Title: Poor Hand
Plot summary: Our protagonist Pochesi is recovering from a bad breakup with a prospective boyfriend, Diaola. The two reminisce over lost high-school memories, only for Diaola to present Pochesi with a small game.
Note: Has vore in it, but safe vore specifically. (Meaning no death nor digestion.)
Word count: 1048.
Adjectives used: Unequal (size play), Alluring (gambling), Altered (cheating)
The breeze lovingly blows past me as I sit down, legs splayed across the picnic blanket. I look over at my date, unable to take my eyes off of his soft pink lips that compliment both his acorn-brown skin and smooth black hair. He takes my own hand and kisses it at the fingertips, sending tingles down my spine.
“You haven’t changed, have you?” he teases, scratching my bronze-toned neck.
“Nope!” I confirm, crawling towards his loving arms. “Sorry to trouble you, but-”
“No worries,” he assures, ruffling through my auburn curly hair. His fingers just linger a bit more around my chin, his other hand slowly caressing my back. “You’re still as lovely as the day we separated. I couldn’t bear to leave you alone on a day like this.”
“That’s, um, thanks.” I can only stammer at the compliment, knowing how much he viewed me. It wasn’t fair for him to just confess his feelings on the last day before he moved away from our high school, going across the country to some other school. To be fair, I had a boyfriend at the time – or at least, I did up until I caught him cheating on me with another man. Thus started an endless spree of men who I’d either find too boring, too race-fetishy, too controlling, or some issue.
“I always wondered,” he admitted, “What are you doing right now?”
“Nothing much,” I admit. “Just working as a game designer, you know how it is. Awful crunch times, the usual.”
“Oof,” he winces. “Seems worse than my magic gig, somehow.”
“Magic?” I ask, crawling atop him. “You can do magic?” I excitedly add.
“Uhh, yeah!” he answers, seeming a bit flattered by my sudden burst of energy. He reaches into his pocket before pulling out a deck of cards. “Wow, you didn’t need to immediately sour your face,” he adds.
“Because it’s the worst trick ever,” I state. “Seriously? I know you’re not this boring, so-”
“I’m not,” he replies calmly. “I just want a game. We’ll play one game of poker.
“Five-card draw?” I propose.
“Exactly. If I win, you get to be the participant of our little trick.”
“And if you lose?”
“Well, then you get to command me to do anything you want.”
“Like robbing a bank?”
“Within reason,” he sighs, dropping the tone for a second. He coughs before returning to his showman smile. Extending a hand, he asks “Well?”
“Deal,” I reply, shaking back.
“Good.” He deals me five cards, then himself. “And let’s use these as chips,” taking some coins from his pocket. “Each of us get only five.”
“Mhm,” I answer, looking over my hand.
Much to my surprise, it’s a full house – three 10s and two Kings. It’s the fourth-best hand possible, yet there’s always the chance that he has something like four Aces, or even four Twos.
“One chip,” he answers, moving a single dime to the center. It’s the minimum needed of course – otherwise, the game would be endless.
“All in,” I reply, confident in this hand.
“All in,” he returns with his own confidence. For a moment, I look back at my hand. Surely he knows I wouldn’t gamble everything unless I could, right? I had expected him to fold, but what if he really does have a better hand?
“I’ll exchange,” I start.
“Guess we are playing by house rules,” he states, putting his hand to his mouth. I take out the two Kings and swap them for the top two cards that are… oddly sticky? Not much, but it’s a bit. I flip them over and…
A 2 and a 7.
“Ah shit,” I sigh, showing my hand.
“Oh my,” he admits, showing his own hand; a simple straight starting with an Ace.
“If I hadn’t succumbed to my own greed,” I mumble.
“What if I told you I knew what cards you had?” he asserts with a playful grin.
I merely roll my eyes.
“Just look inside,” he adds, gesturing to his mouth as he opens wide. I lower my head and look up at the roof of it, narrowing my eyes. I keep looking, the mouth growing larger as I keep staring for anything out of place.
