about before, albeit under much more romantic circumstances. His insides felt entirely alight with pain, but he clamped down on his words, unable, and perhaps unwilling to say stop. His own cock was still painfully hard through all of this, so he can’t say he didn’t want it. 

“There we go,” Wyatt growled in Matt’s ear, rubbing over the bulge his dick was making on Matthew. “You feel so fucking good around me. So tight for me. Tell me it’s the best dick you’ve ever had.”

Horrifyingly, Wyatt’s hands began roaming all over Matt’s body as Wyatt whispered into the back of his neck. If he wasn’t tearing up in pain, he’d begin to worship his future-captain, trying to pleasure him as much as he could. Matthew was too scared to move for fear of ripping himself apart. A small whimper escaped him, which, fortunately, Wyatt seemed to deem as an acceptable answer. Unfortunately, that made his hips start moving with lust. 

The hockey player gripped Matthew by his sides, lifting him up with ease. The bulge in his stomach lessened for a moment, only to be replaced a moment later as Wyatt pulled him back down onto his lap with a soft plap. A string of pleasure-fraught profanities tumbled from Wyatt’s mouth, showering Matt with praise like roses at a curtain call. His heart raced, unsure if he would be able to survive this inhuman cock he found himself pierced on. The idea occurred to him that even if he wanted to get off, he didn’t know if Wyatt would let him. Even worse, Matthew liked that. As the hunk began using him as a living fucktoy, the guilty thought invaded his mind like a fog: there was no place else he’d rather be. 

His pace quickened, and along with it, his ferocity. Within minutes, Wyatt was beginning to come undone. He began slamming Matthew down on his shaft while moaning about how good he fit around his cock. At the same time, he instinctively thrust upwards, reveling in the feeling of Matthew’s guts literally rearranging themselves to accommodate Wyatt. The hockey player’s breathing became more and more ragged, filling the ambience of the locker room with obnoxious sounds of gratification. As his composure quickly unraveled, Wyatt began to use more force, more pressure on his living fleshlight. Gripping him hard enough to bruise, Wyatt’s aggression kicked up a notch as his climax neared, going far too fast for Matthew to handle. He opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately met with two rough fingers reaching into his mouth, stopping any protest he might have vocalized. Matthew swirled his tongue around Wyatt’s digits, wishing he could feel the heavy weight of his cock in his mouth instead. This was probably for the better though, as Wyatt’s dick would definitely have popped Matt’s jaw and maybe done permanent damage to his throat. Instead he was going to have permanent damage to his ass, which wasn’t ideal, but fuck if it wasn’t hotter than anything he’s felt before. 

With increased fervor, Wyatt began panting in between a rapid piston of thrusts, “Fuck yeah, you gonna let me cum in your ass? You wanna take this big fuckin’ load?”

Matthew let out a pathetic whimper in response, and his body was lifted up violently, the cold air sending electric shivers throughout his spine. Wyatt wove his arms under Matt’s armpits and laced his fingers behind his head, putting him in a masterlock position. Wyatt pounded into his toy, screaming out profanities as his cock throbbed to even greater proportions in anticipation for an egregious climax. The slapping sound as Matthew was viciously pumped into started ringing in his ears, almost making him faint from the pure overstimulation. Just as the edges of Matthew’s vision were going blurry, Waytt shouted, bottoming out inside of him.

A warm, fuzzy feeling started pooling in Matthew’s stomach. Wyatt’s arms had wrapped themselves around Matt’s chest, holding him in place as he hung his forehead on Matthew’s neck, hot breath adding to the intensity Wyatt’s fucktoy felt. The warm feeling in his gut bloomed into a strange discomfort, tangible in a way he hadn’t felt before. Languidly dragging his eyes down, Matthew watched in shock as his stomach started ballooning outwards. Wyatt’s load was responsible for the paradoxically euphoric and uncomfortable feeling. His burgeoning lean gut swelled until he looked heavily pregnant, Wyatt grunting light threats about not letting Matthew spill a single drop. Somewhere along the lines, Matthew must have also came, judging by the streaks of white, hot jizz contrasting his skin along his torso. Wyatt fucked him so good that he didn’t even realize how hard he came, either, earning a huff of laughter from the abused bottom.

Wyatt, blissed out and debauched, felt his stomach growl again, complaining that he hadn’t already gotten on with the main event. The star hockey player sat both of them back down on the bench, flowering Matthew with light kisses and lots of tongue as they slowly came down from the high. With his cock still lightly throbbing inside the water boy, Wyatt murmured something into the back of Matt’s head, arms still wrapped possessively around him.

“What? Sorry?” Matthew tightened his face, still trying to form one coherent thought after that life-changing fuck.

“You taste really fucking good.”

Matthew hummed, unsure what kind of innuendo Wyatt was trying to make, and still way too exhausted to try to piece it together. He leaned back into the larger man, pushing his braids back to let his entire flushed face feel the mildewy locker room air—an unsatisfying reprieve for how on fire his body felt, but it was a relief nonetheless. He tilted his head back, eyes shut and content. He heard a popping noise behind him, and in an instant, his entire world shifted.

Wyatt engulfed his prey’s head entirely, wrapping his lips around Matt’s neck lightly. His tongue ran over his sweaty skin, coaxing out the salty-savory flavor like he’s done so many times before. His cock stiffened slightly, still being warmed by Matt’s gaping hole. Wyatt’s throat bulged out, and his flat six-pack pleasantly grumbled, aware of what was about to transpire. Wyatt twitched, bringing his arms up to feel what was happening around his head. Cutting him off, Wyatt clamped down on Matt’s biceps, bunching up his shoulders together, and took a beefy gulp, sentencing his prey’s head to bulge out his throat. The feeling was euphoric, and Wyatt’s anger eased up, if only a little. Taking his anger out with sex and then filling his gut up with the hookup was simple, easy, efficient. His brothers and fathers taught him how to do this when he was of age, and the habit stuck with him even now, even through his mandated therapist.

Wyatt pushed Matthew up into his mouth, feeling his torso begin to slide down his tight, wet, beckoning throat. With dawning pleasure, Wyatt could feel his stomach’s valve stretch wide as his prey’s head entered his stomach chamber. There wasn’t much in there, as he usually didn’t have much more than a smoothie and some protein bars before afternoon games, which meant Matt would get the place all to himself. A calloused hand patted the side of the hockey player’s growing belly, smacking it with much the same sound as his earlier thrusts made. The feeling was sparking even more intense desire within the athlete, and his cock was again fully erect, pumping precome into his prey with need. He chuckled warmly, the vibrations of his chest sent a buzz throughout Matt’s now half-engulfed torso.

The predator lifted his prey’s body upward, off of his needy cock and into the air to allow a slow, sinking swallowing process. Wyatt’s lips widened around Matthew’s come-bloated belly, proud of himself for the cream filling he cheffed up for his prey. Resonant gulps ushered more of the water boy’s body down into Wyatt’s still expanding belly. A pair of shoulders and arms spilled into his gut, followed shortly by a chest painted in cum. His tight abdominal muscles adhered religiously to the body that stretched his belly out. Wyatt pressed his hand roughly where Matt’s head is, rubbing it brutally as his frantic squirms began to heighten, the reality of the situation beginning to become apparent.

Unfortunately, the snake-like devourment continued without hindrance. Wyatt relaxed his throat, letting it bulge even further with Matt’s gut, putting his attention towards slurping down his muscular pair of legs. If it wasn’t clear that he played hockey before, Wyatt immediately recognized the very developed set of quads on his meal, revealing that he truly was devouring an incoming prospect for the collegiate team. In recognition of this, Wyatt crammed Matt’s thighs down his throat in a brutal motion. The idea of extinguishing a future team member’s chance was exactly the kind of cruelty Wyatt needed to get his catharsis. Plus, his dad was the assistant coach, so as team captain, Wyatt wasn’t about to let nepotism influence the team composition.

The rounded gut sat heavily on Wyatt’s lap, weighing down his still hard cock. He bucked his hips lightly, stimulating his eager shaft against the hard weight of his growing belly. Most of Matt was already tucked inside the athlete’s stomach by now, but there was still a small amount of the guy left on the outside world. Eager to finish him off, Wyatt opened his throat, letting the slimy noise of Matt’s calves and feet join their final resting place along with the rest of his body. The persistent bliss Wyatt felt was exactly what he needed to quell his anger, other coping methods be damned. Looking down beneath the swell of his pecs, the hockey player rubbed gently over his gurgling belly, thankful that Matthew made for such a good stress-reliever, meal, and cum-dump all in one. 

“Fuck,” Wyatt moaned out, leaning his head back and lazily rubbing his actively moving gut. “Just keep squirming for me, man. Make your captain feel good—UUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP! That’s it, just like that.”

Wyatt would allow himself to float happily in bliss for just a few more minutes before cleaning himself and the floor up. It appeared that when he lifted Matt off his cock, he had accidentally let a disgusting amount of semen spill from his hole. Just as the initial waves of pleasure began winding down, he heard the telltale noise of the locker room door swing open. A heavy pair of footsteps grew louder as a voice called out to him.

“Yo! Cushy,” Wyatt’s nickname alerted him that a teammate had come to check on him. “Coach wants to see if you’re alright, and he also wants me to tell you to get your ass back on the ice for cooldown skates.”

Wyatt’s eyes shot open, recognizing the voice as anger rushed back in him like it never left. Indignant and petulant, he stood up to meet the person who was calling him back on the ice with fury. Of all people, they sent Sparky—the goalie—to come grab him. The very same goalie who had let in an embarrassing six goals in their first tournament game. He, of all people, came to check on Wyatt after his pathetic performance? He wanted to check in on him? Could they not have sent anybody else?

