Obsessed with a pred overindulging a little, especially with G/t vore. A full and squirming belly packed full with tinies, every single movement any one of them makes something the pred call feel against the strained walls of their stomach. Tiny ripples of movements flutter under their skin, and they rub their belly, causing all the prey within to cry out in a myriad of different muffled voices as they're all shuffled around in the tight space. They barely even move, too firmly wedged against the strained folds of the belly and each other to be jostled.
Bonus if the pred tries to get just one last tiny down and has to really struggle to cram them in there, swallowing repeatedly as they feel an uncomfortable pressure at the top of their stomach. Their fingers worriedly rub their middle, tracing around the squirming lumps tucked beneath their skin and kneading in an attempt to coax their prey further along into their intestines...
All the jostling does is cause them to hiccup, and although it's not a lot... with the pocket of air gone, the stomach is allowed a little more space to relax, only for the pred to gulp one last time and seal their last mouthful in their churning gut.
A pred could also pair this sort of meal with a drink- perhaps a hot tea to try getting their prey to digest faster to create more room. All the prey can do is thrash and wriggle with more vigour at the sound of the pred eagerly and repeatedly gulping above them, a steady stream of hot liquid spilling into the belly and causing those stuck against the bottom of the stomach's lining to frantically try clawing their way up. Maybe the tea doesn't help digestion, but the pred wouldn't know thanks to the fact that how much it makes their prey struggle certainly does.
They can't even fight back properly. Too bogged down by the hot drink causing the already sweltering temperature to rise further as liquid soaks through their clothing, weighing them down. The stomach around them is eagerly churning, one rippling wall firmly settled against them thanks to the pred rubbing them and cooing about how good of a meal they all made...
And of course, if they make it whole and alive into the intestines... the pred walking their fingers along the curve of their lower belly to single out each individual squirming lump. Just to remind them of their place, trapped in gurgling darkness, squeezed by muscles set on pulling them deeper... deeper...
A sudden pressure above them causes a new bout of squirming, though they're all shocked when they feel wriggling from above the fleshy 'ceiling' of the pred's intestines.
The pred's already indulging again. They plan on filling each inch of their gut with squirming tinies, and with the lovely wriggles of their meal settling in with longer gurgles and glorps... well, it just makes them hungry.
Luckily for them, tinies are easy enough to come by, and more than easy enough to swallow.
I just… *clenches fist* love preds who, as a personal rule, don’t ever let their prey out once they’re in their stomach. like physically they COULD, but they just… won’t
and it isn’t even a malicious thing. they have plenty of prey friends that they have never and WILL NEVER touch… unless the prey gives the go-ahead. and a lot of times the prey friend doesn’t even really comprehend what they’re getting into like…
“are you even really a pred? I’ve never actually seen you eat someone one,” friend 1 asks.
“oh, I definitely am,” the pred answers without even looking up from their phone.
“yeah?” friend 2 prompts. “could you do a little demonstration to prove it?”
that gets the pred’s attention. “what? on one of you?”
friend 1 shrugs. “yeah sure. if you can even do it.”
the pred is already sliding their phone into their pocket. “and this is what you really want?”
“yes, definitely,” friend 2 confirms. “I’ve known you for years. I’d really like to see you try.”
“well,” the pred says as they reach for friend 2, “if it’s what you really want…”
and within a minute, friend 2 slides smoothly down the pred’s throat and fills out their stomach. “told ya,” is all the pred has to say.
the pred gives friend 1 a few minutes to run their hands over their belly in awe, feeling friend 2 within curiously poking about their new surroundings. eventually the interest wears off and the pred sits back down, returning to their phone.
“aren’t you going to let them out?” friend 1 asks after a moment.
the pred squeezes absentmindedly at their stomach’s new occupant and only spares a distracted glance at friend 1. “ah sorry, no. I’ve never let a prey back out before and I’m not about to start now.”
the form within them begins to shift about a little more uncomfortably.
“but… but they’re your friend?” friend 1 can only stutter.