A flash of red crosses my eyes, getting me to notice an Ace of hearts right at the top of the roof of his mouth. “How in the world did you manage to fit it inside your mouth?”
“Want to see?” he asks, voice now a bit louder. I stumble back, only to be caught by a hand. Perhaps it’s better to phrase this better; my whole body is caught by a hand. I look down, noticing that the ground went from a soft blanket to his softer hand. While I’m only slightly larger than his hand, I’m still small enough for him to lift by the scruff of my jacket and hold above his head. “See?” he smirks. “I told you I can do magic.”
“Huh,” I admit, some mixture of amused and curious. “You know, this raises so many questions.”
“Then we’ll take our time,” he responds. “Though, just relax for this next part, will you?”
“Sure?” I answer hesitantly. Taking this as a ‘yes’, he opens his mouth wide. “Hang on-”
“Too late!” I’m dropped straight into his mouth, feeling him swallow me instantly. My jacket and pants get drenched in saliva as I travel all the way down his throat. I curl up against the warm stomach walls, the acid only feeling like a mild burn.
A hand is then placed on the stomach – two nervous ones going around. “Pochesi? Pochi?!”
“I’m fine,” I answer, looking up to notice a card falling down. “This certainly is one hell of a magic trick-”
“It wasn’t part of the plan!” he stammers. “I intended to catch you with my lips, not - urgh, whatever that was?”
“Are you… panicked?”
“YES?!”
“Then don’t be,” I answer. “Besides, you’ve got some magic,” I answer. “Also, I need to sleep.”
“Wha- don’t be ridiculous!”
“Do you have anti-acid spells?”
“Yes, but-”
“Good, I’m sleeping. I need some rest after yesterday,” I add, yawning to make my point clear.
“...Ok.”
“Also let’s do this again sometime,” I say as I drift off to sleep.
Title: Hunger for Battle
Plot Summary: Cicada is beaten up by an antihero after getting in his way. However, a certain villainness is not having this and shows off her true might.
Word Count: 1062
Adjectives Used: Unique (Amplification), Quirky (Stronger when closer), Overpowered (Long range)
I again queue up the TV; it was a bit expensive, but I managed to replace it. I mean, not like it matters since I’m still using rich people’s money, but it’s nice for a woman to have a budget.
“Where are you?” I ask aloud as my stomach growls. I can’t help but poke it, asking, “Aww, aren’t you hungry for Cicada too?” He’s about an hour late, so maybe he’s out doing boring hero stuff.
“This just in,” the crusty newscaster says, “We’re currently witnessing a brawl between two metas.”
“Ehh, at least this soap opera will be entertaining,” I monologue.
“Apparently, it’s hero Cicada vs. Lethashot.” Sorry, my Cicada?
I sit right up, now deadset on this.
“Yes, from what he here, he’s fighting for his life while significantly bleeding.” And these bastards aren’t doing anything to help him?!
Oh, forget this.
I storm out of my home, donning my yellow dress and mask quickly as I fly through the air. “You better not be dead,” I grunt as I keep flying, a tinge of something more lingering within my heart. It takes me mere moments to arrive, seeing Cicada left on the ground, profusely bleeding; yet, he’s still standing, equipped with his personal noisemakers.
Opposing him is a cracker-colored marksman with a rifle, aimed right at him. ‘Lethashot’, or so I’ve heard. He’s made a quick reputation of just shooting all around the place, executing his own form of justice.
“You monster,” Lethashot coldly states, still not seeing me observing the scene.
“For what?” Cicada coughs, slowly getting back up. “Protecting everyone?”
“Saving those villains,” he replies. “All of them, they don’t deserve a second chance.”
“Maybe,” he answers. “But, neither of us get to take that judgement in our own hands.”
