Can we get some more Sans pred oral vore with disposal, especially with other characters (asriel, papyrus, asgore, etc) as prey?
Yeah, I’d love to! No one else is making this kinda content, after all, and this whole blog was set up on making the content I wanna see that no one else has made.
S.ans belches lazily, flopped back on the couch, arms folded behind his head and his usual lazy grin plastered on his face. The only difference in the usual scene for the skeleton is the red scarf half hanging from his jaws and the bulging blue stomach sticking above him. He'd gotten into a little brotherly argument with P.aps, as usual, and it ended with his brother trying to sit on him 'since he's just going to be as useful as a couch cushion', according to him. S.ans had opened his mouth to laugh and...well...apparently, P.apyrus's ass fit a little too well into his jaws. So S.and had no choice but to start gulping to clear his mouth, much to his brother's chagrin. S.ans just planned to mess with him a bit, keep his bro packed away, and then cough him up or simply dispel his stomach and let him flop out. He'd do it soon, once he's had his fun. But 'soon' was quickly becoming 'after a nap' with a food coma hitting S.ans. And he was never one to resist a good nap, so he fell asleep quickly, planning to let his brother out when he woke up next. Unfortunately for both him and P.apyrus, S.ans's stomach didn't really make much of a distinction between 'food magic' and 'monster magic'. So with him falling asleep, the hungry stomach was free to have its way with the free meal it was given. P.apyrus's yelling and squirming would soon go from annoyed to worried and panicked as he felt the stomach steadily breaking him down, turning the magic that made up his body into a boiling stew in S'ans's guts. P.apyrus knew his brother was always a deep sleeper, so even as he yelled for him to wake up and pushes on the fleshy walls, he knew nothing was going to rouse the smaller skeleton from his sleep. That's why he ended up going still, curling in on himself as he was steadily broken down. All his efforts amounted to a lazy belch escaping S.ans, making him pat his stomach in his sleep as it worked. Before long, even the soft whimpering of his brother would be drowned out by thick bubbling sounds, and his stomach steadily shrinks down inch by inch as P.aps is broken down and pumped away. The whole process would keep S.ans asleep, and he wouldn't stir until much later in the day, his stomach now causing his shirt to ride up a bit as he sits up. He scratches his belly and lifts one leg so he can rip ass. He snickers, expecting to hear P.apyrus complain about how rude and gross that was...but the only sound he gets is a groaning sound in his guts. He scratches his chin in thought when he feels the scarf still hanging from his jaws. He pulls it out and his eye sockets widen. He forgot about P.aps! And that building pressure in his bowels...he winces as he rips ass again and gets up to drop his shorts. Surely his brother is still solid, right? He just went too deep, that's all! S.ans grunts as he starts pushing...and what comes out is soft logs of crap, plopping onto the floor with wet thuds as it builds up. He's still hoping the weird sounds and awful smell don't mean anything, but when he turns around, S.ans is only faced with a pile of soft shit. All the excess magic his body found too be too much had come out, and that's all that's left of P.apyrus. Even worse...now S.ans has no one to clean it up for him.
It was late at night, S.ans the last customer before G.rillby closed up the bar. He'd been cleaning some glasses when S.ans asked "Hey G.rillbz, can I get somethin' off of the secret menu? I feel like I've had everything to eat here. Thinkin' I need something new." G.rillby has no idea what S.ans is asking and simply shakes his head. Before he can get back to work, though, his entire body is sized as his soul goes blue. S.ans's eye glow bright as he forces the bartender up against the bar. He takes off the buns from the burger he'd been served earlier and puts them over one of G.rillby's hands. "This'll do. Thanks, G.rillbz." His drooling maw opens wide and G.rillby can't resist as Sans engulfs his entire hand. S.ans closes his eyes, letting out a pleased groan as he starts taking thick, wet gulps. G.rillby is dragged right over the bar. He's panicking silently, but he still can't move at all, forced to simply sit there and watch as S.ans's jaws come in closer and closer...then they're opening wide and his head is diving right inside. S.ans keeps gulping, pulling more and more of the bartender down the hatch. When he gets to G.rillby's waist, he tips his head back and slurps hard, sucking down his legs in an instant. His stomach slams into the bar as he packed the rest of his friend away, now hanging down low between his legs and smushed between the bar stool and bar counter. A pleased groan escapes S.ans as the last of his friend slides into his gut. "That really hit the spot. Best thing on the menu..." With a slurp of his lips, S.ans snaps his fingers, and he goes from sitting on the stool to laying back on the bar, his stomach up in the air. He yawns and closes his eyes, slurping over his teeth again. "Well, food coma's kickin' in. See ya in the morning, G.rillbz." S.ans closes his eyes and dozes right off. At the same time, the blue magic finally stops, and it allows G.rillby to begin kicking and struggling around with all his might in a desperate attempt to escape the churning walls surrounding him. He makes S.ans belch, a plume of smoke leaking from his jaws and a pair of spectacles flying into the air...but that's the most G.rillby can manage. A few belches is all he can force out of S.ans before the groaning stomach has weakened him too much. His magic is fast fading, turning into a thick soup in the skeleton's gut, and halfway through the night that's all he is anymore: gut slop. And it'd all pump away through the rest of the night, packing onto S.ans's frame and into his bowels. When he came to early in the morning, he could feel the need to go, and figures there's no better place than the bar. So S.ans gets up and drop his shorts. He squats down and grunts, a rumbling fart escaping him. Then warm shit followed, thick logs sliding out and along the bar counter. Nothing distinctive of G.rillby is left, other than his uniform baked into the thick log S.ans is pushing out. It slides along the bar top, knocking over a few glasses as it takes up space, and when S.ans's pinches the last of it off, he's covered most of the top. He looks back at the mess with his usual grin, gives it a wave, and then pops out of sight. No one would know why G.rillby's bar is locked up tight that morning other than S.ans, who would simply say he got the best meal G.rillby ever made before he left.