“yeahhh, they are,” the pred agrees looking genuinely a little sympathetic. “but you guys said you were cool with it and I’m not about to change how I do things now. again, sorry.”
by now, friend 2 is in a panic trying to escape, but the pred seems unbothered. they merely knead their prey back into submission with one hand and continue typing on their phone with the other.
at a loss, friend 1 can only stand there and gape. the rest of the day they’re forced to watch the pred’s belly get smaller and softer, knowing friend 2’s fate is partly their fault and they themself were only spared by pure chance. they try not to flinch every time friend 2 gathers what strength they have left to fight back, but their struggles grow weaker with each passing hour. friend 1 never challenges the pred’s abilities again.
or… OR the prey knows EXACTLY what they’re getting into, or so they think. they’ve been dating the pred for a long while now and have been considering offering themself as a meal lately. the idea of being made one with their lover is very appealing to them. but they also know it’s very permanent so it’s taken months to build up the nerve to take that one last leap of faith. finally they find the courage to ask.
the pred raises a surprised eyebrow. “really?” they question in disbelief. they aren’t opposed to the idea, they just never would have expected it from their lover.
the prey nods sheepishly, cheeks growing bright red.
the pred immediately drops everything and gives their partner their undivided attention, expression deadly serious. “you know it’s a one way trip, right? this decision is final.”
“I know,” is all the prey answers. “I’ve always known.”
the pred nods, satisfied. without further ado, the take their partner into their mouth. they ever so slowly swallow them down, giving them plenty of opportunity to change their mind. but they don’t. a few minutes later, the prey is sealed within their final resting place.
to keep things romantic, the pred puts on their partner-turned-meal’s favorite movie while they digest. at first, it’s just a tingling sensation for the prey. but then it’s an all encompassing burning. suddenly, this is far less romantic than they’d expected. their pred partner had always been so sweet and gentle, but then inside of their stomach is absolutely brutal and unrelenting.
“I’ve changed my mind,” the prey suddenly gasps, fighting against the crushing walls. “I don’t want this anymore. please. let me out.”
the pred just gives their belly a few comforting rubs. “sorry, love. but you already know that what goes into my stomach doesn’t ever come back out. you’re just going to have to stay right where you are.”
this isn’t what the prey wants to hear. they quickly turn to begging, then bargaining. finally they’re reduced to sobbing. it all falls on deaf ears as the prey massages their lover throughout the whole process and continues watching the movie. by the time the film is over, the prey has given up on escape. the only signs of life the pred can feel as they get ready for bed is the occasional twitch or shiver from within. when they crawl into bed and curl around their belly, they make sure to wish their partner one last goodnight. the only response they get is a weakened kick. the pred smiles as they drift to sleep.
Prey trying their best to argue and convince a pred that they are worth sparing, only to trail off when they realize that the pred does not care for their reasons at all, hungry and impatient.
Prompt: The Ghost of Christmas Present isn't filled from the Christmas feast and only y/n can fill his appetite. [from @that-homless-panda via Ko-fi Commissions]
You awaken to the savory scent of your mother’s cooking. Still hazy, you scrunch your nose. You had just said goodbye to the Ghost of Christmas Past. Why does it still smell like you’re in your childhood home? You roll out of bed, pull your slippers on, and follow the scent downstairs.
It’s not hard to figure out where to go. The sound of silverware scraping on plates leads the way to the dining room. When you step inside, you find that somehow it has become impossibly large. The ceiling looms far above you, and the table and chairs look like they were crafted for someone twice your size. The most noticeable difference, however, is the presence of a strange man seated at the far end of the table.
The man is big, nearly as wide as he is tall. You’re dwarfed by him. His cinnamon beard falls in luxurious waves over his chest. His silk clothes are lined with golden thread. And from the full curve of his gut, you can tell he is no stranger to fine dining. Yet, strangely enough, you see no evidence of food. Not even after following its scent down here.
The man beams as his shining eyes fall upon you.
“Tidings to you!” he calls. His voice booms across the room, a full, rumbling sound. “I am the Ghost of Christmas Present! Would you care to join me for a Christmas feast?”
“A feast?” you repeat blankly. You glance about in case you’ve missed something. “But I don’t see any food.”
The giant man throws back his head and laughs. “It should be right on this table,” he tells you, sweeping an arm outward. “But you’re so small, you probably aren’t able to see it from down there. Here,” he extends one large hand towards you, “I’ll help you see better.”
You hesitate, but he keeps his hand extended, an anticipatory smile on his face. It seems like it would be rude to keep him waiting so you take a deep breath and cross the expansive dining room floor. As soon as you are close enough, you place your hand in his.
