Length: 1000 words
Vore type: Oral vore, F/M, unwilling prey, hammerspace vore
Fandom: None (Kahudra)
Other info: dragon/human, implied digestion
Summary: If you jump in the hole, the dragon will eat you. It doesn't matter that she's small.
"Hey, kitty-cat. I know your kind doesn't like getting wet, but d'ya know if this place is any good for surfing?"
Dzamie looked up from his crossword puzzle. He wasn't sure what about a cheetah sitting next to a pit in the sand, quietly working on puzzles, made him a magnet for stuff like this - he was even in a swimsuit, himself! But he might as well get some entertainment from it, or at least give the surfer a chance to not be a jerk.
"This stretch? Good for swimming and floating, but for surfing, it's better past that pier over there," he said, pointing his pencil at the fishing pier a moderate walk away. "Oh, and watch out for the hole."
"Good kitty," the man condescended - Dzamie's ears flicked in annoyance - then looked over at the hole, only a couple feet deep and twice as wide. "And hey, just cuz I'm a whiz on water doesn't mean I can't handle the sand."
"It's less the hole itself, and more the dragon laying in it." He sat forward in his chair to look over the edge of the pit, and waved at Sylvia, ten pounds of golden dragoness curled up half-asleep at the bottom. She cracked open an eye and waved back.
Rather than simply leaving, the surfer crossed his arms with a smile. "Oh, sure, he looks real tough. If I twist my ankle falling in there, he could give me a pretty serious light scrape!"
"Dragoness, actually. And she eats people who go in the hole," Dzamie informed him, "so don't fall in unless you want to get eaten."
The man looked at him, then at Sylvia. "You're joking, right? She's tiny. The zoo has bigger geckos."
Dzamie shrugged and refocused on his crossword. "Every single person who's gone in there has gotten eaten."
"Yeah? And how many is that?"
"Haven't been keeping count. You could ask her."
The surfer scoffed. "Please, anything more than zero is clearly just an empty brag."
"Eight today," Sylvia chipped in. Despite her small voice, both guys heard her clearly.
"Eight it is," agreed Dzamie, "so yeah, watch your step or it'll be nine."
"ME watch my step?" the man laughed, "just look at her. She's the one who'll have to look out. In fact… look out!"
Dzamie set his puzzle on his lap again and watched, with idle amusement, the surfer taking a few steps back. With a confident smirk, the man ran and leapt up, over the edge of the hole. It was clear that he had no intention of clearing it, but rather aimed his landing directly at the little dragon laying at the bottom. Sylvia tracked him, too, keeping her head lined up with his sandy feet; moments before impact, she opened her tiny jaws.
The hapless braggart landed nearly a foot deeper than he intended: rather than landing on Sylvia's muzzle, he landed in it, his calves somehow fitting into her hungry mouth and sliding in until hitting some resistance. Unbalanced, he fell back; magic leapt to Dzamie's paws, and a faint, green bubble insulated his shouted curse from any onlookers. Still, the cheetah couldn't help but wince, as sand was never as soft to land on as it appeared. Of course, that would soon be the least of his troubles.
With a gulp loud enough that even Dzamie heard it outside the sandy hole, Sylvia dragged her catch in, knees vanishing without a trace into her slender, golden neck. The surfer-turned food soon recovered from his fall, but by the time he'd made sense of where he was, or rather, where the rest of his legs were, she was halfway up his thighs, soaking his swimwear with drool rather than water. He reached down to pry her jaws open and pull himself out, but that only got them stuck by his sides - another swallow, and his head dipped under the rim of the hole, and no amount of thrashing his torso back and forth earned him a single inch of freedom back.
Dzamie got up, set his puzzle down, stretched, and laid on his belly next to the hole, for a better view. Only the surfer's head and bare shoulders were visible outside of Sylvia's hungry little jaws, and from the look on his face, his earlier machismo had given way to mortal terror. Sylvia's throat pulled at him, and he tipped his head back as her snout crept up his neck. Dzamie smiled back at him. "Y'know," he said, "I've never tried surfing in her stomach. Maybe it's a good thing you didn't simply ignore the obvious hole in the ground."
Last words were wasted on wishing ill of the furry onlooker, and then Sylvia's jaws clacked together. A final swallow, then the dragoness opened back up to show off her maw, empty of prey; aside from the copious drool, there was little if any sign of the whole person who fell eight feet and counting into a two-foot-deep hole. After giving him the view, Sylvia grinned at her friend. "So, wanna help me hit double digits?"