James Sparkman turned the corner to find the row Wyatt had made his mess in, stopping instantly and freezing in shock. “Wyatt…what the fuck did you do?” His voice was slow and measured, taking in the sight of his captain’s lowhanging, swollen gut as obvious handprints bulged out the skin that usually was tight against his abs. Right under it, his enormous, hard, leaking cock hung down like a third leg, throbbing for stimulation.

There are certain obligations one must make when becoming the captain of a hockey team. Time, surely, is one of them. You need to be the first on the ice and the last to leave. Observational skills was another, as a good captain was able to find flaws in his teammate’s play and correct them. One other obligation a captain must have is emotional maturity. The captain should always be the first to line up for handshakes and the morale booster at the end of a bad loss. Wyatt was, up until today, a really good captain. He could handle most things. He made sure never to let his anger show too openly in front of his teammates (except for when he got into brawls on the ice, but that was just standard hockey), he made sure to watch them closely and help them when they falter, and he was happy to lead the team in drills and warmups every single practice.

Something he could not handle, however, was his sorry excuse for a goalie judging Wyatt for something that was invariably his own fault. Wyatt’s plays had been flawless. As first line center, he scored a hat trick—in a tournament, no less. Sparky, on the other hand, had let in even more goals than Wyatt had scored. So, for his terrible goalie to come in and start ordering Wyatt around like they were anywhere remotely on the same level—Wyatt was not too keen on listening to what James had to say.

“Dude…Cap…pull yourself together, man. It’s just one loss. We’ll get ‘em next time.” Sparky still looked horrified as Matthew pleaded for his life inside the captain’s belly. His eyes raked over his naked captain, debauched, fists clenched in rage, and eyes narrow and cold.

“...Pull myself together,” Wyatt spat the words as if they were poison on his tongue. He drummed his fingers on his belly, ruminating for much less time than he should’ve about how he was going to ‘pull himself together.’

“Yeah, just…I’m gonna go tell Coach you need another minute. Let…whoever that is out and get back on the ice.”

The goalie turned to leave, grimacing as he did so, wondering if he’ll ever be able to get the sight of Wyatt’s toned, naked body with a grotesquely bulging gut and rock-hard dick out of his mind. Probably not. Wyatt hid his anger well, so for it to show so openly was quite the shock. Before James could take a step towards the door, a pair of hands seized his shoulders. He didn’t even have the time to look back before a greedy mouth opened wide and plunged his world into darkness.

Absolutely fuming, Wyatt yanked his goalie towards him, forcing him against his huge belly. Goalie pads and all, the irate captain swallowed once, twice, three times in rapid succession, paying zero attention to how foul his teammate’s gear tasted. This time, swallowing his prey brought him no reprieve, but he still felt the urge to tank him out of pure principle. The synthetic leather almost made Wyatt gag, but the idea that his goalie was screaming and thrashing about in terror was too delicious. He funneled the large man down his throat with one frustrated grunt after another. 

Much to his delight, Wyatt’s belly stretched even further, filling the captain with a deep, much-needed satisfaction. His stomach felt heavy, gurgling and churning its contents hard. Wyatt pulled the goalie pads past his lips, grimacing but too stubborn to stop for even a moment. His belly let out a whining groan, unaccustomed to stretching its sphincter muscle so wide to let such a bulky figure in. Wyatt just patted his gut for a moment, thankful that he had the ability to handle lazy fucks who let in six goals for their first tournament game. 

Inside the belly, James was disoriented and wildly flailing his arms, feeling himself smack into the other occupant inside his captain’s gut. Widening his eyes, he recognized instantly the face of the assistant captain’s son. Still in a panic, he squirmed and struggled as hard as he could, pressing his gloved hands to his ears in attempts to drown out the disgusting, slick sounds of Wyatt’s happy belly as it gently tenderized its two human meals. With horrifying clarity, Sparky felt he was able to move his legs again, meaning only one thing: his team captain had swallowed him whole, pads and all.

Wyatt heaved a massive sigh, jostling his behemoth belly around and chuckling. Hefting up the weight and dropping it back down, the hunk was very proud of himself for downing such a hulking guy with so much speed. His gut complained noisily, upset that he had forced the meal in so quickly, but overall still happy he got to fill his belly further.

Crashing himself against some standing lockers, Wyatt appreciated his belly’s noises and took a minute to rub over it lustfully. Staring down at the titanic gut, his pecs rose and fell with his deep breaths, slowing his heart rate. Now would be as good a time as any, so Wyatt began holding counts for his breath, trying to quell his pounding chest and calm his anger. Ideally, he would have done this before swallowing a teammate and water boy whole, but those are just miscellaneous details he and his therapist could worry about later. 

Wyatt’s breathing exercises, surprisingly, helped the college athlete calm down a little, though that may also be in part to his gurgling belly happily bloating beneath him. As his goalie struggled inside of him, he felt the crass urge to expel some of the air he was kicking up with all of his resistance. Pounding his chest with his fist, Wyatt let out a rink-shaking:

bbbbbbbBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRuuuuUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!

A tense ding rang out in the emptied locker room as Sparkman’s goalie mask flew out of Wyatt’s wide-open mouth and slammed into a locker. He snorted and smacked his gut on the side, proud of himself for such a manly belch, and hopefully, smug in his torment of his ass goalie.

“Fuck you, dickhead. How’s it feel being in my gut? Think I’ve pulled myself together enough? Huh? What’s that? Can’t hear you over how much you’re squirming. Just settle in there, Sparky…you’re not going fucking anywhere.”

Both of Wyatt’s hands roamed the obscene belly bulge, feeling the undulating imprints with smug pride. He moaned obnoxiously and belched out the side of his mouth, drunk on his belly’s fullness. After a noxious fart, Wyatt devolved into a fit of giggles, amused by his belly-fillers’ torment.

“Ah, god—BBEEELLLCCCHHHH—Coach is gonna fucking kill me. God, though, was it worth it.”

Wyatt is so lost in his haze that he didn’t register the locker room door opening once again several minutes later. This time, he was fully exposed to the man who just walked in, staring at the star player rubbing his gut with a deeply sickening look of fondness in his eyes. He observed his still-hard cock, snaking up the curve of his gut, and the discarded rag that Wyatt had gotten from Matthew to clean up his mess. The intruder’s eyes flicked briefly to the goalie mask Wyatt had just dispelled from his squirming gut. When his gaze returned, Wyatt was staring right at the assistant coach, his smug look crumbling to guilt, gray eyes scanning for any reaction from Matthew’s father.

A wave of guilt coursed through Wyatt’s body, suddenly faced with an authority figure he needed to obey in order to continue playing hockey. He whipped his hands away from his belly, wanting to appear less hedonistic than he absolutely was. Still, a symphony of wet, obnoxiously braggadocious gurgles came from the man’s belly, singing out how happy it was to have not one but two delicious morsels tucked away in its chamber. In order to try and calm down his assistant coach before he took action, Wyatt numbly opened his mouth to stutter out an explanation, but he was cut off with his coach’s accusatory finger pointing at his bulging gut.

“Is that…Is that my boy in there?” His voice broke with emotion as he asked.

Wyatt decided to keep his tone carefully neutral, “Mmm, yeah. That’s him in there.”

His coach brought a hand up to cover his mouth in horror. Seeing his star player with his gut full of his own son must’ve been quite terrifying. It couldn’t have been made better by the fact that, if what Matthew said was true, his coach had plans to get his boy onto the team with Wyatt within the next year, and Wyatt had…expidited the process, if you could stretch the definition of joining the team this far.

With a shaky breath, the coach nervously looked Wyatt in the eyes. He kept his voice low and stern, not wanting to anger the predator in front of him: “And that’s Sparkman in there, too?” 

Wyatt nodded with a pursed smile, running a hand along the surface of his dome as he stifled a belch.

With an exaggerated gulp, the assistant coach pushed further. “Look, son, I know there’s…no reason you need to listen to me in this situation, but that’s my kid in there. He’s a good man, Wyatt. He wanted to be a part of the team next year.”

The unspoken question hung in the air between them. The tension was thick and dense like fog. Under any other circumstance, Wyatt would listen to his coach without hesitation. However, when it came to the prey Wyatt conquered, he had no obligation to listen to Matt’s dad. There were no cameras in the locker room for obvious reasons, so if Wyatt had cleaned up after himself like he had intended, then it would be as if Matthew was just like any other snatched prey—Wyatt couldn’t be held responsible. Wyatt’s eyes shifted around his coach, not willing to heed his words just yet. His avoidance only pushed the father closer, trying again.

“Please, son. Please let my boy go. I’ll… let you be on the first line for the rest of the season? I can make sure you have more time on the ice than anyone else, just. Just please, Wyatt, let my son out.”

Wyatt’s attention snapped towards his coach at the offer. His mind could be playing tricks on him, but that sounded like a thinly veiled threat, as if he wouldn’t stay on the starting line or get ice time if he kept his—rightfully fought for—prey where he belonged. Nevermind that, he didn’t even mention the goalie he had gulped down, too, meaning he didn’t actually care about the morality of the situation. He only cared about his son, and he would use any underhanded tactics to get him out of Wyatt’s belly. Implying that Wyatt didn’t earn his spot on the first line and that his ice time was a privilege he was given rather than something he tirelessly proved himself to be worthy of made a pool of familiar rage burn in his chest.

Cocking an eyebrow, Wyatt asked, “You’ll let me stay on the first line?”