His fingers close, completely enveloping you, and before you can do anything else, he’s pulling you upwards. Your feet leave the floor as you’re pulled higher and higher. Then, just like that, you’re on solid ground again. Well, almost solid ground.
You look down to find you’ve been lifted onto the table itself. The polished wood creaks as you shift about, trying to orient yourself.
“There we go,” the Ghost says. The two of you are eye-to-eye now. “That should give you a better perspective.”
You glance down at your feet. Nothing. You turn around to look down the long table. It’s completely empty.
“I still don’t see any food,” you say.
“Really?” the giant’s voice says behind you, sounding suddenly much closer. “Because all I can see before me is a feast.”
You spin around. The Ghost of Christmas Present has leaned forward so his face is right next to you.
“A— a feast?” you stutter.
The giant nods, never taking his eyes off you.
“I don’t know what you—”
“Shh,” you’re cut off as the giant plucks your wrist between his fingers and pulls you even closer. “Dinner is about to be served.”
“No, wait—” but it’s too late as your hand is shoved into the giant’s mouth. You stiffen and grimace as he curls and runs his tongue over your arm.
“Mmm,” he hums as his eyes flutter shut.
“Stop!” you demand. “Don’t do this! Let me go!”
The Ghost opens a single eye, annoyance etched into his expression. With a little huff, he pulls your hand back out but doesn’t let you go.
“Sorry about this, but the Ghost of Christmas Past already determined you’re a lost cause,” he tells you. “Besides, somebody has to be my feast before I set the table for everyone else I must visit tonight.”
The blood drains from your face. “I’m not a lost cause,” you insist, your voice surprisingly desperate. “The Ghost of Christmas Past already reminded me of so many things I’d forgotten. If you could just give me a chance—”
But the giant is already shaking his head. “Your bitterness is evident from just a single taste. Your heart has been hardened beyond repair. But come now, I have a long night ahead of me. You can still be useful for something.”
And with that, he stuffs your hand back in his mouth.
“No, wait, please—”
The last of your begging is cut off by the giant sucking you in up to your neck. You sputter as your face is pressed into his tongue, then sucked deeper to the back of his throat.
And then he swallows.
You’re forced into the tight confines of his throat. You can feel his tongue wrap around your waist as you’re dragged in deeper. He swallows again and your feet leave the table. They kick uselessly in the air. If you could have, you’d have gasped in surprise as you feel the giant tilt his head back.
There’s a light massaging against your body. More than just the flexing of the surrounding throat. They’re fingertips, kneading you downward. The giant takes one more swallow and your toes are lost between his lips.
A few seconds later, you’re forced past a tight muscle and into a hot, stretchy chamber. Your limbs are crammed into an uncomfortably tight position as you are shoved unceremoniously into the giant’s stomach.
From all around you, you hear the giant let out a sigh. You’re shifted slightly as he leans back in his chair.
“Now that was a feast,” he proclaims. His voice booms impossibly close to you now.
You feel his large hands start to roam his already round belly, now made even more swollen by your form tucked away within. As best you can, you kick back.
“Mm,” he murmurs. “Yes, I took you for a lively feast.”
This only enrages you further. You start kicking and punching at every inch of stomach lining you can reach. You scream every obscenity you can think of, and when that doesn’t work, you’re reduced to begging for your release.
It has no effect, however. The only response you receive is a slow, steady massage from strong fingers on the outside.
You’ve completely exhausted yourself by the time the giant lets out another sigh. “Well, I could fall asleep right now if I had the time. But we have a long night ahead of us.”
You scramble as you feel the giant stand suddenly. You try to brace yourself as he starts moving about, bending forward, lifting things up. Every once in awhile, his hand presses gingerly into you again.
This goes on for some time, and you wonder what the giant is even doing. But then something falls on your head. Several bites of turkey and a spoonful of mashed potatoes. And then it dawns on you. He’s preparing a feast. A real feast.
You gather up the last of your energy to give another indignant kick.
He only chuckles. “Sorry, I can’t help but take a few samples sometimes. It smells absolutely delicious.”
After what feels like ages, a jolt runs through you as the Ghost once more takes a heavy seat at the table.
Everything goes still for several minutes. You wonder if it’s finally over. But then the giant straightens and calls out in his great booming voice to some new stranger that you’ll have no hope of ever seeing.
“Tidings to you! I am the Ghost of Christmas Present! Would you care to join me for a Christmas feast?”