Dzamie looked at the shadow of his chair. "It is getting sorta late…" He leapt to his feet and jerked his head towards the water. "Tell you what, I'm gonna go cool off a bit, and then you'll be my ride back to the house, okay?" With a snap of his fingers, the chair and crossword vanished.
"Alright! But if you don't hurry, who knows if some other poor fool will steal lucky number ten from you?" Dragon and cheetah exchanged smiles, and then he ran off to the water's edge while she reconstructed a sandy nest. Relaxation, entertainment, free meals… this was definitely an outing worth repeating.
In the little description for Grace, you wrote that its safe to be inside her (unless she has good reason not to keep you safe)
How do you imagine it feels to be safely inside her? Ive thought about slimes a bunch and i arrived at the idea that even tho they are liquid, i prefer if you can breathe inside there somehow; perhaps through some magical kind of osmosis? On a similar note, i also find it fun if the slime gets somewhat into the prey's mouth, so they also get a taste of whoever is tasting them...
Also also, i like to imagine slimes having the ability to change their chemical makeup somewhat, so that sometimes they can touch things harmlessly and other times digest/absorb them; is that the case with Grace as well?
(Sorry if the ask is too long..)
It's basically like floating in a viscous liquid, probably 80-something F in temperature. Breathing starts difficult, but her slime adapts to your lung strength and soon is not much worse than a particularly humid day. You technically don't need to actually breathe; she's perfectly capable of directing air to your body, but basically everyone's body freaks the fuck out if she doesn't let the lungs inflate and collapse normally.
For a similar reason, when she lets people out, their face is usually the last to leave, so she can carefully reintroduce air. Grace usually hides this as either a kiss, sitting on their face, or reaching an arm in - it's all functionally the same (if she wants, you could even just find yourself stuck to a "feather" on her wing until she's detached), so it tends to depend on her mood.
As for the chemical makeup thing, Kahudra is a little more directly magical: her chemical makeup remains the same, and it's how she's conducting her innate magic that determines if what's inside her is going to get turned into slime or just float there for a bit. She finds that even unreasonably violent adventurers can usually be persuaded to talk things out if they watch their recently-yanked-away sword visibly corrode and vanish in a matter of seconds. Sometimes she doesn't even have to bodily restrain them!
What kind of time is the setting of Kahundra in? Is it modern day with fantasy elements, or an alternate world similar to ours, or perhaps somewhat in the future? If it is in the future, im glad the legacy of youtube poops is still standing strong
It's a sort of ambiguous mix of modern and fantasy, leaning one way or another depending on your location - Azurel and his kobolds are pretty deep in a fantasy area, so most tech tends to conveniently stop working or go missing when people visit; Sel'riss lives in a relatively higher-tech area, and despite being a naga, his day job is streaming. The "main four" (Dzamie, HM, Dream, Kenneth) are solidly in the middle, which is quite handy for Dzamie's love of functional cosplay.
It's relatively rare to have a really big territory that's pure magic or pure tech, so most places are at least familiar with travelers talking about things that simply don't apply to their lives, be it an adventuring party pretending not to overhear their protection-job clients talk about "having no GPS signal" or "the new season of an anime," or a city-dweller catching a glimpse of a stranger in unusual garb puzzling over a sketch of some geometric-decorated circle straight out of a D&D fanart.
Sinera and Dream are actually rather anomalies: Sinera grew up basically a modern suburbanite before a chance encounter landed her as the second katul in recent history to learn magic, and Dream comes from a place that even most fantasy residents are too mundane to access... and promptly fell in love with YTPs and firearms. She does stay away from cities when she can, but that's due to... let's say "allergies."
Length: 1400 words
Vore type: F/M, oral vore
Fandom: None (Kahudra)
Other info: unwilling prey, kobold/rabbit, feral prey, digestion
Summary: A garden during harvest season is a great place to find a meal! A rabbit knows this, and unfortunately, doesn't consider that may be more universal than he'd like.
On the outskirts of Dilmar City, a garden's plants grew heavy with vegetables. The garden was, of course, guarded by a fence. Easily ten feet high, a wooden frame bounded a shimmering, magical barrier, designed to completely but harmlessly repel any fox, deer, and possibly even a bear.
