TV Time Man my beloved!! Imagine him scarfing some little guy down but not being quite full since he's so big... so he shrinks until he's stuffed :)
I love this idea, the poor clingy guy needs to be able to feel whoever it is, holding them tight as possible he's gonna cry both sad and happy tears when he finds out its called extreme cuddling, knowing they're not gonna abandon him (like everyone else)
he wants to be noticed (hard to ignore from in there), he wants to serve a Lightner as per his purpose (and I can make many arguments for why vore still counts XD), he's desperate for that emotional connection and the amount of trust his prey'd have to have (no seriously I think he'd start ugly crying at the tiniest amount of even platonic intimacy)
plus he can shrink. :3c I don't think you understand how badly I need to monch, force him to take a break, hold and care for HIM for a change, switch off that frantic "I gotta perform to entertain the audience!!" mentality
gets all mopey and shrinks, so you go to comfort him - either he stress-eats you out of sheer bpd clinginess, or is so incoherent in his request that you just keep patting his shoulder and nodding along without comprehending the subject change and then *GULP*
..... I'm not the only one who had their vore brain Activated by that "evil" pose, right? told myself I wasn't gonna ditch Email Guy and yet as soon as he snapped "Until you LIKE it!" I was ready to yeet myself past those fangs - I feel a bit better since they're definitely exes
also between "robot" and "Darkner magic (aka power of Lightner will)" I ain't gotta justify why/how it would be safe. Dude's the Boss Monster of his realm and capable of altering reality to a specific extent, so there :P
Bless Toby for allowing us to save him without ruining our Weird Route.
... does it date me that I grew up with a CRT television? and that my sibling remembers all the quirks of those things?
Edit: anyway I have a discord if people like to yap about this sort of thing 👉👈📺📨
A look into the life of a 15-year-old Christopher, and what it was like for him to meet his first ever human. Not sure if I'll continue this later, but I wanted to share what I had so far.
Contains: language, anxiety/panic, vague mentions of domestic violence/verbal abuse, and unwilling but safe vore. About 4.3k words.
13 Years Ago
He could hear the rough, uneven steps coming down the hall, instantly recognizable. Every nerve in his body twitched, suddenly on high alert, though outwardly, his body didn’t betray any sign of distress.
His eyes darted over to the clock next to his bed, nestled on the windowsill. Six o’ clock, right on schedule. It was a routine. Get home from work, watch TV, get surly and wasted. It was always a gamble whether or not Christopher’s door would get thrown open so his dad could “check up” on him. Not that his dad cared enough to ask how he was doing in school or anything—he usually just needed something to yell at.
Christopher lost focus on the book he was reading, and no matter how many times his eyes scanned the words, nothing stuck anymore. The pages started to swim together in his mind. His fingers gripped the edge of the book a little tighter, and his heart began to beat in his ears a little louder.
The footsteps got closer, taking the same path through the house he’d committed to memory. They stopped just outside of his door, and Christopher held his breath, waiting for the sound of his doorknob turning and the inevitable, senseless berating.
But then his father continued down the hall, as if he’d simply lost interest in Christopher altogether. And from the sound of it, he’d simply found a new target for the anger—something in the kitchen that hadn’t gotten cleaned properly.
He wished he could block out the sound of his parents arguing back and forth, but his ears picked up each word clearly, even through the walls. He grimaced, tossing the book down onto his bed and drawing his knees in to his chest, trying desperately to cover his ears.
Every fucking night. Why can’t he just shut the fuck up.
He hadn’t eaten dinner yet, and he was sure at this rate it was going to be forgotten about again. If he went out there to check, he’d just get yelled at.
Perhaps it was because he was so hungry, but a scent caught his nose—faint at first, then stronger, until it almost assaulted his senses completely. His head snapped up—he recognized the scent. He’d only ever smelled traces of it on his father, but he knew what it meant.
Human?