“Come on, bud. I’m sure we can work something out?”

There was nothing to be worked out, Wyatt thought. Asking a pred to release their prey was already a massive overstep, especially if the pred hadn’t done anything underhanded to earn their meal, which Wyatt never had to. Matt practically crawled down his throat. Sort of. Regardless, Wyatt was under no pressure to listen to his coach order him about anything other than hockey and team dynamics. Plus, if the bullets of sweat his coach was dripping were anything to go by, he knew this too. Threatening him for something he had no dominion over was spineless—it was pathetic. Matthew was food. That’s it.

“Suck my dick,” Wyatt scoffed, unable to bite back his ire.

Wyatt turned around to grab Matthew’s rag and begin cleaning up the mess, finished with the idiotic conversation. He made it several paces away before his coach, who hadn’t taken the hint yet, mumbled something then cleared his throat.

“What was that?” Wyatt snarked.

“I said okay.”

Without preamble, his assistant coach strode over to the star athlete and dropped to his knees. Wyatt hardly had time to register what was going on before he felt a plush pair of lips wrap around his wet, desperate tip. The coach’s tongue swirled around his head, causing Wyatt to stumble back and moan in a surprised delight. He didn’t mean ‘suck my dick’ literally, but fuck, his coach was talented. Maybe taking cock this good ran in the family.

Matt’s dad widened his jaw as far as he could, trying with reverence to slurp down even a fraction of Wyatt’s beast. The predator’s gut was in the way, so he had to press his forehead up against the mass of flesh, listening intently to the screaming and gurgles of the two occupants trapped inside his belly. It was horrible, and unfortunately, Wyatt seemed to notice.

“You wanna save your boy? You’re gonna need to suck harder than that, coach.”

Wyatt bucked his hips, feeling himself stretch out his coach’s throat. The man hollowed his cheeks out as best he could (though, in truth, Wyatt was so girthy that not much hallowing was necessary) and tried to relax as Wyatt tried to push himself down his coach’s tight, constrictive throat.

“God, you’re tight…just like your son.”

The coach gagged at the chirp, letting out a muffled gasp at the revelation that Wyatt had fucked his son before devouring him. He knew the star player could be arrogant, cocky, and pretentious—he deserved it. He was the best player, after all. But this was just cruelty.

Doubling his efforts, the coach tried to push past the burning feeling at the back of his throat as Wyatt pushed deeper into him. While the coach himself was never a pred, his uncle had the gene, meaning that there might have been some recessive part of him in his blood that carried it. That seemed like the most likely explanation, otherwise there would be no way he could stretch his jaw as wide as he was to take this throbbing cock.

Through immense willpower, determination, and disassociation, the coach eventually found himself sniffing Wyatt’s trimmed, musky pubes. His eyes opened momentarily, and the locker room seemed shrouded in night, thanks to the man’s belly above him, blocking out all light. His throat constantly massaged and involuntarily swallowed around Wyatt’s shaft, making the hockey player groan and hump against his coach with delight. If he just stayed here for a little bit longer, Wyatt would come, he’d get his son back, and they’d never have to speak of this again.

Unfortunately, Wyatt’s dick had other ideas. As Wyatt trembled in pleasure with his coach between his legs, a warm, relaxed feeling spread throughout his hazy mind, spreading down to his dick, which twitched. Hard. Then once more, it twitched, bulging larger in his coach’s definitely bruised throat. Wyatt shut his eyes and tilted his head back in want, giving in fully to the temptation of what his body was seeking. He let out a weak chuckle, vaguely recognizing but not entirely present for what was about to happen.

The enormous cock twitched again, growing another inch in length, rounding out more in girth. The sensation, even with underdeveloped pred genes, was too much for Matthew’s father. Wretching, he gagged up the steel-hard cock. With Wyatt’s monster free, it began growing faster, curving upwards gently and shining in its layer of saliva left on it. The coach's eyes widened in horror, and he slowly backed away from the athlete, who was moaning softly and bucking his hips with infantile want. He appeared to be so drunk on hedonism that he barely was registering what his body was doing for him. 

As the coach crawled backwards from the ever-growing dick, he felt his back press up against the hard wood of the benches. He had nowhere to go, and Wyatt’s cock showed no sign of slowing down its growth. In a panic, the coach shouted at Wyatt, desperately pleading to stop this. It evidently fell on deaf ears, as Wyatt only rubbed his belly, bit his lip, and leaked more precome as his dick snaked ever closer to the coach.

Just as Matt’s dad was about to steel himself to make a run for it, he felt a pressure pushing his feet together. Looking down in abject horror at his legs, Wyatt’s cock slit had already opened up and enveloped the coach’s feet and ankles into the star player’s shaft. There was a sick, sick smile plastered on the athlete’s face as the new pleasing sensation coursed through him. Flexing his dick, Wyatt slurped up his coach’s lower legs into his human-hungry shaft moaning in sheer ecstasy.

The coach reached his hands towards the edge of the bench, trying to leverage himself against the predator and wrench himself up and free, or at least pull a part of him out of his player’s dick. Unfortunately, and, predictably, at this point, as he did so, Wyatt’s cock simply snaked up his now straightened legs, threatening to engulf the rest of him quickly. The thick, throbbing, veiny shaft squelched precum around the coach’s waist, seemingly lubricating him up before sucking down the rest of him. The coach could see the bulge in Wyatt’s shaft where his legs were. Trying to move them was futile. All of the muscles he spent years developing were no match for this one man’s greedy cock.

Wyatt’s balls had grown significantly, too, waiting patiently on the cold, concrete floor to accept the meal his shaft was eagerly working on. The man himself seemed occupied with making out with his bicep as he continued groaning like a pornstar at the euphoric, erotic feelings he was experiencing. Catastrophe aside, the man was a fucking spectacle. 

The massive cock finished the rest of the coach with relative haste, slurping him up like a snake engulfing its victim. The wasted attempts at reasoning couldn’t be heeded by Wyatt, and the struggling to break free were quickly shut down by his cock. With nothing left to do but whine and hope this would convince the hockey player to let his son go, the coach quietly, sadly, accepted defeat as his head was slowly swallowed up and wrapped tightly inside the man’s cock.

After several more minutes, Wyatt came crashing back down, realizing what he’d done. Looking down at his engorged balls, he winced, regretting immediately swallowing his coach like this. If he had his wits about him, he definitely wouldn’t have let one loss make him spiral this far. He wasn’t even that angry anymore. And, while yes, eating these three guys helped enervate that rage, he still hadn’t done the one thing that got rid of his anger better than even stretching his body with delicious prey—talk to his boyfriend. He estimated that he had about ten more minutes before his team would come back into the locker room after cool downs, so he had to be quick.

His phone rang three times before Luca picked up. Wyatt got to admire the sweet, blond, wavy hair and adorable pair of glasses he featured in his profile photo as the call waited to be answered, and he could feel his heart melt just by thinking of him. He didn’t have a good excuse for why he waited this long to call him, except for maybe that he wanted to act like a child before actually solving the problem. But, he was here now, and surely that counted for something, right?

“Hey, baby.”

“Luca!” Wyatt practically cheered.”I miss you, my love.”

“I miss you too. I saw the game. That was a great goal in the second period. I’m sorry about the loss, but you were killer out there,” he waited a beat before continuing, “and fucking sexy, too.”

Wyatt chuckled, already feeling the permanence of his anger dissapate “Thank you, sweetheart. I—BBBBBBBBBBBBBBuuuuuuuuuuoooooooooooOOOOUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPP!”

The predator cringed as he gave himself away. He looked down at his belly, biting his lip in a half-hearted attempt at regret. He didn’t really want to explain to Luca about his outburst, but it wasn’t exactly like that was a normal belch that just anyone could produce. Luca seemed to know that, too. 

“Wyatt,” he deadpanned, voice tinny through the phone speaker in the acoustics of the locker room. 

“…Yeah baby?”

“What was that?”

“Okay, Please don’t be mad—” Wyatt mumbled into the phone, guilt layering into his voice like mud. 

“Wyatt.” Luca warned again. “Tell me what happened.” His voice wasn’t angry, so to speak, but it was certainly stern, which was almost worse. He hated the idea of disappointing Luca, but worse than that would be lying to him. 

“I…uh. I got pretty mad after the loss. So I ditched cooldowns to try and do those breathing practices Dr. Thales taught me, or, like, at least get some space to clear my head...”

“Okay,” Luca prompted Wyatt to continue. 

“And then as I sat down and started trying to do all that stuff, I, uh, I saw the water boy? And I sorta…you know.”

Wyatt felt very small as he explained his actions to Luca. As he said it out loud, he realized just how much of a temper tantrum he’d thrown. He waited to reveal the worst part of this, the guilt fastening into his chest like a lump of lead, weighing him down.

“I just haven’t really eaten much today because it’s an afternoon game, so like, I just wanted some alone time, and he was kinda interrupting that? So I, y’know…swallowed him.” After a couple pounding heartbeats, Wyatt added in a slurred mumble, “Andthegoalieandassistantcoachtoo.”

“Huh? I think you cut out or something, babe.”

“And the goalie and assistant coach too.” Wyatt spat through a miserable wince, already anticipating the scolding he was going to receive. To corroborate his story, his gut let out a particularly brutal churn, definitely picked up by the call. Wyatt delicately rubbed over his stomach, trying to quiet it down and tell it that they were both in trouble. There was a chilling silence on the other end of the call. Wyatt shifted on his feet and swallowed. “Luc? You still there?”

“I’m here.”

“Are you mad?” He sounded pathetic even to himself.