But not, William thought as his paws pushed through the layer of grass from below, a bunny. A little more digging, and the exit - now entrance - to his hole was wide enough to fit whatever he could drag back with him, as well as his soon-to-be-bulkier body. Extrication, however, could wait: he had a feast fit for a whole warren for him to peruse and enjoy. William shook off some dirt and began to hop through the rows of plants.
Cabbage, onions, some spinach, pumpkins… William slowed his pace at the line of carrot leaves poking out of the ground. Just before he could start digging, however, his ears perked up at a sound: the voice of a yellow and orange kobold using a magic staff like a walking stick, grumbling to herself.
"Stupid superstitious humans. 'Magic corrupts the crops' my scaly tail." She bent down, hefted a pumpkin thice William's size, and placed it on a nearby cart before biting down on the stem to sever it and spitting out the part stuck in her mouth. "Bleh. Tastes like food's food. I don't know what that elf sees in this job besides a worse paycheck than-"
William froze when one bright yellow eye focused on him. Slowly, smoothly, the lizard turned to face the bunny. He tensed, preparing to run straight back to his hole; fangs that pointy and sharp, and mention of "food's food" set his fur on end. But maybe she hadn't actually seen him, or maybe she'd-
The kobold took a deep breath, glanced left and right, then laid down on the cart, letting one arm and the lower half of her legs and tail hang down. "Ah, hell, every carrot you eat is one I don't have to pull up." She laughed, and adjusted her head to avoid laying on her horns. "But lucky you that this is some human's field and not my dragon's."
After waiting several seconds for her to move again, and her failing to do so (save for a lazy twitch of her tail), William took a cautious hop up to the carrot. Then sunk his claws into the dirt. Then did so again, digging faster as the kobold continued to do absolutely nothing about it. Before long, the carrot was out of the ground and, nibble by nibble, vanishing into him. Not even the leaves were spared.
Emboldened by this odd lack of action, the bunny moved to the next carrot. It came up faster, partly from his confidence, but also because it was truly scrawny. Still, food is food, and its size meant it simply disappeared faster. After wiping some dirt from his mouth with a paw, he saw a set of leaves he was certain belonged to a truly delicious specimen, a little closer to the cart. The kobold was completely still, and possibly asleep. So, William took one hop, then another, and started to dig.
Suddenly, a sharp pain jolted through his ears! A strong pressure held them together, then lifted him up by them, until he stared the kobold, now smiling, right in the eyes. William struggled, wiggled, and kicked at the air, but her grip around his ears was far too firm to drop free. A thoughtful look replaced her cold smile, and for a moment, the bunny dared to hope she'd changed her mind.
"Let's see…" she muttered, drawing her staff closer to William with her other hand, "probably don't need much mana into this one. I do want it to end quickly, after all."
The staff tapped William's head, and he heard a firm command: "Sleep." He shook his head, trying to both ignore and use the pain to fight it. Seconds passed, but he remained awake - though his normally strong legs felt like heavy weights dangling from him; he tried to kick again, but felt them barely twitch. To his horror, the kobold noticed this, and bared her fangs in a wicked grin. "Perfect," she purred.
Without getting up from her resting position, she simply lifted him over her head and opened her jaws wide; William could only stare down at the perilous, pink expanse, framed by deadly-sharp fangs and framing an even deadlier dark throat entrance. Her breath was warm and soft against his fur as she lowered him, and once again William had to fight to stay awake. One blink later, and her breath surrounded him, full of unfamiliar but instinctively dangerous scents, yet the gentle, warm pressure of her throat around his hind legs made a powerful argument in favor of giving in to slumber.
The pressure around his ears vanished as the new, lighter one crept up his midsection, threatening his forelegs as well. His ears, sore from the kobold's grip, folded back against his head and back, and then, with a loud clack, she snapped her jaws shut, surrounding him in darkness. An even louder GULP sent a shot of energy coursing through his body, and he kicked as hard as he could against the walls of her throat… which, in his sleepy state, wasn't very hard at all. Her gullet's embrace climbed to his neck, and then wrapped around his head.