But this wasn’t a mere trace of a human’s scent—this was an actual human, close by. His head swiveled around until his eyes landed on where his nose led.
There, on the floor across from where he sat on his bed, was a human. An honest-to-goodness human, staring at him with wide eyes and frozen in place.
There were a multitude of things that ran through his head in that moment, but the one that seemed to take precedence was I can’t let him catch me with drugs in here.
Without thinking, he swung his legs off the side of the bed and landed on the floor, mindful of his weight distribution to keep his footfalls silent. The human, upon seeing his sudden movement, gave a tiny yelp, its entire body tense and ready to dart away.
Christopher held up his hands reflexively as he crouched down, as if to calm a wild animal. I’m not going to hurt you.
Now that he could get a better look at it, he found himself studying the strange creature rather intently. He knew that humans looked sort of like miniature giants, like dolls, but he’d never anticipated the resemblance to be so…uncanny in real life. This one seemed to be male, with short brown hair and sharp features. He looked rather…unkempt, for lack of a better word. His clothes were tattered and worn, and he seemed to be covered in dirt and grime. His hair stuck out at messy angles—clearly, this human had had other things to worry about besides his appearance.
He didn’t look at all like the few humans he’d seen in movies. Those had always been made to look perfect—if they were real at all, and not fake replicas. This one looked like he’d just finished wrestling a rat out in the wild.
The human took a step backwards, but he didn’t run—Christopher could tell the human’s focus was split between him and the loud shouting going on a few rooms down. The sound made the human wince—it likely seemed much scarier to someone only a few inches tall.
Whatever the reason, Christopher was glad the human hadn’t dashed away yet. He kept his voice low and quiet, though he knew it was unlikely his parents could hear him with the volume of their own “discussion.”
“Hey. It’s okay.” Christopher slowly lowered his hands, though he didn’t move any closer. He spoke slowly and deliberately, though he didn’t think the human would be able to understand his words. “I’m a friend.”
The human’s eyes remained wide-open and full of fear. He almost looked nauseous as he looked Christopher up and down, his posture only relaxing slightly.
Finally, though, the human spoke up timidly. “Y-y-you’re fucking huge, man.”
Christopher’s eyes widened a bit, his head tilted in curiosity. “I didn’t realize humans spoke English.”
The human seemed just as confused as Christopher was, though his eyes kept darting back and forth towards the sound of his father’s yelling.
“Don’t worry about him,” Christopher muttered, a bit of resentment coloring his tone. “It’s just my dad. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just…what are you doing here?”
“I…uh…” The human seemed to shrink further into himself. “I snuck in,” he squeaked. “I nearly got killed trying to make it out there,” he said, gesturing towards the window, “and um…figured I’d take my chances with the house. I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
Christopher hurriedly made a shushing sound as the human’s voice increased in pitch. “Keep it down,” he hissed, though he tried to keep his voice gentle so as to not scare the human more than he already seemed to be. “I don’t want my dad to hear you.”
“Right, right…” The human seemed to take a few deep breaths, calming himself, before he stood up a little straighter. He tried to speak confidently, though there was still a healthy amount of wariness about him. “I’m Joey. What’s your name?”
Christopher wasn’t sure why he was surprised that the human had a name—he’d just never thought about it that way before. He found himself blinking a few times before answering. “I’m Christopher.”
“You’re…what, a teenager, right? You look pretty young.”
“I’m fifteen.”
“Uh-huh.” Joey jumped at the sound of what seemed to be breaking glass coming from the kitchen. “Listen, Christopher, I don’t want to be any trouble, but…do you know somewhere I can stay that’s…safe?”
“Uh…no, I don’t.” Christopher had only heard vaguely of human enthusiasts in the city that supposedly made secret places for humans to live. But there definitely wasn’t anything like that in Red Tree. “Sorry.”
“Okay…” Joey said, a little cautiously. “Look, could I just…stay here for a bit? It’s raining outside. I nearly drowned earlier.”