Luca took a long, excruciating pause followed by a deep breath, easing into a, “No…but you have to let them out.”

“What? Seriously?” Wyatt was incredulous.

“They’re on your team, Wyatt. One of them is your coach. I know it might have felt great at the moment, but think about what comes after this. You can’t just take your anger out on anyone and anything. It’s not healthy. You know this.”

“Mmm,” Wyatt acquiesced, begrudgingly seeing the logic his boyfriend provided.

“And you have to tell Dr. Thales.”

“Oh, come on!”

 “That’s not up for debate, my love. You need to talk about this sort of thing, or else how are you going to improve?”

Wyatt groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, detesting the fact that Luca was right. Most of the relief he felt at sentencing three guys to digestion was gone, anyway, and he’d probably just feel a bit of regret for taking out the goalie and coach the next day. He could exercise his cruelty and hunger on literally anyone else. Hell, if he went to the gym, he knew he had at least a dozen willing prey that would pleasure him and fill him up any way he pleased. Eating these guys: the goalie, who didn’t even taste good through his gear, and the coach, who he didn’t ever actually intend on eating, was definitely not the best way to handle his mood swings.

“Yeah, okay,” Wyatt affirmed. “But, uh, I think the water boy’s already kinda… I don’t think he’s in a state where I should let him out.”

“That’s okay. We don’t have to get better all at once,” Luca replied, a little too hastily. “Plus I’m taking you out tonight. I made reservations for that Italian place across from Drayden’s Bar. I wanna see you squeeze that gut into a suit, mister.”

Wyatt blushed at his boyfriend’s perversion in the midst of his stern talking-to. “You made reservations?” A love-sick expression bloomed on Wyatt’s face, entirely too fond of his boyfriend.

“Yeah—celebrations if you won, ‘you’ll get ‘em next time’ if you lost,” Luca explained.

“I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too. Now let them out and come back home so we can get ready. And do it before your team comes back. How have they not already walked in on you?”

A dawning realization that his team should be back in the locker room any minute snapped Wyatt out of his adoration. “Oh, shit! Fuck. Okay, sorry. I gotta go. I love you, talk to you soon.”

“Talk to you soo—” Wyatt ended the call before Luca could finish.

Back in the subtle ambience of the locker room, Wyatt heaved a sigh, reckoning with the fact that he was going to feel much more empty in a few minutes. Still, he at least got to keep his original meal. Before he was about to start the unappealing process of saving his goalie and coach from digestion, Wyatt’s phone buzzed with a text from Luca.

Send a pic before you let them out? Love you <3Wyatt scoffed and shook his head, eyes melting at his sweet, sweet boyfriend. He obeyed resolutely, finding a large mirror and flexing a bicep as the camera showed off his enormous, bulging belly and engorged, throbbing cock. He snapped the picture with a smirk. Just the thought of Luca wanting this already redoubled Wyatt’s arousal, meaning jacking off until his dick spit up his coach was going to be a breeze. He quickly began working at it, gripping his shaft with two hands, not even close to being able to wrap around his girth, and let his mind fill with thoughts of Luca and nothing else. As he quickly obeyed his boyfriend’s demands, letting out two of this three prey, he had one thought that he couldn’t stop smiling to himself with: God, how the hell did he make me so fucking whipped?

[malevoreenthusiast]

Thank You!

I’m a bit late, but I wanted to thank you all for 1000 followers on here. I know I haven’t been active lately, but I still intend on writing everything I said I would and more, but life sometimes gets in the way of things. I’m not really quite sure what to do as celebration, so if anyone has any ideas, let me know!

[malevoreenthusiast]

how do you feel about a boss taking a liking to his new trainee/apprentice? so much so, that he has to eat anyone other than his trainee just to fill the void in his gut

the trainee is completely unaware of his boss’ affection and appetite. he just sees his boss as a guy who likes to eat and knows what to do on the job. he finds his boss’ swollen belly to be incredibly fascinating, rubbing his gut while he digests all while his boss pretends not to imagine stuffing his trainee into his mouth.

personally, i can imagine this as a construction job or a standard office job kind of scenario, but can also imagine it being like a professor/TA or a doctor/resident sort of relationship

but idk, you’re the master 😁

Don’t call me the master when you whip out such incredible ideas yourself!

Can you imagine this boss horking down a guy in the break room for lunch because he has a perfect view of this new intern out of his office window and can’t stop thinking about him squirming around in his gut, but he knows he shouldn’t swallow the new employee. Maybe while the other guy’s feet are still sticking out of his mouth, the intern walks in with his eyes closed, listening to music or something, so he doesn’t see the scene play out before him. What he does see, however, is his boss’ enormous, belt-busted, button-popped, hairy belly that’s far larger than any gut he’s ever seen before. He’s struck with a wonderful curiosity and asks about his boss’ gut whilst touching it delicately. The boss literally has to back away to keep himself from swallowing the intern whole, so he shuffles out of the room and goes to the bathroom, only to find another employee slacking on the job, and after what had just happened, he can’t get that close to eating the cute intern again, so this guy also goes down the hatch, exploding his belly into an even bigger bulge. Just his luck, though, the intern steps in to take a leak, and he bumps belly-first into his boss. Intern can’t help but marvel at boss’ belly and shoves his face into the spherical mass and rub it all over, while boss has to sit back and resist the endless temptation this little intern is causing. Boss starts belching in his intern’s face, stammering out an apology as he hopes desperately that his prey quit squirming before his new intern feels something in his belly do something it should t.

VERY hot story idea. Would love to hear more

[malevoreenthusiast]

What has nick been up to ?

He just woke up at his friend’s apartment with a cock that had five whole dudes churning into cum in his engorged balls. Him and some college friends were playing truth or dare, and they dared Nick to show them his cock. Then the dares got more and more promiscuous, until his buddy Tyrique dared Nick to stick his cock over his head. Then, that friend group was pretty much history. Nick accidentally drowned his friend’s apartment in cum, and when the neighbor showed up because of all the commotion, he, too, ended up getting slurped down by Nick’s hungry shaft. But I need to stress, this wasn’t his fault, and no matter what his dads say, Nick really is a gentle, nice kid. Sometimes his body just has other ideas.

[malevoreenthusiast]

Hungry Halloween Hangover

Halloweekend is not for the weak of heart. Or stomach. Hope you all enjoy this second part to Josh's Halloween story! I promise the next stories will be more polished, but these ones are pretty time restrictive, haha. Enjoy!

"Alright, buddy, It’s okay, let it out,” Blake patted Josh’s belly gruffly, earning some deeply resonating sloshes. The tanned gut had gotten much smaller throughout Josh’s food-coma. It was hypnotizing, watching the squirming of the pledges slowly simmer down into weak pushes, which were reduced into meager moans, until they ended up like this—an egregious orb attached to Josh’s torso, bubbling and reverently cheering for the food it got to digest. Saying his gut had gotten smaller implies that it was anywhere close to a standard bloat, which was wrong. Josh looked like he had swallowed at least two yoga balls full of water. The pledges he ate two nights ago on Halloween had all been mulched into nutrients for the hungry jock, and their assets added onto Josh’s as a bonus. Sometime when the digestion kicked into high gear, Josh’s thick dick grew rock hard, twitching into an erection that lasted hours. Something relatively strange happened though—his cock didn’t stop growing. Blake watched the shaft grow hard at an astonishing eleven inches, but it grew, in slow, steady twitches, thickening as the jock’s balls seemed to fill up with heavy, potent seed. Josh, thanks to his enormous, testosterone-filled meal of sixteen dudes last night, had gained a beautiful seven inches on his already immense cock. Blake got pretty jealous, but looking at Josh now, that envy turned into slight pity.

“I really fuckin’---ooooooouuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrpppppppp” another skull clattered to Blake’s floor along with a ruined pair of boxers. The greedy pred had been belching up skulls all morning after sleeping for almost 28 hours, pushing past November first and onto the second. Judging by the amount on the hardwood floor, he still had about four acid-bleached skulls to hork up. Josh had already coughed up all the wallets and IDs that he could feel floating around in the sludge he once called his littles. He looked at them guiltily and took a shaky breath. “I really ate all of them? I don’t remember it at all. Jesus fuck. I’m a monster.”

Blake raised an eyebrow, looking down at Josh’s monster cock, still hard and oozing pre. Josh shook his head and smacked his heavy shaft, letting it swing like a massive pendulum between his spread legs. He leaned forward until he was on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees and trying to get rid of everything solid in his gut so he could finish digesting the dudes his belly rightfully wanted. Blake had tried for the entire morning to stop getting Josh to feel so guilty about this, but that wasn’t the true issue at heart.

“Dude, come on. We’ve all had the munchies before. You just had a particularly bad case of them.

“No, dude. That’s the problem. I’m still fuckin’ hungry bro. Michael was talking to me earlier and all I could imagine was feeling his legs slide down my gullet bro. My belly wanted him bad, dude.”

Blake didn’t really know how to respond to that. Looking next to the voracious jock next to him, the brother just shrugged his shoulders and pushed his face into Josh’s soft gut, letting the grumbles and gurgles surround him as Josh looked down at him from above. The dude’s cock started poking Blake, so he leaned back and placed both of his hands on his brother’s soft, hot belly that complained noisily. Poor Josh still wanted more in his gut. It was pretty incredible, actually.

“Okay, buddy, we’ll get this figured out. Preds like us are bound to have cravings now and again.”

“Wait, you’re like me? How didn’t I know this?”