“Then you’ll die for it.” He raises his gun; without thinking, I raise my hand as the gun discharges. Cicada winces, expecting a bullet clean through the head.
Except it never comes; I float down at the scene, glaring at this predator with a true predator’s glare.
“I personally don’t care for your philosophy,” I admit, “But this man, he’s my plaything. You don’t get to touch him.”
“Hisolo?” Cicada asks.
“Shush now,” I reply, freezing Lethashot in place for a moment. His eyes dart around, stuck into a body unable to move, unable to talk. I look down at Cicada, still battered and bruised, but alive.
“There are still people-”
“Fine,” I reply, flicking my hand that suspends the rickety building in place. “Now, for you.” I open my mouth wide, gulping his head down. The crowd gasps, but I ignore their pleas: I swallow down this man, his sweat mixing with the blood as his own body refuses to fight against my power, against all of this. I’d normally take longer to savor this, but I don’t have the luxury of time. Still, he does remain sweet, if a bit salty; like roasted walnuts, I suppose.
I let out a long exhale, looking at the human-shaped mass now contained within myself. The crowd again murmurs among themselves, wondering just what kind of a creature I am.
It’s time to remind them that I am one to be feared.
I let go of my control over Lethashot, watching him scramble as he and his gun fall onto the floor. “Get up,” I command.
“Hragh!” he yells, throwing a used magazine at me. I don’t move, watching it slow down as it approaches me before just stopping; freezing in midair. Lethashot doesn’t notice as he reloads his weapon, hastily adding a new magazine.
“Did you, or that silly organization, ever figure out what my powers were?” I ask.
“Of course,” he replies, aiming the gun at me. “Freezing stuff.”
“Wrong.” I snap my fingers, the gun heating up before the barrel simply melts, turning the precision weapon into nothing more than scrap. As if to prove my point, the gun clicks uselessly a few times. “It’s amplification. More specifically, it allows me to simply ‘increase’ the amount of something. Air particles, heat… or perhaps something as simple as your heart rate."
“What are-” they’re the last words he say before he begins to reach at his chest, the internal organ inside continuing to beat faster and faster, out of his control.
“Have fun with heart failure,” I coldly reply as I feel it just stop. He keels over, collapsing with a clank from all his armor.
“Is he…”
“No,” I answer Cicada, finally addressing my delicious prey. “He’s alive. Much to my own misunderstanding on what his relevance is.” His heart merely stopped, just for a brief moment; enough to cause some damage, I think. “Anyhow… relax.”
“There are still people in danger-”
“Ack, if they haven’t left it by now, then they’re idiots. Besides, you’ve obviously done the hard work of rescuing the most vulnerable first. Though, you have your own wounds.” I hold him in place, my stomach acids seeming to slosh over him as he sighs not in agony, but relief; quiet relief as the aching in his bones continue to fade.
“It seems potent,” he comments.
“Of course it would be,” I answer. “It’s far more effective the closer you are to me.”
“Miss?” a girl asks, walking up to me. I look over this cute little one with an afro. “Did you eat that man?”
“So what if I did?” I ask, leaning down to her level. “There are creatures who eat others… like little kids.”
“Hisolo, don’t tease the child.”
“Cool, can you teach me?”
“What,” me and Cicada say in unison.
“Rebecca!” a concerned dad says, shielding me from his child who continues to look at me with obvious concern.
“Dad, she’s cool!”
“She’s dangerous.”
“He’s right,” I admit. “Dangerous people can do good things once in a while. Believe me, I’d know.”
“Mr. Cicada will be ok, right?”
“Of course,” I answer. “Just rest your sorry ass down somewhere and let the grown ups handle this.”
“Ok!”
The duo walks off, oddly uncaring about my comment.
“Hisolo, please don’t swear around kids.”
“What, it’s a public space!”
“Still… thanks.”
“I only did it for you,” I answer.
Still, it’s good to do something nice once in a while; reminds me of why I was a hero.