The predatory lizard swallowed once more, and irresistible muscles shoved William deeper into her body; his hindpaws slid into a more open yet definitely more deadly chamber, followed soon by his hips, his belly, and the rest of him. His fur was matted down with drool and other juices. Completely cleaned of dirt, he had no doubt, but the thought that the kobold's stomach would soon clean him off of his bones…
Sheer terror, or perhaps her spell wearing off, threw some fight back into him. With newfound strength, he thumped his hindpaws down as hard as he could, as though trying to jump in his confined space. Though muffled by the flesh around him, he heard a surprised "woah!" from his captor, and then William's surrounding's rotated as the kobold sat up. This did little to dissuade the bunny, who simply kept kicking her stomach walls. She growled, and a new pressure from outside pushed against him, as though she could simply force him to be still and accept his fate. William, of course, did his best to not do that, and kept at his assault.
The kobold's stomach rumbled, and what little space he had to ready his kicks was taken from him in a large belch - at least, from the small bunny's perspective. William tried to kick more, but with her stomach pressing in on him even closer than before, he couldn't manage much power behind them. Not that the constant, cloying massage all around him wasn't trying to finish what her earlier sleep spell had nearly done. William could barely focus on much else besides staying awake and continuing to thrash - not even kicking - when the scaly predator jostled him around more hopping off the cart.
"Welp, that's enough of a rest. Boring human job or not, I have my pride as a diligent kobold," she said to herself, and to her unwilling eavesdropper. Between her steady crouching and lifting, the darkness around him, the increasingly stale air, and her stomach constantly kneading acids into his fur, it wasn't long before William succumbed, closing his eyes for the last time.
-
Rinta gave a grunt of effort as she hoisted the last pumpkin onto the cart. Her stomach grumbled around the gradually diminishing heap of rabbit meat and fur stewing inside. The kobold gave her belly an appreciative pat, and it responded by sending up another burp. She grinned to herself; the free live food did make up for the very un-adventurer-like manner of the job, she supposed. She crouched down and started on the line of carrots, quietly hoping that the tasty, squirmy bunny hadn't been the extent of ther farm's pest problem.
Y'know, I don't write my ocs very often. Time to change that. Local Mary-Sue bothers his rival specifically to show off how medium-aware he is. This cat causes problems on purpose.
#
Kenneth could barely keep himself from burying his head in his hands. "Alright," he said to the cheetah-colored mistake of reality he considered his rival, "casting aside your "Fictional Relativity" nonsense, why should I believe you that we're fictional, too? I feel pretty real, after all."
"Well, I figured you might enjoy being correct about something for a change," Dzamie replied. Kenneth glared at him, hoping that maybe, this time, the katul would simply suddenly die and stay dead. Instead, he just shrugged. "But I figure you're asking for proof, so how's this?"
Dzamie snapped his fingers, and a green, three-ring binder appeared in his hand. "This," he gestured at it, "is a list of the named and forgotten." When he set it on Kenneth's desk, it kicked up a small gust that nearly blew off a few papers. "I suppose I could magically automate its update, but, honestly, it's more fun to catch the narrative looking away and do it manually before it comes back."
Despite himself, Kenneth reached for the binder, flipping it open to the first page. It was filled with names and short descriptions, in handwriting neater than he had expected. Strangely, the first few entries were listed as being meerkats. Normal meerkats. "You've been hanging out with Eris too much; her chaos has infected your brain." He turned the page. "…hey, wait, I recognize some of these names."
"Your old katul-hunting gang, right? The ones you razed my home village with?" The clearly-insane cat spoke as though discussing tomorrow's weather.
"Yeah. Huh, I wonder what happened to them."
"No clue, hopefully died. No offense taken, by the way."
"Unfortunate, I wish you'd taken some and left. So, how does this prove your point?"
Dzamie summoned a chair, gave it a second thought, then instead turned himself into a massive, blue snake - presumably, Kenneth thought with more than a twinge of annoyance, to rest in a way that would bother him the most. "Read some names out," he requested.
Kenneth raised an eyebrow, but looked back at the paper and read aloud all the names of his old buddies.
The snake shook his head, slowly. "Try again. Choose one name, and read for me the entire entry. Starting with the name."
"I don't see what this is supposed to prove. I'll start with-" Kenneth stopped, strangely. He knew the guy, he'd spent months, maybe years with him slaughtering the furred pests before, admittedly, mellowing out.
"The guy's name is-" and again. It wasn't like he couldn't read; the letters were perfectly legible, to the point where he almost envied his rival's penmanship.
"What? I know we've not talked in awhile, but c'mon, I know-" Kenneth worked his jaw. Did his old friend get himself cursed?
