Voretober 7 - Costume
A little illness can take me out for two days, but I persevere!
Length: 1800 words Vore type: Absorption, M/?, willing prey, prey POV Fandom: None Other info: slime griffon/human, endosoma, digestion mention Summary: Your griffon friend has a great idea on what to wear: him!
Today was not going well for you. Not only did you hit every single red going from and to your apartment, your costume for tonight's party apparently decided to go AWOL. You'd just finished checking even the kitchen when a familiar sloshing noise hits your ears.
"Hey, dude, something wrong?" Galleon pokes his head around the corner, the slime griffon's "ears" flicked forward with curiosity. "Figure it's either that or you're making the most intense cake of your life."
You let out a frustrated sigh and brace your arms against the counter. "Y'know that Halloween party tonight? My stupid fucking costume's gone. I don't wanna go in just a normal getup, not for Halloween."
Galleon flows around into the kitchen and leans against the fridge. "Flowing" being the operative word; it had been a little difficult to get used to when you told him he didn't need to act like his non-slime counterparts, but these days it felt more out-of-place seeing him bounce with each step as though he had bones. "Bummer. Have you checked-"
"Yes!" It'ss faster and angrier than you'd intended, but… you sigh. "Ugh, yes. Sorry, it's just that I've checked literally everywhere it could be. I mean, I'm looking in the KITCHEN, for crying out loud!"
He doesn't seem all that fazed by your outburst, instead calmly raising a claw. "You wanna wear me?"
"What?"
The griffon shoots you a beaky grin and offers a slimy hand as he glides towards you. "If you don't mind the lack of privacy for the night, we'll be a double costume: predatory slime and unfortunate victim!"
You roll your eyes. "If I didn't know you so well, that would be unnerving. Anyway, I want to go to the party myself, not be trapped as you puppet me around."
Before you know it, his arm is around your shoulders, with his wing right behind it. For all his talk of how accomplished a hunter he is, subtlety sure isn't one of his strong points. "I figured, which is why you'd have control for most of the night. It's a lot of fun being an irresistible force on every inch of you, buuuuut I could just cling to you."
With a snicker, you pat his claw (relieved to pull it away dry this time) - but don't push it away. "Aren't you clingy enough already?"
"No such thing. So, yes or no?"
He's definitely pulling something. Not that Galleon's ever been very opaque about his love of being full of someone other than himself, but this is pretty forward, even for him - and especially around others. He initially chalked it up to having a better predatory advantage, but it's far more likely he's just shy when he's not around his close friends or imminent victims.
"If you wanted a friend to accompany you at the party, you can just say so. But alright, I'll wear you. What do I need to do?"
"Yes!" He quickly hugs you from behind, but you remain outside his body this time. "I mean, that's not necessary, but I'm glad to help with your costume issue. Um, go and get into some clothes you don't mind me ruining."
"…alright. Why, though? You've eaten me with clothes on before." He follows you as you push open the door to your room. "Probably more often on than off, even, and it's never been an issue."
"Tattered, acid-eaten clothes make a better prey-victim costume, no? …you can say "no" if you want," he adds after a moment.
It doesn't take long to find a shirt and pants that have already seen better days. To be perfectly honest, at this point, "acid-eaten" could well be a compliment. You grab them and hold them out to the slime griffon, who simply cocks his head at them. Confused, yourself, you gently push them against his chest until they and your hand sink into his admittedly comfortable, warm body. He still just stares down at them, floating unharmed in his eagle-colored slime.
Once he realizes you expect him to do something about them, he smiles and pats your shoulder. "I'm about to fuck these clothes up. There's a decent chance being in my slime will be key to keeping them together. So, unless you want to find out what putting on a shirt and pants while inside me is like…" His smile falters, and he glances away. "To be honest, I don't think I want to try that, actually."
You roll your eyes, but can't help but smile at the mental image of his body stretching to keep you contained while you dress. The outfit comes out as dry as you put it in, and it's not long to put it on. You take a breath - one of the last few breaths of air you'll get for most of the night - longer if you end up falling asleep in him again.