“Because I don’t make it a habit to eat scores of pledges all in one night. And I’ve been saying, we need to hang out more. Anyway, I booked you an appointment with our health clinic on campus. Do you need an escort or are you okay with marching this big belly over there yourself?” Blake asked, slapping said big belly, earning a burp. 

“I can go myself,” Josh groaned. “What’s a clinic appointment gonna do though? They’re already…for my belly,” Josh didn’t know any other way to put it without sounding excessively morbid. 

“I don’t know bro, Michael made me do it. Said just make sure the bones aren’t clogging up your system or make sure it wasn’t too much food or something. Just do it to make him happy. Bros probably under a lot of stress talking to the parents and dean and shit.”

Josh guiltily rubbed his belly and let out a belch which tapered off with a moan. His gut was so insanely powerful that it could cause all this. He thought he felt his dick grow another half-inch. He vaguely remembered just one thing from last night—having sex with John. He wondered what the pledge would think of his dick now. His belly let out a big shudder. Josh shivered in pleasure. 

“Alright bro. Would you mind driving me? Don’t think I can really go out in public with this thing. Or this,” Josh flexed his cock, which spit out another glob of precum. 

“Sure thing man.”

Josh got dressed as best he could, but his gut wouldn’t really let him get any shirt on full. And, his cock was making every pair of pants exceptionally tight. Still, he ended up settling in the least garish clothes he could find. A hole in the shirt told him that it had belonged to one of his or Blake’s prey, but it was kind of hot to Josh, not knowing or caring about what belly-filler originally wore it. The two left the frat house and carried themselves down to Blake’s car. Josh put one foot in, but he had to squish his belly in order to fit. It was smashed against the dashboard, causing a hefty bit of discomfort, so all the way to the clinic, Blake and Josh had their hands all over his belly, which elicited several more earth-shaking belches. 

When they pulled up to the drop-off curb, Blake opened the door for Josh and dapped him up after another symphony of sloshes from the pledge-digesting tummy. “You’re a fuckin’ monster bro. Hope all goes well. Don’t go eating the doctor while you’re here.”

The jock froze and watched Blake get back into his car and drive off, as if he didn’t just say the most tantalizing thing he’s heard all morning. Technically, the hungry frat boy hadn’t eaten for two days, so his belly was absolutely grumbling. Josh used both hands to slowly, sensually rub his gut, trying to calm it down before his appointment. He had no idea what he was going to say, but maybe his gut could do most of the talking for him. 

The big-bellied patient walked into the waiting room and checked in. The person at the reception desk didn’t do much in response to Josh’s fat gut, but he definitely raised an eyebrow. Josh shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling very awkward and out of place here. He took a seat and rapped on his stomach, suppressing the urge to belch. It would be really uncouth to burp up another pledge’s skull in the middle of the waiting room. Josh tried pushing his still-raging boner down his pant leg, but it was still incredibly noticeable. He was at the far corner of the room, noticing several other college kids looking entirely too hungover. He was in a pretty similar predicament as them, but at least his hangover went away after the first few hours.

“Josh?” A man called out. A beautiful, chiseled Asian man walked out of a doorway. His light-blue scrubs clung to his muscles in a display of pure masculinity and strength. Josh gulped.

“That’s me,” the jock said sheepishly, getting up too quickly and letting out several loud, distracting sloshes from his tummy.

“Woah, easy there, big guy. Come on, let’s get you back to a check-up room.”

Josh followed the taller man closely behind, wondering how this would go. He had never been to the doctor for a reason as embarrassing as this. His heart was beating pretty fast, he realized. Looking at the man in scrubs before him, Josh took an interest in his thighs that bulged through his pants, the muscle abundantly clear. Hooking a sharp left, the two entered a stereotypical, clinically clean space. Josh assumed a seat on the bed laid out for patients, and the doctor took a clipboard and typed into a nearby computer like a robot.

“So, uh, Doctor…?”

“I’m not a doctor yet,” the man chuckled. “You can just call me David. I’m a grad student here, trying to get hours. You know how it is.” He winked at Josh.

“Yeah, totally,” the jock lied, shifting his hips to put less pressure on his dick.

“Okay,” David equipped a pair of latex gloves and scooted over on a rolling chair, oozing confidence and charm. Josh was quite impressed. The only thing he was missing was the actual title and coat; otherwise, he seemed like a well-practiced physician. “What brings us in today?”

Josh didn’t think he’d have to fess up to it so bluntly. He coughed awkwardly and took off his shirt, which wasn’t really covering anything anyway. “I, uh, probably ate something I shouldn’t have? I was partying pretty hard and I got pretty hungry. I guess I’m just here to make sure that I’m digesting my food okay?”

David nodded, keeping a cool layer of professionalism. He poked and prodded Josh’s beach-ball bloat, rubbing it subtly, much to the frat boy’s pleasure. He lifted the heft of Josh’s belly, flexing those biceps that bulged so prominently from his scrubs. Josh’s stomach let out a little growl, internalizing what Blake had said earlier. Josh soothed his pledge-churner with a buck of his hips, not realizing that he essentially just dry humped right onto David’s chest. He felt the tip of his cock push in between the crevice of David’s juicy pecs, and the grad student slipped up on his professionalism for just a moment.

“Woah, there. Take me out to dinner first,” he smiled.

“Sorry, sorry. It hasn’t gone down since…for a while.”

“Alright Josh, I’m gonna need to ask you,” he interrogated, squeezing both sides of the teen’s tender belly and stirring up the urge to burp, “what was it that you ate?”

The massaging hands reminded Josh of Blake’s, but the older, more precise touch felt even more intimate. Josh bit his lip and let out a sigh of relief, feeling someone take care of his needy belly. The jock put a hand on his gut to try and stifle another growl, but it didn’t work. Both he and David felt it reverberate throughout the sterile room. Josh was so distracted by David’s hands that he didn’t even realize what he was doing. Palming his hard cock through his pants, Josh let out a dizzying belch, definitely heard by everyone in the clinic, probably by everyone in a one-mile radius. As he did so, another skull was ejected out from his gullet, clattering to the tiled floor with the noise of a plastic toy. Any look at the skull would tell you the opposite though—this was a real human skull that came from Josh’s burp.

David picked it up, surprisingly calm. Knocking on it a few times, he looked at Josh, who was facing him with a look of an ashamed puppy.

“My pledges in my frat.”

“How many?”

“All of them.”

David widened his eyes in surprise, never having met someone who could take down that many guys at once. He was impressed. Placing the skull on the counter, he resumed examining Josh, placing a stethoscope on his spherical ball-belly and listening to the contents gurgle and churn around inside. They both heard another stomach growl and David shifted uncomfortably, suddenly realizing that if Josh wanted to eat him, he would. That thought was less than comforting, so David scooched back slightly, buying distance between himself and the predator.

Trying to build rapport, David said, “I remember when I was in undergrad, I would do the same thing. Hah. Enjoy this time you get!”

Josh noticed—just like when a deer gives off pheromones of fear to a predator—David’s sudden aversion to looking him in the eyes. Fuck… Josh thought. Damn it, Blake. You put the idea in my head… and he’s too good not to eat. Josh scooted forward, pressing his belly up against David.

“Didn’t you take a pledge or something? To promise to help people in any way they might need it?” Josh got a sudden coolness in his inflection, keeping steady like a lion studying its prey.

“I mean, not yet, but I’ll get there one day… Why do you ask?” David looked nervous. He bounced his pecs in a strange sort of coping mechanism, but that only excited Josh more.

“Well, Doctor. I’ve got this pain in the back of my throat. Would you mind checking it out?”

Josh opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue. A muffled pop played as Josh’s jaw unhinged wide. He pointed down his gullet, rubbing his belly to quell its insatiable need. David backed away but Josh pursued him. Eventually, the extremely fit man found his back against a wall, and he was face-to-face with Josh’s belly full of digested pledge soup. He was about to call out for help, to scream that his patient was trying to swallow him whole, but he got cut off before he could even get a word out.

Josh engulfed the man’s head in a wet, loud glomp. David’s face was washed in the jock’s spongy tongue, sliding all around his face with need. He tried using the arms he’d worked so hard for in the gym to yank himself out, but Josh gulped quickly, pinning his big, beefy arms to his sides. Josh began stroking his enlarged cock as he drooled through David’s scrubs, feeling every ridge and bump of the man’s shoulder muscles. The intense meaty flavor sent the jock into a protein-loving frenzy, moaning and making obnoxious slurping noises as his throat bulged outward to accommodate the mass of muscular doctor (grad student). David felt the throat pull him deeper, constricting his movements in the tight, wet tunnel that belonged to the fratboy. He could hear Josh’s heartbeat and stomach processes as he slid down. The jock had taken to using one hand to grope David’s bubble butt and using the other to yank on his dripping cock. If Josh could control his hunger more, he definitively would’ve fucked this handsome hunk before devouring him whole. But alas, he gulped again, feeling David’s head enter Josh’s belly.

It was almost like drowning. David moved past a tight contracted sphincter muscle that he had researched dozens of times before that lead right into the stomach chamber. This stomach was full of disgusting smelling slop that had been getting kneaded and massaged on for days at this point. Josh’s belly bulged outward slightly as he continued swallowing, sending the beautiful man deeper and deeper into his engorged midsection. The jock silently wished he hadn’t drank so much the other night because the feeling of stretching his already bloated abdomen with another dude was nearly enlightening, and it sucked that he had forgotten everything that had happened two nights ago. He wished he had a third hand to pleasure himself even further with a rubbing of his ballooning gut.

