Nomvember 2025, Day 1 -- Deal.
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.
“Huh?!”