Used to be "Vore Thoughts For Horny Thots". Same vibe, new look. This is a NSFW blog to dump all my awful little vore thoughts. Mostly (only) Male Preds, Giant Men, and shrunken women smut here. Sorry giantesses/female preds, I think you're all beautiful though~ • 30 years | She/Her | Prey | Gay (ironically)
Gentlemen, are you sick of eating the same old thing day in and day out? Tired of processed foods? Feeling lethargic regularly? Do you go to the refrigerator 3-4 times in a row just to be disappointed every time you swing the door open? You may need a radical change in diet!
Adopting a strict diet of swallowing other people whole will drastically improve your vitality! A meal plan of 3-5 people per week will result in improved cognitive function, energy and mood. Hunting to complete you meal plan also provides a sense of self-worth and accomplishment!
{Male Prey role player looking for Straight Male Preds} ⬇️
RP Guide (24+ ONLY/STR8 Guys Welcome) | Ageplay Guide | Diet Plan | Vore Multiverse Guide | Send Me Anons (But State Your Age)
My queue has been full since I was 26... I'm 30 now. My writing style has evolved and everything I was saving to post later has devolved into shit!! 😭
I think it's about time for a remodel. I think taking the form of what if my OCs will actually help me write here a lot more consistently. Or at least more consistent than once every 5 years. The character of Tanika White is an aloof author from the '70s-90s, so I might as well kill two birds with one stone and flesh out the style I want for her will also we're turning to my roots here.
Currently, I've noticed up in a bit obsessed with developing my own borrower universe for lack of a better term. Little fae creatures who can either live on the precipice of complete fantasy worlds or within the walls of any uninspired suburban household is incredibly enticing! I love that borrowers themselves are a concept based in folklore but popularized by a book from 30 years ago.
Putting a perverted and mystical spin on it is what blocks like this are made for.
Though I cannot and will not promise anything close to consistency, I will at least outline a few of the basic ideas that I do have below. That would make it easier to write like I used to with this specific theme without having to explain it every single time. Same gluttonous themes with a bit more discipline.
Like a vorny sandbox.
Homebrewed Borrowers
So, when I say borrowers, I definitely mean the tiny people who live in your walls and borrow food and other useful trinkets. However, I never could wrap my head around the idea of them giving them back. I know in a lot of Gaelic folklore, the wee folk do take things like eating utensils and pins and whatnot to use them or play with them before discarding them somewhere odd. Have you ever found a fork outside for no real reason? There you go. However, for the purposes of what I will be posting in the future, the creatures I'm creating are slightly different.
Tiny beast people who are more rodent than fairy—no pretty beatle shells or butterfly wings here. A tiny race of nomadic folk who More than outnumber us but still avoid us since they get no bigger than four and just tall. As humans evolved from apes, these people have evolved from rodents.
They have long limbs despite their small size. Sharp little claws for digging and killing birds and bugs, with long prehensile tails that have a bit of wispy fur the end like tiny lions, or how unicorn tails have been illustrated in medieval art. They have sharp ears, point it like little elves, and fangs like cats. Much like cats, their pupils are sharp for seeing through tall grass and calculating depth. Despite these beastly features, they are just as intelligent and communicative as humans, the much more aloof.
I do imagine that they do have magic embedded within them, though they don't use them like spells. Much like how untainted soil has its own life and magic to it, as well as trees and naturally flowing water, they have a natural sort of magic in their blood. Making convenient little potions to scare away large predators and occasionally manipulate large human-made objects come just as naturally to them as all the innovative ways to use fire has came to us.
I won't get too much into that because I do want to explore more about their connection to certain magic and the Earth one day. I will say, however, if a particularly cruel and gluttonous human manages to consume these little people in mass succession, there will definitely be unforeseen consequences. The same kind of consequences that befalls feral animals who decide to feast on their boroughs.
That's basically the basics of the borrowers I'm working on.
They can be anywhere, hosted by anyone, And they can be in mortal danger at any given second. It all depends on what's introduced to the environment, and what kind of people would want to get their hands on these elusive treasures.
It's important to add that I will still be posting random little thoughts at 3:00 in the morning like usual. However, do the currently hyper fixating on this specific borrower universe I'm trying to flush out, those thoughts will just be more specific and streamlined.
My queue has been full since I was 26... I'm 30 now. My writing style has evolved and everything I was saving to post later has devolved into shit!! 😭
I think it's about time for a remodel. I think taking the form of what if my OCs will actually help me write here a lot more consistently. Or at least more consistent than once every 5 years. The character of Tanika White is an aloof author from the '70s-90s, so I might as well kill two birds with one stone and flesh out the style I want for her will also we're turning to my roots here.