David’s body pooled into the messy sludge of Josh’s stomach chamber, yelling and pounding on the walls when he gained autonomy back. He could feel Josh’s teeth nibbling on his massive quads as they slid down his throat like spaghetti. The man—who didn’t have nearly as much muscle as David—was making an utter fool out of the grad student. This smaller upperclassman had schooled David so hard, moaning cockily as he swallowed him whole into his never-ending belly. The gurgles increased in volume as the sphincter muscle squeezed in David’s abs and pecs, massaging them until they were red and tender for the teen to digest.

Josh continued moaning in sheer bliss, feeling his stomach fill up with a guy who was even better than a pledge due to his extra muscle and age. Having already gulped down his ass, which bulged out his throat tremendously, Josh had one hand fixed around his gut and stroking his aching dick, and the other rubbing up and down his body, feeling his prey thrash and squirm around in his gullet as he pleaded for respite to no avail. Josh’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he slurped down David’s toned calves, noticeable even through his scrub pants. Peeling off the man’s shoes and socks, Josh let gravity do the rest of the work and watched as his lips slowly wrapped around his doctor’s feet, disappearing into his beautifully rounder belly. Michael would be so pissed, but Josh felt complete with a belly full of squirming men. He couldn’t say no to this feeling anymore, and Halloween night had taught him that.

Feeling the rest of the muscular man settle into his belly, Josh snapped a picture from above, getting the perfect shot of David’s face screaming for help at the top of his belly. He sent it off to Blake with a message that read, “this is your fault for putting the idea in my head. my appointment’s over. doctor needed as second look but i think hes just being thorough”

Blake read the message and responded by liking the message, too busy stroking his dick to the image Josh had sent. The way his taut stomach conformed to the man inside it was  beautiful, and Blake couldn’t wait to get closer to Josh to be around him—and his glorious belly—more. He already had two brothers lined up for him and Josh to eat when they hang out together soon. Getting back in his car, Blake sped over to the clinic to see Josh’s gut in person.

Meanwhile, Josh reassumed his seat on the examination table and put all of his attention onto David inside his belly. The gurgles, churns, and muffled screams weren’t quite in season anymore, but Josh could forgive the festivity for how good he felt. Glancing on the skull David had put on the countertop, he’d decided to leave it there, as a bit of leftover Halloween decoration. Wobbling out of the room with a bigger belly than when he went in, the frat boy smacked his lips and belched one more time, ready to digest this sexy fucker with his new best bro at his side.

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[malevoreenthusiast]

Josh's Halloween Binge

First mass vore story that I promised almost a whole year ago! Happy to finally deliver. There will be a part two to this tomorrow---just you wait! Hope you enjoy, and leave tips/suggestions if you have any :)

The amber liquid rushed down Josh’s long throat for the umpteenth time that night. If Josh was honest with himself, he didn’t like partying that much, which was probably why he went so hard on the alcohol. Chucking the last beer can in his overflowing trash can, Josh let out a hefty belch and got up, feeling dizzy already. The sloshing of the golden beer in his gut was noisy, and it made the jock giggle slightly upon hearing it. Lifting up his shirt, a slight swell of his tummy revealed just how much he had drunk in the past hour. A rough hand caressed the underside of his belly, realizing that he didn’t eat anything to soak up all that booze. With a hiccup, he rifled around in his room for some protein bar or some leftover snack he had lying around, but he knew it was a fruitless endeavor. Josh rarely lets food just sit around in his room for long.

The young man belly-flopped onto his plush bed, wriggling around on the sheets with the dramatics of a whining puppy. He could probably abscond with something from his neighbor Blake if he asked, but the two weren’t that close, and it’d be kind of awkward. They were friendly and cared for each other like brothers, (the hazing traditions for SAE would do that to you) but the two tended to stick to their own circles mostly. Josh maneuvered to a position where his upper body hung off the side of the bed, peering under his mattress in hopes that some mouse had stored a treasure trove of food for him to find and eat. Alas, nothing. However, the sound of someone clearing their throat made Josh stand up like an attentive watchdog. 

“Hey, uh Josh? You busy?”

“No, no I’m just…” the frat boy slurred his words, “Heyyyy John, buddy. Happy Halloween, it’s good to—UUUUUURRRRRPPPP—see you. How’ya been man?”

John stepped into the room, crushing a beer can under his feet. With a pursed grin, he recognized the source of Josh’s inebriation. Flicking his eyes to the rest of the floor and trash can, John dared a question: “Hey, bro, how much have you had to drink?”

“A little—*hic*—why?”

“Nevermind, hey could you help me out? I’m trying to paint myself to be a skeleton but it’s kinda hard to paint yourself. Could you help?”

“Sure buddy, come on, let's go to the bathroom first.”

Josh stumbled up and nearly fell back onto his bed if John hadn’t rushed over to catch him. The frat boy patted his little on the chest, pausing for a moment when he realized John was shirtless.

“Damn, buddy. You been workin ou—*hic*—without me?”

“We hit legs this morning, Josh. Are you okay? How much did you drink?”

“Ohh yeahhh, I remember!” He didn’t. “Come on, let’s go beef cake!”

The two waddled into the messy bathroom and flicked on the yellow fluorescents. Josh plucked the little tub of black paint and paintbrush from his little and swept a bunch of junk around the counter to make space. Josh lifted his freshman pet up onto the counter and pulled him close by the lower back so he could paint his face easier. John was blushing at the overt display of dominance, but he didn’t say anything. Josh was drunk—that’s why he was acting so weird. 

“What are you going for here? A skelling..ton?”

“Yeah bro, could you just finished the skull?”

Josh leaned in with the paintbrush in hand. He rubbed the label slightly, reading it as non-toxic. As he made small, subtle brush strokes on John, his mind began to be filled with an odd feeling. John smelled incredible. He had a natural scent that vaguely reminded him of BO and beef jerky—two things Josh was very familiar with. There was also a hint of something else, nebulous, like pheromones or sex. Josh couldn’t quite put his finger on it, so he put his nose on it instead. Leaning close towards his pledge, Josh took a deep with a groaned with delight. 

“Fuck, man. You smell fucking incredible.” Josh hadn’t realized it, but his bloated gut was pressing against John’s crotch, adhering to his soft member almost like a fleshlight. 

John could feel himself twitching to life in his groin. He knew it wasn’t allowed to fuck a brother during pledge season, and though they rule was broken almost universally, John was a bit of a goody-two-shoes. He scooted his but back on the counter. Unfortunately, Josh gripped John’s hips and pulled him right back. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Josh had angled John’s hips to be perpendicular to Josh’s. The pledges' legs were spread out around Josh, and if not for clothes, there was dangerously little space between Josh’s cock and John’s hole. Josh leaned in again to smell John, groaning lightly and gripping his little by the hips possessively. John tried leaning away, but Josh pulled him in closer. Somewhere along the lines, the paint tub had been set down across the counter, out of reach to John. Josh’s advances were indefensible. The frat boy ran his nose from John’s neck down to the swell of his pecs, down his curled abs, to between his legs, dusted with hair. John couldn’t say a word, as his membership to the frat rested almost solely on Josh, and Josh was too drunk for him to see that what he was doing was insane. 

The brown-haired jock teased John’s waistband, pulling it down slightly to reveal a hefty cock, already leaking. John tried to explain himself—Josh was being delicate, just like a girl, so his cock naturally thought he was getting some, and plus his belly felt almost like a girl’s hand with how soft it was, and—John’s entire body tensed. Josh had wrapped his lips around John’s girth cock, swirling his wet tongue around his mushroom head passionately. Josh’s mouth was warm, inviting even. John was only a man, and a real man never said no to getting head. Maybe Josh was testing him? Regardless, a shiver went up his spine as the fratboy bobbed his head, taking in more of his cock with ease. Most girls would’ve gagged at this point, but evidently, Josh could take really big things down his throat with ease. 

John didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help himself. He slowly raised his hand and placed it in the back of Josh’s head, pressing lightly to make him take more of his cock. If this went poorly, he’d be kicked out in seconds; however, Josh didn’t seem to notice. John dared to press a little harder, making Josh go all the way down. The jock kept on sucking, wrapping his tight throat around his member and swallowing, as if he wanted more inside him. John hadn’t ever felt this good before. Josh’s warm, wet, tight throat massaged his shaft brilliantly, making loud slurping and sucking noises all the while. The little spread his legs a little farther apart and rested his other hand on Josh’s soft hair, now face-fucking his senior brother. 

Josh moaned with want, his hands gripping John’s hefty thighs as he tried getting a load out of his little. The dude smelled incredible, and when Josh got between his legs, the dude’s musk was enticing as a wedding cake. Josh couldn’t help himself. He didn’t even care that his inferior had placed his hands in his head and guided his lips deeper down this surprisingly massive shaft. All Josh wanted was to be filled—to stop feeling this hunger. He redoubled his efforts, vacuuming his cheeks so they too would stimulate the sensitive cock he found himself wrapped around. That seemed to have quite an effect on the pledge, as John gripped his head by either side and began ferociously pounding into the frat boy, skull-fucking him with wild abandon. Few things are as primal as a man about to ejaculate—Josh knew this, so he let it happen, wanting something substantial in his gut. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” John roared, bottoming out in Josh’s mouth and feeling his balls contract as they pushed the load out of his dick. The heavy white liquid gushed down Josh’s throat, coating it in the warm, sticky substance. It felt like eating pudding left out in the sun for too long, Josh thought, but swallowed greedily anyway. Just as he was about to pull off, John pushed his head back down, still having cum to eject. Josh continued swallowing, his eyes growing wider and wider as his little spurted an inordinate amount of baby batter into his throat. Josh began rubbing his growing belly, feeling it bulge heavily with John’s semen. After several minutes, John let go, his chest rising and falling in heavy pants as he felt Josh pull off from his dick with a loud pop! Then, as Josh rose up, his larger belly in view—all John’s fault—the reality of the situation hit him. 