Galleon offers his hand, you take it, and he takes yours - in his case, drawing your fingers into his slimy talons, and then the rest. He drags you closer with superhuman strength, and with a turn of his wrist, the warm sense of wetness spreads quickly up your forearm. Like a dancer, the playful predator spins you into his embrace, and your back immediately sticks in his front. His beak presses against the top and back of your head as he pretends, just for a second, that that's how he eats. Another pull, this time along every inch of you stuck inside him, and your vision gains a light tint, with a couple patches colored more like his eyes. Gently, more of a suggestion, Galleon turns his head and yours with it, to look at yourselves in the mirror; the talons on his other hand interlace with your fingers, the last bit still free. With a careful squeeze, they join the rest of you, entirely submerged in griffon.
In the mirror, you float a few inches off the ground, suspended entirely in Galleon's body. You hear his hum all around you; he drops his and your arms to his sides, then forces yours further, against your consumed body. His slime swirls, a changing current against your body, until your feet nearly touch the floor and your head rests just under where his collarbone would be. Experimentally, you try to move your arms, and successfully do so, as long as you wouldn't stretch his body out too much - unfortunately, after just a few seconds, the slime making up his torso grips your wrists tightly.
"I'm going to run myself along your skin, okay? So I avoid burning you with your clothes." His voice doesn't originate from his beak above you, but rather from everywhere. You nod, and see his face in the mirror start to concentrate.
It starts at your hands, feet, and neck, a gentle pressure around each of them that slowly spreads inwards. Up your legs, along your arms, down against your collar. And then, he's under your clothes - not that he hadn't been, considering how these clothes certainly aren't waterproof, but this time you can feel his intent to be there, that he's focusing on sliding against you. Your pulse quickens, and you can just feel a rising blush as the griffon climbs your thighs and explores your crotch to lift away every wrinkle of fabric, while at the same time running down and around your back, over every inch of concealed skin. He goes no further than he has to, but it's more than enough to make you feel very naked, despite being able to see yourself clothed in front of you. And then, he starts.
You've never caught Galleon digesting anyone - the closest you'd come was a curious stare at a turkey sandwich fizzling into slime, or when, on a dare, he ate a chicken leg through his lion leg (bone and all). Not that you'd tried very hard, of course, and the sight in front of you reminds you why. A hissing sound fills your ears as, in the mirror, holes appear and grow on the sleeves, legs, and belly of your shirt and pants, and no matter how hard you try to avoid it, it fills you with the thought of those same burns and holes appearing on a person's body, or even your own. It doesn't take long at all, and Galleon soon stops the fizzing entirely, turning the well-worn clothes into veritable tatters - though thankfully leaving your modesty intact, at least visibly so.
With his work done, Galleon raises his arms over his head and arches his back as though stretching, and his hold on your body doesn't pull away so much as dissipates, a reminder that he's still there, should he choose to pay attention there. "Doesn't look half-bad!" he congratulates himself, "a much more unique costume than a mad scientist, if I do say so myself!"
…wait.
You throw a punch at his chest from within - it won't hurt him, but it does earn his attention. "Yeah?"
"Treacherous little catbird, I never told you what I was dressing up as."
He freezes, the only movement being a slow current against your body. "…lucky guess?" Damn, even his beak stayed still.
Sighing always felt weird inside him, but times like this called for one. "Just ask, next time. And as long as it's safe…"
"Yeah, it's in the fridge."
"It's-!" The incredible duality of this slime, to be so clever and so stupid at once. "Alright, I got it more to hand out candy than for a party. Speaking of, what time is it?"
"About quarter to seven."
And that means time to go. You instinctively start walking towards the bedroom door as though Galleon wasn't surrounding you, but luckily, he moves with you, letting you lead. "Which of us is driving?"
"Both, I think." A slimy arm reaches out in front of you to pull open the front door. After stepping through, you hear a click, but see his keys in his other hand, and wisely decide to shelve that thought for later. "But you can. Lemme just get your arms back into mine once we sit down."
A few minutes later, the two of you cruise down the road, his head resting against the side of yours to let you see better. Galleon breaks the silence with a curious, "so… think we'll have the best costume there?"
You laugh. "If we aren't, I can't wait to see who does!"