Currently, I've noticed up in a bit obsessed with developing my own borrower universe for lack of a better term. Little fae creatures who can either live on the precipice of complete fantasy worlds or within the walls of any uninspired suburban household is incredibly enticing! I love that borrowers themselves are a concept based in folklore but popularized by a book from 30 years ago.
Putting a perverted and mystical spin on it is what blocks like this are made for.
Though I cannot and will not promise anything close to consistency, I will at least outline a few of the basic ideas that I do have below. That would make it easier to write like I used to with this specific theme without having to explain it every single time. Same gluttonous themes with a bit more discipline.
Like a vorny sandbox.
Homebrewed Borrowers
So, when I say borrowers, I definitely mean the tiny people who live in your walls and borrow food and other useful trinkets. However, I never could wrap my head around the idea of them giving them back. I know in a lot of Gaelic folklore, the wee folk do take things like eating utensils and pins and whatnot to use them or play with them before discarding them somewhere odd. Have you ever found a fork outside for no real reason? There you go. However, for the purposes of what I will be posting in the future, the creatures I'm creating are slightly different.
Tiny beast people who are more rodent than fairy—no pretty beatle shells or butterfly wings here. A tiny race of nomadic folk who More than outnumber us but still avoid us since they get no bigger than four and just tall. As humans evolved from apes, these people have evolved from rodents.
They have long limbs despite their small size. Sharp little claws for digging and killing birds and bugs, with long prehensile tails that have a bit of wispy fur the end like tiny lions, or how unicorn tails have been illustrated in medieval art. They have sharp ears, point it like little elves, and fangs like cats. Much like cats, their pupils are sharp for seeing through tall grass and calculating depth. Despite these beastly features, they are just as intelligent and communicative as humans, the much more aloof.
I do imagine that they do have magic embedded within them, though they don't use them like spells. Much like how untainted soil has its own life and magic to it, as well as trees and naturally flowing water, they have a natural sort of magic in their blood. Making convenient little potions to scare away large predators and occasionally manipulate large human-made objects come just as naturally to them as all the innovative ways to use fire has came to us.
I won't get too much into that because I do want to explore more about their connection to certain magic and the Earth one day. I will say, however, if a particularly cruel and gluttonous human manages to consume these little people in mass succession, there will definitely be unforeseen consequences. The same kind of consequences that befalls feral animals who decide to feast on their boroughs.
That's basically the basics of the borrowers I'm working on.
They can be anywhere, hosted by anyone, And they can be in mortal danger at any given second. It all depends on what's introduced to the environment, and what kind of people would want to get their hands on these elusive treasures.
"Please - please stop! I'm - I'm not a bug! You'll kill me!"
Ariadne tried to desperately to pull free, but the pins in her hands burned with pain at even the slightest of movements.
Her right foot felt broken where another pin had been cruelly forced through it. Even if she could somehow free herself from those, the pins in her wings had pierced through the membranes; flying would be impossible.
The human was humming as it worked, its giant face as high as a mountain above her and the features obscured by colourful light that glared painfully in through the stained glass window.
Despite knowing how terribly trapped she was, something in her couldn't accept it. If she could just get through to the human! If it knew she wasn't some insect, but a living breathing faerie!
"Hey!" She called, her voice breaking with a sob, "Can't you hear me?!"
But if it could, it just continued to ignore her.
Ariadne tried to catch her trembling breath. She closed her eyes and laid her head back against the canvas for one exhausted moment. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and the human continued to hum.
"Idiot," she choked out, "you're such an idiot..."
She hadn't told anyone she would be exploring the human village today, not even Nessa who she trusted with her life. The last time she tried to go, they stopped her and she got the telling-off of a lifetime from Old Nan.
'But I'm always so careful!' she had insisted, 'We're too fast for them to catch, I've never been caught before! It'll be fine!'
Would they think she had just run away? Would they even bother looking for her? If she was a danger to the other faeries...would they just leave her? Leave her here, pinned to a canvas, to slowly die?
Ariadne opened her teary eyes, and choked on a gasp.
The human's huge hand had another deadly pin, and this one was hovering right over her abdomen. She shook her head wildly, eyes wide with panic.
"NO!" She screamed, pulling at her arms even though the pain was blinding, "No! Please - please stop! I'm not a bug! You'll kill me! You'll kill me!"
The hovering pin paused, its vicious point pressing against the petals of her skirt.
"Hush now, little thing," the human said - its voice rumbling, patronising and loud, like the voice of a god, "a pin won't kill you."
"You..." Ariadne sobbed, "you can hear me?"
"You're quite a loud one, aren't you? And strong! Most of the faeries I pin pass out quite quickly from shock. Doesn't it hurt?"