“Josh, dude. I’m sorry, I don’t know what just happened. I’ve had a bit to drink tonight, I didn’t mean to…”

Josh felt strangely calm. The only thought he could find coherently was that he was still hungry. And John still smelled good. Maybe it was the drunken haze, maybe it was the lustful haze, maybe it was the horror in the air coming with the season, but Josh shook his head to comfort John. Then, in a quick motion, John’s world went dark, the last thing he saw being a pink, fleshy tongue and two rows of gleaming teeth. 

Josh walked out of the bathroom completely unsure of what happened. He imagined John had gone out to get some more paint, as he had forgotten where he placed it (it was right in front of him the whole time, of course, but Josh didn’t think to look anywhere, really. The jock nearly fell over, grasping onto a nearby bureau for support but clattering various picture frames and keepsakes to the ground. Looking down, Josh immediately assumed the reason for why he was so off balance: his belly. 

To call his stomach huge would be an understatement. The jock marveled at his belly, gurgling with pure, elated delight. He’d never felt his belly sound so happy before, if that’s what you would call this. He knew John’s load was huge, but this was insane, and he’s never swallowed a dude’s load that made his stomach…move? Something was squirming in his stomach, writhing around like a fish out of water. If Josh wasn’t so engrossed in how incredible it felt, he would’ve been much more attentive as to what was going on. His cock was at half mast, slapping between his thighs as if he had just came several times and was drained of baby batter, but he remembered nothing. Josh rubbed his engorged tummy and lifted himself up, careful to make sure his newfound belly wouldn’t knock over anything. Step by step, Josh wobbled his gut forward, pushing it through the doorway and beginning his trek down the hall to find John. Fortunately a cracked door had golden light flowing from the crevice. The big-bellied jock wondered if he could find John over there. 

Pushing himself in belly-first, Josh found Enrique, another pledge, smearing fake blood over his bare torso. Josh cleared his throat and let out a small belch. 

“Hey bro, have you seen John? I lost him after…” The jock trailed off as Enrique turned around, eyes widening as his eyes lowered to Josh’s midsection, definitely seeing the bulge of a handprint that Josh failed to notice. Enrique stepped back in fear, but Josh took that as an invitation to step in and close the door behind him. 

Enrique raised his hands as if to pacify the drunken frat boy, “Josh, I don’t know where he is, but please don’t get any closer. This’ll all be okay… alright?” The poor pledge didn’t know if this was all some weird hazing ritual—getting locked up in Josh’s gut, but he didn’t want to find out. 

Josh wiped a bit of drool that seeped out the corner of his mouth, moistening his lips for a meal his body was apparently anticipating. 

“Nah, buddy, you’re all good. By the way,” Josh pointed to a beer on the counter, “you gonna finish that?”

Completely frozen in fear, Josh reached forward, belly pressing up against Enrique and pinning him to the bathroom counter. Josh downed the fizzy liquid and set the can back onto the marble finish. Then, it was faint, but he caught a whiff of Enrique’s scent—most likely a byproduct of the fear Josh was causing. Josh leaned in, and the rest was quite hazy. 

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Josh awoke with something enormous in his mouth. Having always been taught to finish his food, the greedy man swallowed, feeling a hefty bit of movement coming from his gut, which had nearly quadrupled in size since whenever he had met with Enrique. Josh looked around, choking down the last bit of food, tracking the massive piece of meat—Josh wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but it tasted magnificent—down his throat and into his expanding belly, which he felt two pairs of hands rub over. Tracing the hands up, Josh was met with two more of his pledges, both sweating profusely and entertaining a frenetic look in their eyes. Something in his engorged belly kept trying to squirm around, and these boys kept pushing it in, making sure Josh’s stomach stayed a perfect sphere. 

“What the fuck is happen—“

“Okay guys, I found another one,” Blake flung open his door with a chunky man in a headlock. He was pounding his fist against Blake’s bicep to no effect. Blake tightened his grip. 

Josh looked again, analyzing his surroundings. Somehow, he had made it to Blake’s room. The room’s floor was layered in a pile of clothes that Josh was fairly sure didn’t belong to Blake. He even thought he saw the shirt that Enrique was wearing, and there seemed to be a pair of ripped jeans that Marco had always loved to wear, but they looked waterlogged and crumpled. Blake must get hella play, Josh thought. 

“Josh, buddy! How’s it going? How’re you feeling?”

Josh sputtered, completely lost on what was going on. He tried getting up, but his gigantic gut completely threw his weight off balance, and he only could manage to wobble slightly in his drunken state.

 “Blake? What’s going—UUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP—on? Why’re Benson and Rafiq…rubbing my gut? The fuck happened to my abs?”

Blake caressed Josh’s gut, making the stud moan softly. His belly was very sensitive, and rubbing it felt practically equivalent to masturbation. Josh crumpled the sheets in a white-knuckled fist as Blake continued touching him in just the right way. 

“Don’t worry about that, bro. Hey, you and I should hang out more, okay? Just mull on that and go back to sleep, yeah?”

Josh nodded, unsure why he was following these directions, but all the alcohol in his system made sleep feel like a tantalizing mistress right now. Josh felt his eyelids getting heavy and his throat open wide for something huge being pushed inside. Instinctually, the man gulped, then, against all odds, he found himself back asleep.

Eyelids fluttered open, and the first thing the stud could think of was how incredible he felt. As his eyes adjusted to the darkened surroundings, Josh recognized the torn couches and the walls decorated in old wine boxes and beer decals. An obnoxious “Saturdays are for the Boys” flag hung on the far wall. Josh tried getting up but failed miserably. Just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, Michael’s—the frat president—harsh voice seethed throughout the living room.

“How the fuck did we let this happen? How did one frat member cancel Halloween? I was supposed to get some tonight,” the business major lamented, pushing both of his hands on a tanned mass in the center of the room.

“Are you sure we can’t get them out? They’re all moving pretty hard in there. Maybe if we just…”

“Dude, don’t! We already lost Trent that way. Let this be a lesson to all of you: never over do it on the alcohol!” Michael boomed, rage prominent on his handsome face.

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Josh tugged something that had risen out from his throat, though it didn’t feel like food. A raggedy t-shirt had inexplicably come up from his belch. He pulled the spit-slicked fabric from his mouth and used it as a napkin, wiping his face off, which only made it wetter, smearing his spittle all over himself. Josh let out a giggle at the realization.

“Oh good. The fatass is awake,” Michael scoffed, looking over and pushing on the mass extra hard, which Josh realized was attached to him.

“Michael? What’s up dude?” Josh felt hazy everywhere, but several strong forces were pushing against some faraway part of him, which felt like a full body massage. Looking down, Josh realized what was happening. His belly—bigger than him, bigger than anyone, bigger than his whole family—was a writhing mass in the middle of the living room. Josh could make out several legs and feet, heads that were thrashing about locked inside his belly. As the jock focused, he could feel the sensations of them moving around all inside his belch-tank, pleading for their lives as his gut groaned and churned like an industrial machine. Josh moaned in ecstasy as his mind-fog cleared and the unadulterated pleasure swept him up in a blaze of heavenly bliss. The frat boy belched and rubbed his belly, unable to even reach the peak of his gut, bloated and happily rumbling over the human-shaped masses he had in there.

“What’s up?” the senior repeated, a vein bulging from his neck. “What’s up, Josh? That’s all you have to say for yourself? What the fuck did you do?!” The man shouted at the top of his lungs, scaring the dozen other frat members that were rubbing Josh’s belly. Then, answering his own question, still in a fiery ire, Michael screamed, “You ate the entire fucking pledge class! You swallowed all of them whole! What the fuck were you thinking?!”

The room was quiet, save for Josh’s belly, shifting and moving as if it were alive, which, technically, there was a great deal of life inside the dude’s gut. Josh belched low and slow, letting out a great deal of oxygen for his belly’s residents. The squirming picked up, and Josh tried to contain his arousal, but he couldn’t help but subtly dry hump his own pledge-packed gut. Josh rubbed his hands slowly on the carpet beneath him. Somewhere along the lines he had parked himself in the middle of the living room, and now his brothers were all rubbing his gut, for some reason. Josh asked, suppressing a burp, “Why’re you guys rubbing my belly? It feels fucking fantastic, don’t get me wrong, but why didn’t you try to…get them out?”

Michael nearly burst a blood vessel when he shrieked, “We fucking tried! But you ate Trent! He’s in there with the pledges now, fucker!”

“Oh,” was all Josh could respond with. He smacked his lips, trying to remind himself of these events, looking down at his belly and seeing a particularly bulky shape in his behemoth stomach, which he wondered if that was Trent.

“Okay, come on now, Josh was just drunk. He’s not even gonna remember this in the morning,” Blake’s charming voice piped up. He appeared right next to Josh with several gallon jugs of water, patting his suite-mate on the shoulder and winking at him. Josh managed a weak smile in return, thankful he had at least one guy on his side. He was thankful, too, for the seventeen guys in his gut, too.

Josh was about to add in on the conversation, but Blake knew better than to let the drunk douchebag try to defend himself, so he attached one of the water jugs to Josh’s lips, and in an instant he locked in on the sensation of swallowing, gulping, and opening his throat to let the water cascade into his belly. It was almost scary, Josh realized after finishing, how the time had just become a blur when he was downing that water. He could only imagine what it was like to swallow his pledges whole.