And now, here I am; using my own stomach to incubate someone.
Note: Despite not hinging on this plot, Lavender is a recurring character from day 3.
Title: Fleshy Stuffing
Plot Summary: Mad Thaumatologist Lavender wants to test out one of her latest ideas. Fortunately, one of her girlfriends ‘Echo’ is nearby to test out the inner kinks!
Note: Does contain vore, but safe vore explicitly.
Word Count: 1011
Adjectives: Relevant (to work), Fringe (of society), Unverified (untested)
I idle-mindedly tap my pencil, looking over the plans I’ve written. “Nothing seems right here.”
“What’cha doing?” Echo asks, floating by and wrapping the lower half of her pale ghost form around my waist. “Boring science stuff?”
“Yes,” I sigh, biting my lip to hide how much I enjoy her comfort. (I don't want to give her the satisfaction of teasing me.) “I want to figure out what happens when a soul possesses something. Is it full control? Partial? Can they feel anything?”
“Don’t you have that golem?”
“Homunculi,” I correct. “And her name is Sirfris. She can’t fully feel through her limbs, but she’s just one. I need a larger sample size, but unfortunately, we don’t have enough ghosts.”
“And just how will drawing out in your notebook help with that?”
“They’re just sketches for automata,” I answer. “But each time I keep looking into them, and adding those parts to Sirfris, they just feel like they have no feeling.”
“What about something softer?” Echo proposes. “We’ve got a couple of spare plushies from the princess.”
“Perfect!” I answer, getting up. “Time to test the theory if fluffy stuff provides a better touch sensation!” We march our way to the room, widely opening the door to see plushes of all sorts of sizes – some a bit larger than me, others smaller. “So, just pick one to possess then.”
“Roger roger,” Echo says, floating into one of the dolls – a human-sized teddy bear with white fur, still somehow pristine. Now coated with a pale blue aura, it stands on its hind legs like any regular bipedal animal. “Ah, never gets old,” she claims, sighing with some sort of interest.”
“Well, any feeling?” I ask, setting down a toolbox I had brought with me. I touch the palm with a sharp screwdriver, lightly prodding at it.
The bear merely shakes its head. “Nope, nothing.”
“Tch,” I sigh.
“Well, there is another way to test this.”
“And what would that be?” I ask, turning around.
Only to be met with a large plushy open maw.
“WAIT-” I cry out, only for my head to be covered with darkness. With little effort and a simple flourish, I’m left floundering in the air, legs kicking out. There’s no throat, but the pull of gravity is enough to pull me down the teddy’s throat. I fall face first into some soft plush, light peering out from the worn out seams. I pound at the chest, only to be yanked back and left with pale white stuffing surrounding my body and limbs. “REALLY ECHO?!”
“I dunno what you’re talking about,” she teases, reaching a paw that pushes at the bottom of the chest and raises me up. “I mean, you did walk into this.”
“Yeah,” I scream, “Because I thought you wouldn’t immediately devour me!”
“Well, skill issue,” she answers as I start trying to climb out. However, plush starts pulling down at my dress and drags me back into this not-stomach. “Oh no,” she starts. “You’re staying down here.”
“Ugh,” I groan, even if the stuffing starts to feel like a blanket the way it collects onto my limbs and shoulders. “Just let me out, I have work to do!”
“As fun as this is,” she asserts, “You haven’t slept for what, more than 6 hours?”
“5 actually.”
“Not helping. So, you’re staying here.”
“Ugh,” I groan, crossing my arms. “Fine,” I admit. “I wish this was warmer, but-”
“Oh I can help with that,” Echo answers, the blue aura now stronger around the fluff.
Before I can blink, I’m smothered by the fluff that overtakes me. It begins to heat as a coil wraps around me, making it all start to feel warm and comforting. Much like Sirfris’s stomach…
“That’s good,” I admit to my own chagrin.