"Alright, then, I'll skip him and move onto-"
"Er, how about-"
"Okay, last one! Really simple Joe-Schmo type name! Right there, on the page! His name is-"
Kenneth slammed the binder shut, and he threw the thing at the katul. "Alright, you do it, then! Whatever the hell is wrong with this thing, anyway?!"
The blue snake rubbed his snout where the binder had hit against his coils, then turned back into the bipedal cheetah that Kenneth knew and loathed. "Oh, I can't directly say their names, either," he admitted, picking up and de-summoning the binder. "I just like knowing things that the narrative doesn't. Bit of a reversal, for once."
"And this is proof?"
"It's strong evidence. Unless you think someone individually cursed every single person in there not to have a name you can directly acknowledge. Including the meerkats."
Kenneth finally gave into the urge and planted his face directly into his hands. "Y'know what? I do not care. Please tell me you came here for something other than philosophy? I just cleaned and I'd prefer not to get your blood over everything."
Dzamie waved a hand dismissively. "Like you could land a good hit. Oh, that's right! I initially stopped by to mention that HM finally made good on his idle threat to eat an entire orphanage."
"By Fyoor's fire, why do you even-"
"Anyway, good luck with whatever politics stuff arises from that! I'm gonna go be literally anywhere else!" With a snap of his fingers, Dzamie was gone just a split-second before dozens of magical blades zipped through the space he used to be. Kenneth reinforced the soundproofing spell around his office, gripped his head tightly, and screamed.
They're wingless, maned dragons with an entrancingly pleasant-smelling gas for a breath weapon. Vanille is the only one that the Guild keeps tabs on (and they don't really need to, but she's literally right there so it's harder not to keep an eye on her). They're considered more docile than most dragons, since encounters with both hunters and prey end up with them incapacitated and near-mindlessly seeking a stronger smell of the aroma dragon's breath (which lets the dragon flee or eat them per their whim). That said, they are still dragons, with claws and scales and fangs, so it's not like a gas mask will render them an easy foe. Plus, aroma dragons are immune to each other's breath's effects, and other dragons are resistant.
An aroma dragon's breath smells different to each person (Dzamie named Vanille due to how he thinks she smells like vanilla; William finds her breath is more like petrichor, and HM smells burning human flesh around her). It's theorized that different dragons also smell different from each other, but this hasn't been confirmed.
Vanille in particular uses her breath most often to subdue rooms that are getting too rowdy; she's very effective, since the only dragonslayer who's usually truly immune to her is her boyfriend... since he keeps himself on an antidote he developed.
"lizard is too racist to realize she’s being bullied " elaborate
Referencing "Describe your OC's story in the worst way" (feel free to send more of these in if curious)
Meet Rinta! Seen here in her preferred position in regards to... well, most people who aren't dragons or kobolds.
Rinta, like all other kobolds, is a dragon supremacist. Not as in "dragons ought to rule everything," but "a non-dragon is as capable of being overall better than a dragon as a granite slab is capable of safely catching an egg." As such, she generally considers Azurel the pinnacle of existence, shortly followed by every other dragon, and then a MASSIVE gap to find kobolds (including honorary kobolds) before a very small step down to just about everyone else.
While some kobolds, like Kassar, have a pretty solid grasp on "other people don't share your values, and it is often a waste of time to try to fix that," others, like Rinta, find it difficult to comprehend that some people don't like dragons or those associated with them. So, while she does consciously know that a group of fellow guild adventurers don't like kobolds, all the pranks they do "to really give her the dragon treatment (derogatory)" are interpreted by her as fantastically stupid people "trying their hardest to treat her like a little dragon (honorable):"
swapping her cooked beef cafeteria lunch for assorted raw meats and possibly a dead rat gets seen as helping her resist human influence on her diet in favor of normal kobold food
stealing off her clothes because it's not like dragons wear anything gets seen as an agreement with her own position; unfortunately there do seem to be laws around this so she does need those back, or at least someone's.
taking adventuring jobs she seemed interested in before she can gets seen as them helping her remember to delegate important tasks to her lessers
swinging a blade way too close because "whoops, Rinta, thought that was the world's smallest dragon" is just straight-up taken as a compliment on her appearance
Luckily for Rinta's life expectancy, the massive gap between dragons and everyone else overshadows the smaller "kobolds vs non-kobold non-dragons" gap to the point that it just manifests at feeling particularly proud whenever someone's at her or Kassar's mercy. And maybe a little bit of monologuing at her next snack or temporary dildo.