“‘Just drunk’ doesn't result in a brother eating the entire fucking pledge class, Blake! What the hell are we gonna tell the dean, or will Josh eat him too?”

Blake tilted his head and shrugged as if he was considering the idea. Michael shook his head with disgust. “Dude, lay off him. Put him on probation or something, but you gotta understand where bro was coming from. We’ve all wanted, and some of us have, eaten a pledge before, right?” Blake looked around and some of the frat members nodded guiltily, while others looked down and blushed. “Josh was the only one man enough to take ‘em all. I say that’s pretty commendable!” 

Josh opened his mouth again to speak, but Blake didn’t want his toes to be stepped on, so he was instead met with another gallon of water, glugging it down like his life depended on it. When he finished funneling the liquid that didn’t even make a dent in increasing his stomach, he frowned, again realizing that every time he had something near his mouth he didn’t want to stop until it reached the pits of his gut.

Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrpppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp

Michael was still enraged, but Josh’s smooth talking and the brothers’ quiet agreement with Blake made him step down, just a bit. He seethed quietly, spitting, “If this mother fucker ever pulls something like this again, he’s out. And no more drinking for him anymore. We can’t have something like this happening again. And he needs to go to the doctor tomorrow. This can’t be good for him.”

Blake feigned a fawning motion. “Aw, you still care for your wittle bwother,” he cooed in a baby voice. “Don’t worry, once he wakes up for real, I’ll send him over to the clinic. Poor dude’s gonna have one helluva hangover tomorrow.”

It already was tomorrow. Josh had woken up at around 1:12 AM of November first, which was still Halloweekend for the frat and all of Greek life. He looked around at his brothers and felt pretty guilty—exacerbated by the fact that he was fairly sure he wasn’t going to remember any of this tomorrow. However, his guilt didn’t stop him from moaning into his forearm as he felt a dozen pairs of hands knead and push his belly—and the boys he swallowed whole—into submission. Loud, wet gurgles resonated from his tan, spherical, titanic gut that squelched and bubbled around the fresh meat it was trying to digest. Inside, the textured lining of Josh’s stomach squeezed John, Enrique, Benson, and over a dozen others as they became a tangle of limbs and body parts all becoming equally coated in juices for Josh to have an easier time digesting. They spoke to each other frantically, wondering how this single frat boy had the stomach capacity and ability to swallow each and every one of them whole down his greedy throat and into his accommodating gut.

Blake patted Josh’s gut and gave him more water to chug. It was mesmerizing at this point, watching Josh’s throat bulge out and contract with each swallow as he gulped the water down. Blake had a hand in feeding Josh almost all of the pledges, but nobody needed to know that. He didn’t care much for the lot of them this year anyway. The scene played out slowly for hours, until Josh fell back asleep and the rest of the brothers, exhausted from having to take care of the stud’s gut for hours instead of getting wasted on Halloween, retreated to their rooms, eyes still widened in shock at what Josh had done. It was awful, sure, but everybody secretly envied Josh. Some of them even envied the pledges, though that was between them and their dicks, which they would be ferociously pumping at the thought of being the next meal for the greedy jock.

At around three, it was just Josh and Blake, still rubbing the belly which had grown just a little smaller, all of the occupants squished even closer together in the sweltering belly. Josh continued trying to dry-hump his belly, but he didn’t want to be too obvious. Inside, John, who was at the bottom of Josh’s gut, could feel the pred’s rock-hard shaft poking into him like it had done so before. Very vaguely, Josh recalled fucking John before stuffing him down his throat, and he was somewhat sure that he had done the same with Enrique, but his balls could already go for a sixth…seventh round? It was hard to recall how much cum he had dumped into the two pledges.

“So…” Blake started, “feeling full?”

“Bbbbbooouuuurrrrrrpppppppp—a little, though I could still probably fit Michael in here.”

“You don’t mean that, buddy. Imagine how he feels. He’s gonna have to explain to the dean, probably the police, everybody what happened. A lot of the pledges this year were legacies to Sigma Alpha—their dads might understand, but they’re probably going to want a word with you. Think you can handle a bunch of seasoned preds like that?”

Josh belched and smirked, wondering if the next time he would be able to remember eating all of the guys. He imagined the flavor of a particular guy may run in the family. Impossibly, his stomach growled, telling Blake everything he needed to know.

“Jesus man, well alright. C’mon, let’s get you up to my bed. I’m gonna keep a close eye on you tonight just to make sure all that booze isn’t having a…more adverse effect on you, though I think the damage is done. You cool with that?”

“I don’t think I can get up for a bit.”

“We seriously have got to hang out more, man. Come on, I’ll help you.”

[malevoreenthusiast]

What’s the kinkiest thing each of your pred did?

As in besides being sexually gratified at the thought of swallowing someone whole and digesting them whilst they rub their enormous, squirming belly?

I imagine that a lot of them enjoy and partake in public sex. Josh is probably the worst offender, fucking twinks on the couch in the middle of the frat party whilst everyone can see him rearranging the dude’s guts.

Freddie likes to watch himself and Brayden have sex, so he’s always recording his pov or Brayden’s to watch and jack off to later.

Gavin loves being milked. All of my pred produce inane amounts of cum but Gavin needs to ejaculate several times per day or else his balls would feel like they’re going to explode. Gavin likes to choose one (un)lucky freshman and use them as a sex slave to empty his balls until they make him hungry.

This is a hard question honestly because all of my preds are definitely into vore itself which is on the kinkier side already. I’m not quite sure. Any other thoughts?

[malevoreenthusiast]

Who would you say is your most “show off” pred? Like I can imagine Gavin having an only fans showing off videos of him eating guys

Really good question. I think Gavin is more the type to sit back and revel in his prey-filled gut rather than show it off. I’m thinking back to his private collection of skulls and how on the cruise he quickly retreated to the room after swallowing Lucas and Elliot. I think the pred most likely to show off might be Freddie? I feel like Brayden would constantly try to convince him to show him off to people because in Brayden’s mind, there’s nothing better in the world than his big-bellied boyfriend, which would then lead Freddie to gulping Brayden down and showing him off to his friends and strangers. Also, remember the beach? He was lying there with a huge gut for the world to see for hours before they went home. Freddie would totally do a TikTok livestream (we’ve spoken about this idea before too in asks!) where he had a prey and would burp for gifts and pov shots and all that fun stuff. Good question!

[malevoreenthusiast]

Do any of your preds have a special/hidden talent (besides vore 😏)

I’m gonna assume that having a near limitless stomach capacity is also not counted here? Haha

I could maybe think of a couple! Josh and Blake are both really talented artists—Josh likes to draw and Blake likes painting landscapes.

Nick has a near photographic memory which makes him excellent on tests and board games and explaining to his dads exactly how he ended up eating a different family this time.

Drew and Leo are great dancers and singers! They’ve done karaoke night more than a few times and always wow the audience (before Drew shoves them down his cock and feeds it to a very whiny, very hungry Leo)

Thanks for the ask! Maybe I’ll do these in more of a roulette style rotation where I just answer with the first three that come to my head as opposed to long lists of everyone?

[malevoreenthusiast]

Are Josh and Blake dating? I thought they were just good friends

They’re friends with benefits I’d say. They’re insanely close though and really do care for and love each other in their own way. It’s the kinda thing where if Josh brought a guy home, Blake would have to have a chat with him to make sure they’re a good enough person to be dating Josh (and Josh would do the same thing for Blake). If they don’t live up to the expectations, in the belly they go.

[malevoreenthusiast]

Replying to the gen v comment, unfortunately its only people going out except for one scene at the very start of episode one where he is slurping up a keg of beer at a party and it just shows people using their powers very recklessly. We can only imagine them going in but its still cool to see something like this in a fairly popular show.

Very cool to see stuff like that! I feel like vore has gotten more mainstream over the years. My friends and I joke about it all the time so it seems pretty normalized now where people are at least aware of it and therefore less disgusted about it, which is chill!

[malevoreenthusiast]

I want some more fun facts about your preds. I feel like Gavin is scared of spiders and Freddie likes to watch rom coms instead of action movies.

Ask you shall receive! I’d say the two you gave are great, but here’s a few I can come up with on the spot:

Freddie has a very early bedtime, and he is not used to going out. He does wake up super early in the mornings, though. He probably goes to bed at around 9:30 every night and can hardly function past that time!

Gavin loves to garden, and he has a huge flower garden back home that he loves weeding and priming every season. Spring is also his favorite season.

Josh is an anime fanatic and goes to the gym just so he can look like his favorite anime characters. He has a little collection of figures that he keeps in his closet because he doesn’t want people finding out, but Blake thinks it’s really cute and watches with Josh whenever he builds up the courage to ask. Speaking of, Blake is big on meditation and he has a group of people he likes to meditate out on his college’s main quad early in the mornings.

The other Josh is big on cosplaying (I’m sure you might’ve gathered something like that from my first story) and loves going to conventions—yes, to fill his belly with other cosplayers, but also to go talk about his favorite games or characters with others. (Also, side note: I know it’s confusing to have two Joshes but I didn’t think anyone would actually read let alone like these stories enough to want more, so I just used both of their irl names for the story, which both happen to be Josh.)

James is huge on body building, and as a result, loves to meal prep. This lead to a passion for cooking, and though nothing is as protein-packed and delicious as a scrawny dude starting at the gym, James loves to prepare dishes that could be considered a close second. He also loves cooking for people to show his affection.

I could go on, but I feel like this covers the most popular preds! I truly love answering asks in general and asks like these, so thanks!