“See? So just get reasonable sleep, and-”
“Fine,” I sigh. “Just grab me my toolkit. It’s got a pillow in it.”
“Alright then.” Echo moves the bear, each limb slowly moving as it then grabs the toolkit. With another fluid motion, it swallows the kit that then falls down. “There you go.”
“You fool,” I tease, opening it to find some proper Pain Sensors.
“Oh,” she realizes.
I stab a few metal bits into parts of the stomach, waiting for a reaction. The plush pauses, then seeming to look over its arms.
“Echo?”
“Woah, I can… feel,” she answers. “It’s not a strong feeling, but it’s there.”
Plush again starts to wrap around me, even starting to cushion my hair. I slow my breathing, taking the moment to enjoy each slow press, each little bump as my back and stomach are pummelled by so many small specks.
“I can feel you,” she continues, spectral arms now curling around me. “You’re a bit cold, but there.”
“So it did work,” I remark. “That’s good then. We’ll still need more subjects though.”
“And how will you catch them?” she asks, playfully manifesting her face in front of me.
“Like this!” I answer, opening my mouth wide and clamping down on her spectral head as my teeth find their mark. She struggles as she’s slurped down, the plush falling down as I finish consuming this feisty ghost now pounding at my stomach walls.
“Oh come on!” she cries out.
“So, what have we learned about forcibly consuming someone?” I ask, rubbing over as more tremors start to form.
“That it’s an amazing feeling!” she answers.
“We ask for consent,” I answer, sighing as I open my mouth wide, her spectral form floating out.
“Oh, and what about that plan of capturing ghosts Ms. Ghostbuster? A lot of consent is involved there, isn’t it?”
“Of course I wouldn’t use that,” I scoff. “I’d just politely talk to them, nothing more.”
“Urgh, of course your goody-two-shoes self would do that. The things I’d do to you…”
“Oh?” I prod, smirking as I pull her in the pile of fluff. “Prove it,” I answer. “Prove you’re more bark than bite.”
“I’m more devour than devouree,” she replies, again coating me in white soft fluff.
Title: 'Rattler'
Plot summary: An aged and experienced explorer by the name of Vixa is prepared to finish her journey, having explored the rest of the world. However, she again comes across the naga Xevisa, one who continues to have a particular interest in her.
Note: Has vore in it, but safe vore specifically. (Meaning no death nor digestion.)
Word count: 1109.
Adjectives used: Desperate (change / love), Boring (dull old life), Speedy (fast snake / swallowing sequence)
I sit atop the hill, looking down at the massive mountain ridge below. I let my legs hang off the edge, bones getting weary from the long journey. “It’s nearly the end, isn’t it?” I murmur as seagulls fly off into the distance. They scream incessantly, but still with their own tune. Meanwhile, I’ve been working myself down to the bone just mapping and surveying the whole world. I wonder if they’ve been around as long as I have. I pull out a map and start sketching out the last of this region. This is as good a place as any to sketch out my final moments.
However, before I can blink, a tail coils itself around my waist. .
“Really now.” I demand, groaning. “Why won’t you leave me be?”
Scales slither against the ground, followed by excited hissing and the flitting of a tongue. “You know you can’t get rid of me Vixa,” she answers.
“Well, once I pass away, you can collect my work and send it back,” I retort to Xevisa. “We’ve had enough of each other for one lifetime, I imagine.”
“I always did wonder,” she admitted, wrapping her green tail shining like peridots gently around my waist and pulling me away from the edge. “What made you want to explore the world?”
“Pure curiosity,” I answer as the sun reflects off my skin. And of course, it’s one that seems to nearly match the tone of rosy brown skin my avid follower has – our only difference being my warmer undertone.
She again combs through my locs with her hands, feeling through the inky black hair. After some point, I never tried to stop her. Besides, it’s oddly adorable when she does that now. I feel her hesitate, getting a sigh from me.