Christopher had barely noticed the sound of the rain picking up outside—he’d been far more distracted by the sound of the storm inside the house.
That’s right. He couldn’t possibly survive outside in this weather.
He swallowed nervously, keeping an ear out for the sound of his father getting closer. “I…listen, I can’t let my dad catch me with a human—”
“You can hide me, right? Listen, anything is preferable to dying out there. You can stuff me in a drawer for all I care. Just don’t send me back outside. Please.”
Christopher shook his head. “Your smell. Your scent is…really strong.” It was making his own stomach twist in knots to inhale it—he couldn’t put words to the sharp scent. It wasn’t like anything else in the world. It was totally distinct, almost alien—but not unpleasant. Not at all unpleasant, actually.
He found his mouth watering slightly, and his empty stomach growled.
No. That’s disgusting. You’re not like him. You’re not going to EAT this human.
Despite his mental protests, he found that he was curious. It was a common enough thing—everyone ate humans in secret. Even some of his classmates had done it—or at least, talked like they’d done so. Smelling this human now, he could see the appeal—the scent twisted around his lungs and teased the back of his tongue, all but begging him to get a taste of this human. Of Joey.
He’s got a name. He’s a person—you can’t just eat him. Even if it’s safe.
“Yeah, okay, kid, I haven’t exactly had time for a bath—”
“That’s not what I meant,” Christopher said, grimacing slightly from another painful, hungry twist of his stomach. “I mean giants can smell humans really well. My dad would find you.”
“...ah.” Joey’s face looked a little paler all of a sudden. “Does your dad, uh, have something against humans?”
Does he not know…?
Christopher felt a bit awkward all of a sudden, not entirely sure how to go about explaining to Joey that humans were drugs to most giants. He didn’t want to scare the poor human more.
Could he keep Joey in his room? He might be able to get away with it. His father’s senses weren’t all that sharp, not as much as his own were. Maybe he could find a way to mask the scent somehow. He wondered if it would be suspicious for his room to suddenly start smelling like lavender.
“He—”
A sound interrupted Christopher’s sentence, and he felt his heart drop into his stomach. His father’s heavy, thudding footsteps were making their way back down the hallway—towards his room again.
“Shit,” Christopher hissed. Panic gripped his mind, and in that panic, his hand shot forward and grabbed Joey—eliciting a tiny yelp of surprise from the human.
“Hey! Wh—”
Christopher desperately put a finger to his lips to silence Joey, his heart beating furiously against his ribcage. His father wouldn’t take it well to find a human in his room on a good day—and this definitely wasn’t one of his good days.
The footsteps got closer and closer. Christopher knew the door would be thrown open soon—he doubted he’d get as lucky as he’d gotten before. And surely, any closer and his father would be able to smell Joey…
He stared down at the human, his own wide eyes reflected in the human’s terrified face. He gave a nervous swallow, realizing what he might have to do.
It would hide his scent—
“Sorry,” he whispered quickly, hoping to convey a sense of apology before he shoved Joey into his mouth and closed his lips behind the human’s feet.
He’d expected it to feel much stranger, but something like a shock of adrenaline burst through his chest when he got that first taste on his tongue. He didn’t have time to revel in the feeling, though—he took a deep breath and, whether through sheer luck or panic, managed to swallow Joey entirely on the first try.
He thought he could hear the human’s shouting at first, but the sound disappeared as Joey slid further down his throat, past his collarbone, and into his stomach.
The clawing, incessant sensation of hunger melted away as the human filled the space.
His mind was a blur as he stood up quickly and whipped around, just as his bedroom door flew open and his father glared back at him.
“What’the fuck’re you doin’ in here,” his father slurred angrily. Christopher could smell the alcohol on his breath from where he stood in the middle of the room—it made him nauseous.
“I was getting to my homework,” he muttered quietly, averting his eyes from his father’s and instead staring just past him.