Ariadne sniffled, flinching as the giant face of the human lowered closer, and its huge shining black eyes stared down at her. It bared its teeth in a terrible grin.
"It - it does -" she said, "it does hurt! So - so please! Stop! Take them out! I'm begging you!"
"We'll have plenty of time to talk later," the human said, its grotesque pink mouth forming the words, its breath a hot wind on her face.
"No!" Ariadne cried, "No - no, please! Don't - !"
The pin sank into her stomach with a sickening crunch.
Her entire body tensed with pain too great to scream, too great to make any sound but a choking, desperate attempt at breath.
"You can't imagine how challenging it is to avoid major organs and bone structures in such a tiny subject," the human said, though its words were warbling and muffled in her ears.
"Ahh....a -ahhh...."
"Hmm, that's quieted you down, hasn't it? Oh, don't be so dramatic, at least I didn't sever your spine like the last one!"
It laughed, a horrible rumble that vibrated through her body.
And that was the last sound Ariadne heard before a dizzying darkness overcame her, and she passed out cold.
When were you little bastards going to tell me about The Miniature Wife??
What else is there to be sad? I watch the trailer, I watched the pilot, and I am stupid with how hot it is!!
I'm not going to give a play-by-play (yet probably). It's on Peacock and I highly recommend!!
It's funny, it's pretty, and the toxic marital dynamics with a narcissistic man actually taking control of a woman is intoxicating!
I will 100% dump the show if they do the stupid reverse thing. If I see one more shrunken man I'm going to lose it. In the meantime! I'm here for all the good parts! 🤤😍
Never did anything for 8/8 before, will probably never do it again. Time is an illusion, and the year is almost over already. Fuck. Anyway, here’s some horror-ass, serial killer coded shit for all the other gross freaks. Its short and vague but, man, this is my bread and butter. Hope the vibe I’m going for translates well. Happy Vore Day!
She couldn’t see. This wasn’t the hollow, reddish dark from before, however. The kind that, if she moved her hand close enough, she could just make out the silhouette of her fingers. This was blindness. Pitch black. She could feel her eyes open but was unable to perceive anything. That was all she could feel. Everything else was numb.
She couldn’t feel herself. Not her legs, or her arms. Not her skin or her bones. But she could feel her eyes. Numbly blinking in that same steaming lake she barely remembers plopping into. She could no longer feel the strange bog. Not the clammy tightness or the occasional rumbles. Not the heavy-weightless shifting of immense flesh all around her, or the subtle sting that worked on her so slowly. All she had, beyond her blinking eyes, was sound.
It must have been days of that numbness. Days of that blindness. All she had left was her ability to hear. Before, she heard her own screams echoing from the fleshy walls of her tomb. Then, when her voice became horse and her joints too tired to bang out in protest, more noises taunted her. Deep, moist gurgling that she learned took her sight. Haunting bubbling that later numbed her body. And something else that still lingered beyond the endless grumbles. Something that came and went between times of rest and times of weak consciousness. It was the distant sound of voices.
Crying. Laughing. Music. Static. Whatever this distant something was, it was the only thing keeping her sane. It reminded her of home. Of fresh air. It reminded her of how summer nights could be so warm and bright, and winter days so dark and cool. The contradictions of the world beyond that she took for granted. If she could feel, she knew she would cry whenever she heard that distant something click on. Or maybe she was always crying in the dark. Ruined cheeks forever streaked with tears.
Even though she couldn't see, and she couldn't feel, and she couldn't move, and she couldn't breathe—just maybe she could speak. She didn't know within this steaming limbo if she was forever mute or always screaming. She had long stopped feeling her body being shifted around in the slimy blackness. She had thought her voice went with her strength. But maybe all she needed to do was try one more time. Maybe if she could will her eyes to close completely and remember summer nights and winter days, her voice would somehow return. Though she couldn't feel any air enter her lungs and what air she could detect reeked of bile, she allowed herself the strength to try. And without seeing, without feeling, without moving her body or taking much breath, whatever power was left in her melting body allowed for one last scream. Her own air ripping through the pungent tightness. Her own sound drowning out the once comforting distant static.
***
Like clockwork, he clicked on the evening news. Before allowing his immense weight--almost 8 feet of fat and muscle--to punish his old chair, he always clicked on the news. The only reason he was able to remember her face was the fact that it was plastered on his screen every night at the same time. Sometimes it would be her smiling picture on a missing persons flyer. At other times it would be a crying couple that shared her features. He of course wondered if they tasted just as good as she did. He also couldn't help but wonder how her face looked now. Not nearly as pretty. Not nearly as flawless. A soft and mulling mass. Not even a parent could love.
They must still really love you though, he thought, rubbing his ever-gurgling gut with one hand and changing the channel with the other. After a week and a half, I know I would have given up. Oh, well.