“Sit down,” I command. She does as she asks, curling her tail further around my waist as she rests her head below mine. Aged yet still bright brown eyes shine towards my face. Her tongue again flits through her lips, two-toned much like her little rhythm. I pet the little brown afro she has, affirming, “You’re still beautiful when you’re like this, you know.”
“Beautiful?” she asks, latching onto the compliment.
“You know what I mean,” I scold. “I’d be a fool if I didn’t recognize your innate beauty. Much as some men seem unable to.”
“But we don’t live for men,” she answers, starting to hold my head close. Her temple rests against mine as she continues, “We live for the thrill, don’t we?” The edge of her tail again continues to rattle, like a dog who wants more and more affection.
“Hmph,” I chuckle mildly. “Guess we do. I never quite understood why you wanted me, anyhow.”
“Hot,” she answers. “In the figurative sense – so bright, so eager. So desireful.”
“All true,” I admit. “But now, it’s over. There’s nothing else to explore. The stars won’t open up for us any time soon.”
“Maybe they will,” she counters. “Once we’ve created ships that explore beyond the sky.”
“Maybe,” I admit, putting her face aside and continuing to sketch out the last of this land.
“Can’t you focus on me?” she pleads as if she’s still a child. “You know how I feel towards you.”
“I know, I know. You’ve had this unrequited crush for a long, long time. I have no clue how far back, but-”
“Oh, back when we were but children and your parents had conducted a survey to determine how much taxes we paid.”
“Ack, don’t remind me of that. It was such boring work, without any fun. Sailing is boring in its own right, but exploring these little specs of land – that’s where the intrigue, the excitement is. 25 years of my life, spent on all this.” I sigh, resting my head against her long tail. “How quickly time goes.”
I finish my map, the last amongst my collection. I roll it up the aged parchment and tuck it into the satchel I always carried with me, holding all the rest I’ve created and updated. “I’ll simply spend my time here,” I state, passing the now useless satchel over to her after taking out a cap for my hair.
“Well so will I,” she replies, refusing to unwrap herself from me. Nonetheless, she does accept my little ‘present’ and puts it around her shoulders, body covered by a sleeveless leather tunic. “Though, can I-”
“Of course,” I cut off, offering my hands to her mouth.
Her eyes light up as she then gulps them down, softly as if not to break me. She acts as if the past wouldn’t have done that to me already. My arms follow soon, along with my head that surrounds the cold light with warm darkness. Her throat and stomach continue to pull me down as I wriggle through her system quickly and efficiently. It’s the ritual her people use whenever they choose a mate for life, and while I never quite understood the reason behind it, I still liked it.
Plus, with her experience, she never has to struggle with getting me down her throat – in fact, I’m pretty sure she challenges herself to swallow me faster everytime.
Still, it’s comfortable being surrounded completely and entirely by someone you love, their loud rumblings assuring you that you’re still here and with them. I hear her tail again rattle as she slithers off. The sounds quiet, nature being replaced by her scales scraping against stone. A soft pressure starts to form around my torso, the result of arms from the outside wrapping around me.
“You’ve still never lost that flavor,” she mumbles.
“Of aged jerky?” I jest.
“Of leaves,” she answers. “I can feel you the same way I can touch a leaf, see it wrapped around my little finger. I want to keep you with me. I don’t want you to leave me.”
“Me neither,” I admit, pushing my head against where her’s probably is. Saliva again continues to drench my clothes, but I’m used to this – it’s like being submerged in a warm bath honestly. A cosy bath without bubbles, but one that continues to relieve all the pressure built up after long, long years. “I don’t think I could stand to leave you,” I admit. “As irritating as you’ve been, it’s also been pleasant, knowing someone was there with you along the way.”
“Finally! You’ve admitted it!”
“Hmph,” I chuckle. “Guess I have.” It seems like I’ll be on this Earth for a while longer now. I suppose… there’s fun in a journey with someone else.
Besides, if that gets tiring, I can always journey through her bowels.