The human was moving frantically inside of him, kicking and punching at his insides—luckily not enough to hurt him, but it was still rather distracting. He did his best to keep his face even, and not betray the guilt and panic rising up within him.
I’m sorry, Joey. I should have told you it was safe.
His father narrowed his eyes. “Quit FUCKIN’ mumbling and look at me when you talk.”
Christopher swallowed the swell of anger that rose in his chest, Joey temporarily forgotten. He forced his eyes to meet his father’s, only just barely keeping the mess of emotions contained inside of him as he forced his lips into a thin line.
It’s not worth it to cause a fight right now. Just do what he says and get it over with.
“I’m going to work on my homework,” Christopher lied, making sure to enunciate each word clearly.
His father’s glance swept around the room—his eyes passing over the otherwise spotless interior and landing on the clothes Christopher had forgotten to pick up earlier today, after getting home from school and changing. He was worried his father had picked up on the last traces of Joey’s scent—Christopher could still just barely smell it himself—but luckily, he didn’t seem to notice. “Your room’s a fucking mess.”
Give me a fucking break. It’s ONE change of clothes.
Christopher could feel his own blood pressure rising, and he dug his nails into his palm. “I’ll pick it up.”
“You fuckin’ better. Whole damn house is a shitshow.”
His bedroom door slammed closed, and Christopher was once again left alone.
He’d gotten off relatively easy today.
The pressure in his chest eased up slightly as he took a few deep breaths, calming the anger and the panic that had overtaken him.
And then his focus drifted downwards.
He placed a hand over his stomach. Joey’s movements had slowed slightly, but the rapid beating of his own heart hadn’t.
There’s a PERSON inside of me.
It was such a weird sensation, to be able to feel so much movement in his stomach—he’d never noticed how sensitive his stomach was before. Was it just how it was with humans? He pressed at his own skin curiously, lifting his shirt up. There was no indication that there was anything out of the ordinary—Joey was far too small to make any sort of impression.
There was a sort of relief that began to flood his mind—a pleasant, almost hazy feeling that touched the corners of his thoughts, almost like he was floating on a cloud. And more than that—his empty stomach had calmed down, and he felt…almost full, as if he’d eaten an entire meal instead of a relatively tiny human. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten enough to feel this satiated.
But he’s fine. He’s fine. I’m not digesting him. He’s safe. It’s just a temporary thing.
The nagging voice, however, didn’t leave—what if he’d hurt Joey somehow? What if he couldn’t get him back out? What if he fucked up and—
His breaths began to come in short bursts again, panic rising in his chest. His eyes darted from the door to the window behind his bed.
He had to get out of the house.
“Hang on, Joey,” he muttered, placing a hand against his stomach—though he doubted Joey could hear him. He climbed up onto his bed and thrust the window open. It slid upwards with little resistance, thanks to Christopher’s careful maintenance of its hinges to keep it soundless. This wasn’t the first time he’d snuck out of the house, and it wouldn’t be the last.
The rain was still coming down, though it had lightened up slightly. He didn’t care—he could deal with a little rain. Slowly, he lowered himself down onto the ground and closed the window behind him before sprinting off into the woods behind the house, taking the path he knew like the back of his hand.
The rain drenched him, sinking into his clothes and dripping down his hair. He ran and ran, desperate to get to his place in the woods, to the only place he felt like he could actually breathe again. The wind whipped at his back, as if it was helping to carry him further and further away towards his sanctuary.
His house disappeared as he got further past the trees until he was surrounded by nothing but green and the smell of wet pine needles. The soft, rain-battered dirt beneath his feet caked on the soles of his tennis shoes, and he knew he’d have to be careful bringing them back inside later.
Finally, the clearing came into view—his place, his little fortress out in the middle of nowhere. The trees covered the whole place like a vibrant canopy, keeping some of the rain at bay. He headed towards the trunk of the largest tree, his favorite, and leaned against it, closing his eyes as he caught his breath again.