A.sgore slinks into the supermarket, glancing around with a worried expression. A.sriel was visiting from college and had offered to do A.sgore's shopping from him today. That had been three hours ago, and A.sgore finally decided it was time to come looking for his kid. No one is around, though, other than that skeleton behind the counter, looking half asleep despite his entrance. A.sgore gives the aisles a once over, and when he sees nothing there, he goes over to the counter and knocks on it. S.ans opens one eye to look up at him. "Hey, big guy. Buying something?" A.sgore shakes his head. "No, no, I'm looking for my son, actually! He came by to do some shopping but hasn't come back. I was hoping you'd seen him here earlier?" A.sgore glances around nervously again. There's a weird sound in the air...like a boiling pot or something. He looks back down at S.ans, who yawns lazily. "Mm...was he a goat like you? Big smaller, bit thinner, easy to fluster?" A.sgore blinks but nods softly. "Er, yes, that sounds like him." Before he can ask more, S.ans opens his jaws wide and points inside with one finger. "Reach in and grab him. Might be in time to pull something out." A.sgore is...understandably confused by what that means and what that has to do with his son, but he's also a big pushover, so he stares into those drooling jaws for a second before doing as he was told. His paw sinks in rather easily, sitting into S.ans's jaws and then sliding down his gullet with no effort. He's up to his elbow when his hand pushes into the stomach. It's wet and slimy...there's a thick sludge inside and...something solid? Before he can pull his hand back out, though, S.ans's jaws clamp down on his arm and he gulps. As.gore yelps as he's pulled down, sucked deeper. "W-Wait, what are you doing? Let me go! I can't get my arm--mmmf!" Another thick gulp sucks in A.sgore's head, muffling his pleased nicely. S.ans closes his eyes and keeps gulping hard, steadily sucking the much bigger goat down the hatch. His jaws stretch effortlessly over a broad chest and thick gut and kicking legs, all of which slide over the counter and right down the hatch with ease. His stomach is a tight fit under the counter, though, big enough to reach the floor and squishing against all sides of the counter as A.sgore's kicking feet are sucked down. A loud belch rattles out of S.ans as A.sgore settles in and he sighs contently. "Sorry...guess you just missed him. He stopped kicking about an hour ago. But hey, if it helps, he was calling for you the whole time. I'm sure he'd...mm...enjoy your company more if he were still solid..." S.ans's stomach is churning hard, eager for more meat to process. It doesn't take long for A.sgore to realize the thick sludge he's sitting in was A.sriel, and the bones floating in it are all that's left of him. Muffled screams go unanswered, though, and S.ans merely lazes behind the counter as his guts churn and gurgle intensely. A.sgore would take much longer than A.sriel to break down, but by the time anymore customers show up, the heavy gurgling of the skeleton's stomach is all the noise left and all it does is earn him some weird looks. The two goats would steadily pump away soon enough, earning S.ans a lot of extra heft that makes his baggy shorts a little tight and his shirt no longer obscure his soft stomach--not that he's complaining. He'd set up a 'gone fishin' sign when the pressure becomes too much and leaves his post to abuse the dumpster behind his store. Hoisting himself up, S.ans starts pushing, letting thick, dense logs slide out of his ass and drop into the dumpster below. Tufts of white fur and bones sticking out of the otherwise brown muck, though it'd be the stained pink shirt and pair of goat skulls that would clue in anyone over what made the pile. At least, if anyone dares to look in the dumpster, which S.ans was sure they wouldn't. So after he pushed out a few more logs, he hops off and slams the lid down. He rubs over his new pot belly as he waddles back inside the store.