A sudden and immense belch erupted from his insides. He knew as predators like himself always seemed to know, that was far from a final breath. It was surprising. Jarring. And the subtle squirm that accompanied that reminded him of those early days. He couldn't wait to have another one. He smiled down at his ever-working belly.
“Good,” he groaned. “Looks like you still have some fight.”
The man worked to provide and you were always squandering his fame and fortune by getting into trouble, flunking out of college, if it happened, you probably did it.
So there you are, walking out the shower, not giving a shit as your dad was out in the hallway, blocking the path to your room.
“Sup Pops!” As you approach.
But he doesn’t move and you accidentally bump into him.
“You’ve been a bad son to me.” Your Dad starts.
“Bad sons need to get punished.”
You back up, waving a hand dismissing him.
“Whatever Dad, I’m old enough to make my own choi-“
You should have paid more attention to your father.
Waving him away just as he rushed into you and pushed his fat hairy gut into you. The wind was knocked out of you and you tried to push you dad off, but he had you pinned.
You don’t expect to have to fight your dad! It was like his attitude had been slowly changing.
Sure, not like you ever paid attention to him, but your usual kind father now had an aura about him that set fear into your heart!
Maybe you thought about fighting him, but something was off and you wanted nothing more than to make a run for your car and drive away until this all blew over.
But suddenly your dad let up! You took a deep breath but suddenly got slammed hard into the wall once more as your dad put all his weight into belly bumping you once more.
Thrust after thrust as you body continued being slammed against the wall, only to be pushed back into your dad who pushed his gut back at you.
Over and over until you felt battered, bruised and exhausted.
Even worse when he grabbed you by the neck.
Even worse when after this torment do you look forward as your dad had unhinged his jaw and pulled you into his mouth.
With no strength to fight, you wiggled weakly as your father opened wide and shoveled your pathetic self into him.
He gulped and swallowed as you could only put up the most weakest of a fight.
Your towel dropped down, sliding down his now swelling tank as he was already stuffing your legs past his lips.
Inside you find it tight and compact. You worry you’ll have no air to breathe as your frightfully squirm in panic.
Trying to speak; finding it hard. You even get pushed into a tight space. Can’t find up from down. You place a hand on the wall and a hand pushes back.
In fact, everything gets pushed against you.
Outside, your Dad is almost chuckling as he pushes his now massive stomach against the wall over and over as he can hear a faint moan from inside.
“What? Let you out son? Oh no. My mistake was letting out you in the first place…”
He let the room go silent and watched his belly shift left and right.
“Oh no. I think this is a wrap for our relationship son. Tried to give you so many chances and you threw them back. Maybe it’s my fault for not being more strict with you but I guess this is my way for making up for it. Besides. I was ready to have no strings attached with my life anyways, and you were the last thread. Didn’t plan on eating you either, was hoping you’d be successful in college and out of my life. But I guess you hanging off my waistline permanently is the best option for both of us.”
Dad continued rambling about how much he enjoyed this when suddenly-
“GLOORRRPRPP!”
Dad had talked so much that he didn’t even register his son’s weakest attempt for freedom before he succumbed to the powerful gut muscles currently digesting him.
“Oh well.” Dad said with a shrug; laughing as he jiggled his gut as he could now hear his stomach working his son over to pudge.
And with that. Dad went into his son’s former room and kicked off his clothes.
He laid on the bed, rubbing his belly as he simultaneously rubbed one out.
After letting a few ropes fly, Dad eventually passed out as he was ready to enjoy his new, son-free life.
Giant world, not too unlike our own, just a little more advanced. While humans are in the dark ages, giants are sliding into their 1930s. Odd, colossal, future-elves they seem like.
Humans who visit this giant world are usually witches. Most witches avoid cities and live in massive forests. However, some covens sneak into people's houses to take resources and find a steady place to stay with all the food and shelter they need. Giants perceive them, these flying magic using things hiding in their homes, as faeries.
Witches are to giants as fae are to us: mysterious little magic using borrowers from a different world.
Hmmm thinking about the delicious stages of post-digestion. After a few long hours of a orey squirming, struggling, and screaming to be let out, they finally succumb to the pred's stomach and are churned and melted down...
All of that sludge is slowly pumped throughout the pred's body. Soon, their stomach is empty again, but their intestines are full of what was previously a living person. Now, though, they've been reduced to sustenance, nothing more than a plump curve in the pred's gut. Come morning, there will be almost no sign that the pred indulged in such a meal... Except for a small layer of pudge added to the pred's hips.
I ain't been writing but I have been drawing. Take this new Rooney. Hopefully changing it up a bit will actually make me wanna make something this year lol
kaledo-art
annaxmalina
yousharknotpass
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