He slid down the trunk until he sat down against the earth, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that he’d need to do laundry when he got home to clean all the mud off of his clothes but being far too overwhelmed to care.
How do I get him out?
He took a few slow, deep breaths. Panic probably wasn’t going to help. He tried to focus on that nice, pleasant feeling that teased the edge of his mind, doing its best to break past all the fear and anxiety that tried to tear into him.
Breathe, damnit.
His chest rose and fell slowly, and the weight in his middle rose and fell with it.
“Joey?” he said, his voice cracking slightly. He didn’t know if the human could hear him, and he didn’t feel any sort of kick or punch in response. “I’m sorry. You’re fine, you’re not gonna get hurt. I’m…I’m gonna get you out.”
Silence. He may as well have been talking to the trees.
I can do this.
He had no idea what the first step even was. No one who ate humans talked about what it was like to bring them back out, but surely…surely it just sort of happened, right?
He tried to imagine the human moving back up his throat, contracting his stomach slightly as if he was trying to tighten his core muscles. Nothing happened—he could still feel Joey’s weight securely inside of him.
Fuck.
Did he have to make himself throw up or something? It wasn’t the most elegant solution, but what else could he do?
He carefully reached into his mouth, towards the back of his throat, and tried to make himself gag. He choked and spluttered, almost doubling over on himself, but nothing came back up his throat. It felt like his stomach held onto Joey with a greedy vengeance, unwilling to let him go.
FUCK.
He began to panic again, his mind speeding up to a crescendo of anxiety that thundered in his brain. The rain fell down his face and made him shiver, getting in his eyes and making his hair hang in wet, messy strands about his face.
The human moved around inside of him again, almost agitated now—as if Christopher’s failures were freaking him out too.
“I’m sorry Joey, I’m sorry…I’m trying. I’m trying. I’ve never done this before.”
He pressed his nails into his palms, hard, and winced at the sharp pain. He had to figure this out. He couldn’t stay out here all night. He couldn’t just leave Joey inside of him like this.
“I just…I couldn’t…couldn’t let him find you. He would’ve…” He would’ve eaten you. Just like I did. FUCK.
He could feel the corners of his eyes getting warmer, but the rain and the tears mixed together as they ran down his face. He only ever let himself cry out here, when he was alone—and he wasn’t alone right now, but it felt like it. All he could hear was the wind whistling through the trees and the rain that refused to let up. He couldn’t even see where the human rested beneath his skin—the only indication Joey was even there was the soft, small weight in his center that had stopped moving altogether.
He tried to make himself gag again, but once again, his efforts proved fruitless. He clutched his knees to his chest, out of breath, choking on air.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he wheezed, his fingers clenching and unclenching around his legs.
I can’t. I can’t do anything. All I do is fuck things up.
His eyelids blearily fluttered open, his eyelashes dripping with rainwater and salt, and he squeezed them shut again.
He put a hand to his stomach again, in a likely futile attempt to reassure Joey. He pressed into it slightly, feeling the human’s form beneath his touch. It was still so surreal to think about. He might have enjoyed the feeling if he wasn’t terrified and overwhelmed.
Suddenly, though, he felt a strange sensation in the back of his throat as he pressed into his stomach. Curious, he slowly pushed even further, trying to press under where he felt Joey with his fingers, and his eyes shot open as he felt the human move upwards and into his throat.
Yes. YES.
It wasn’t anything like throwing up—the human slid up his throat just as easily as he’d slid down it. It was like his body was made for this. Despite all his struggles, this felt natural and easy. He did his best to keep his breathing steady, focusing only on the motion of his throat, placing a hand underneath the bulge that formed in his throat and helping it up towards his mouth.
He felt the human reach the back of his mouth as the flavor burst onto his tongue again—almost overwhelming in its potency, enough to make the breath catch in his throat.
He kept his mouth closed until the human emerged fully into it, and he felt tiny hands grasp desperately at his teeth as Joey pulled himself forward.
“L-let me out. Please,” Joey whimpered—he could hear the human’s voice clearly now.
For a moment—just a moment—Christopher considered swallowing Joey back down. He could feel the hunger rising back up in him, squeezing his stomach with sharp, clawed fingers. It begged him to keep the human inside of him a little longer, to feel that satisfying weight within him again.
No. NO. I’m not like HIM.
Christopher used his tongue to keep Joey pressed gently against the roof of his mouth as he tried to swallow all the excess saliva around him. Then, he parted his lips and reached in with a few fingers, pulling Joey out by his hands before letting the human fall soggily into his palms.
Joey looked much worse than he had earlier—covered in saliva, shivering and huddling in Christopher’s hands, and staring up at Christopher with wide, understandably terrified eyes.
They only stared at each other for a while, both unsure of what to say. Christopher tried to shelter Joey from the rain slightly by covering him with his other hand, but it only did so much.
“H-how the hell am I alive?” Joey squeaked, his lip trembling as he curled in on himself—as if he was trying to back away from Christopher as much as he could, despite the fact that he was sitting in Christopher’s hand, very far from the ground.
“Giants…eat humans,” Christopher mumbled, somewhat apologetic, “but not for food. Giant stomachs are safe for humans to be in. We can control our digestive systems.”
Joey blinked in disbelief. “What…what the hell?” His mouth fell open. “Why…if not for food, then—”
“Drugs,” Christopher muttered bitterly. “It’s…” his lips tightened, “kind of…a nice feeling. And, um…I guess humans taste good to giants.” His face scrunched up in apology. “But I didn’t—I didn’t eat you because of…that.” He sighed. “I didn’t want my dad to smell you. He would have…”
Christopher nodded, unsure of what to do now. He couldn’t leave Joey out here in the rain, in the wild…how did humans even survive out in the wild like that?
He should take him home with him. He could probably hide the scent well enough…he only had to worry about his dad bursting in occasionally, but neither of his parents lingered around his room for long. He might be able to hide Joey…at least for a bit.
“Hey, uh…you good, kid?”
Christopher’s focus got pulled to Joey again, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? I’m…I’m fine.”
“Uh…” Joey’s face took on something a little softer. Concern. “You just…didn’t sound too good. From uh. From in there.”
Christopher shook his head quickly, reflexively. “I’m fine, really.”
Joey nodded slowly, clearly disbelieving. He looked up at Christopher, and hesitantly placed a hand against Christopher’s palm. “You know…the way your dad treats you…it’s not right.” He moved his hand back and forth in a tiny, soothing motion. “You seem like a good kid.”
He felt his chest hitch. “T-thanks, um, Joey.” He grimaced as he stood up slowly, making sure to keep Joey well-protected in his palms to prevent the human from falling off. “I can…I can probably keep you in my room for a bit. I don’t think my parents will check for a while. And I might find something to keep your scent covered.”
Joey nodded tersely, a new wave of fear settling into his face as he glanced down at how far the ground was below him. “I…I appreciate it, kid.”
They walked in silence for a bit, Christopher holding the human close to his chest both to shield him from the rain and keep him from falling.
“Um…and, hey, kid…” Joey muttered, a twinge of nervousness in his voice. “If you gotta…if you gotta do that again, because of your dad or whatever…it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He looked up at Christopher, forcing half a smile through his features. “I trust you, alright?”
“...y-yeah. Okay.” Christopher tried not to think about the way Joey’s suggestion made his stomach growl hungrily.
That hunger persisted all the way back to the house—and only got worse the more the human’s scent filled his lungs.
Notes: This one is even less cohesive than the last. I've had this vague idea for a long time, but I actually somewhat envisioned what the pred would look like and how the main action would go down while listening to a song. Points to you if you can guess what it is.
Pred is a creature who lives in the forest. They don't subsist off of actual food, but instead, on the feelings creatures have while dreaming. Fear caused by nightmares is the most "filling" and "nutritious", unfortunately for pred, who actually doesn't like to scare anyone. They eat these feelings by being in physical contact with the creature who's dreaming. Pred can either feed on the dreams a creature is having already, or intentionally induce dreams or nightmares themselves. Inducing nightmares is the part they hate the most, although their hunger sometimes proves it necessary.
Many years ago, pred chose to become a Healer (a process I can explain later if anyone wants). On one hand, it simplified the process of being in constant physical contact with a creature as it dreams through the night. On the other, they also use their ability to help people who are lost or hurt, which makes them feel better about having to eat nightmares from time to time.
In this particular story, pred encounters a very scared young man lost in the woods. They try to explain that they want to help him get home in exchange for some of his dreams. He doesn't believe them, and a chase ensues. Though pred knows giving chase will scare the man further, they really don't want him to get any more lost than he already is.
The man believes pred is going to kill him. He gets quite dinged up in the chase and eventually trips and falls so hard that he can't get back up right away.
Though pred really doesn't want to eat the man without his permission, they see that he's badly hurt and that he clearly wants to keep running. They feel they have no choice but to take him in. They take his phone out of his pocket first so they can get his information, and then grab the man himself.
With a feeble fight on the man's part, pred gets him down. As soon as he reaches their stomach, their immune system kicks in and puts him to sleep. Pred feels guilty for distressing him so badly, but relieved that he's safe and will be healed of his injuries through the night.
Using the info from the man's phone, pred walks all through the night to find where the man lives. Once they're certain he's fully healed, they teleport him out and leave him in his own bed. Pred hopes that when he wakes up, he'll believe the whole experience was a vivid nightmare.
So I'm ordinarily awful at actually stating which AU I'm using except if you pick it up by context clues. Whoops. But I guess that also works because you can slot in a skele of your choice. I had UT Sans in mind for this one, probably a little bigger than the reader here just to accommodate what ends up happening. I also wanted to do one where it wasn't the first times noms had happened. That was the whole thought process. With that, I'll shut up so you can actually read lol
-----
You were both on the couch watching TV. It was nice, just to be able to chill out like this. You were crammed into the corner of the couch made by the armrest and backrest meeting, and the skeleton across from you mirrored the positioning in the opposite corner. This left your legs to become a haphazard yet somehow comfortable tangle on the middle cushions between you, with a blanket laid over for added warmth.
You were so chilled out at the moment that your eyes started to droop. You fought sleep back and shifted your legs, which drew Sans' attention from the screen to you.
"you nodding off on me there?" he asked, amused.
"A little." You paused to stifle a yawn. "Dunno why."
"then nap, obviously. i don't mind."
"Of course you wouldn't, O Nap Master." You chuckle, and have to stifle another yawn with less success this time. Dangit.
"join the borg." He was clearly having fun teasing you, much to your sleepy annoyance.
"Resistance is futile, blah blah. Yeah. Fine, I'll nap." You moved to get up to follow through, but Sans verbally stopped you.
"where ya goin’?"
"To nap. Duh. Don't wanna hamper what you're doing, and also don't wanna ruin my back by sleeping in a half sitting up position."
He quirked a brow at you "like i'd pass up a chance to nap?" He seemed to get an idea, and asked "hey, why don't we nap together?"
You felt your face heat up, much to your chagrin. "What?"
Sans pulled the blanket off both of you and sat up straighter so that you could see it as he pat his belly while reiterating "nap together, y'know?"
You felt the heat in your face intensify and leak to your ears and neck. You couldn't manage words for a moment.
Sans chuckled and poked your leg as he cajoled "i know you sleep pretty good with me."
"'Pretty well', you mean." You couldn't help but correct.
His wry smile told that he intentionally misspoke, likely since knew that stuff bugged you.
You took your turn to chuckle. "Fine, you win. Nap buddies it is."
He lit up and seemed eager as he pulled his legs under himself and sized you up. You waited for him make the first move.
However, he surprised you by going for your feet. He grabbed both of your ankles lightly and guided them into his mouth. This felt oddly backwards, but you let it happen regardless.
You both heard and felt the first gulp, and now your shins brushed his upper teeth. Another, and you felt the back of your knees on his tongue. He’d bent over to accommodate the fact that your torso still reclined on the couch, and now you were pulled away from your armrest and flat on your back along the couch as the lower half of your thighs were sucked into his throat. This sudden motion drew a surprised squeak out of you (dammit.) which caused Sans to immediately stop and snap his eyelights to your face in concern.
Your heart was fluttering as usual, fight or flight kicking in despite knowing this was safe. You told yourself it was just the direction throwing you off. Given this, you gave him an encouraging nod and he relaxed.
Consent reaffirmed, he gave another gulp - notably stronger - as he worked around your hips. This left you half in, half out. Your knees down had already squished into his stomach proper by now, which is why they instinctively bent up when Sans moved. He had his hands on your back for support and sat up again which left your torso vertical over his upturned face. Gravity alone slid you a few inches deeper.
You noticed your bent legs meant your feet had pressed into the front of his stomach, actually creating a noticeable lump. You’d never seen yourself pressing out from inside, obviously, so you couldn’t quite help but watch as moving your feet a little made the lump move as well.
You smiled when Sans removed a hand from your back to smooth it over the bump. To you it seemed he was acknowledging what you were doing but also not trying to stop you. You watched a moment more as that lump filled out when he swallowed around you again and more of you entered his stomach.
One more swallow drew you in deep enough that your observing angle was lost. Your arms were left bent up to shoulder level since your torso was fully inside Sans but your arms were outside. You didn’t get time to be too awkward since the next pull dragged your head in, leaving just forearms and hands sticking up.
Sans entwined his fingers in yours, and gave your hand a quick squeeze before the final gulp pulled you fully inside to curl up cozily.
Once down, you let him adjust to sprawl over the couch first and then wriggled yourself into optimal position. After you got comfy you nuzzled your head into the wall both for affection and to signal you didn’t plan on squirming further. He sighed deeply, and you turned slightly into the rubs he was giving your back.
“Got experimental on me, huh?” You said after a moment.
“you did a little there, too.” he responded, still trying to catch his breath a little. (To be fair, swallowing a whole person had to take effort. But why do skeletons breathe?)
“Turnabout is fair play?”
“eh, i’ll grant you that.”
“So, thoughts?”
You felt the slight tug as he presumably shrugged. “other way is easier. but this was kinda fun.”
“And I’ll grant you that.”
“and your experiment?”
“Eh, more morbid curiosity than experiment.” A concerning thought popped in your head. “That didn’t hurt, did it? Stretching like that?”
“i have to stretch way more to get all of ya in there. all good. kinda felt good, actually.”
“Really? Ok, now I’m running an experiment.”
You stretched your arms out in front of you slowly until they pressed into the wall and you felt the opposing resistance was adequate. Then you let up, repositioned, and repeated.
You laughed victoriously when Sans started to purr. Your amusement caused the blue glow in the chamber to ramp up, which you knew equalled a blush.
“You little deviant!” You crowed, still giggly.
“yeah, and you’re not?” he laughed back even as the glow increased again.
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive!” You did let up though, and the glow dimmed back to its normal muted level.
After a moment of comfortable silence, he yawned and you responded in kind. Ah. Right. You were supposed to sleep.
“welp, ‘night nap buddy.” he said.
You scoffed. “Pfft, it’s the middle of the day. But sure.”
You both drifted off shortly thereafter, and the only sounds were light snores and he forgotten TV.
