This blog will focus on the cheater boys of Stex, Electra, GB and CB.
All fics and posts will be tagged accordingly and flagged accordingly just in case. If there is something that you’d like to be added to the tags, let me know and I will tag them accordingly.
Discord server:
I have created a 18+ discord where you can meet, chat, share art, etc with other people! If you’re interested in joining, please go ahead and shoot me a DM. I will check and verify if you’re over 18. If not, or if you have no age in your bio, you will not be let in!
I have created a 18+ discord where you can meet, chat, share art, etc with other people! If you’re interested in joining, please go ahead and shoot me a DM. I will check and verify if you’re over 18. If not, or if you have no age in your bio, you will not be let in!
Tw for fatal vore and strong language under the cut! I know Turnov isn’t one of the eater boys but I had to post this oldie but Goldie of mine!
You readjust the grip on your rifle as the blistering cold wind howls in the dark, and freezing night. Even with all of your gear on, you are still able to feel the bitter cold of the wind from the snowstorm. You long to be back at camp sleeping in a warm cot, but no. You’re stuck out here on guard duty. This war between the humans, and the machines just keeps getting worse, and worse. As much as your Colonel tries to reassure you, and the others that the humans will win the war, it seems to be more of a dream, knowing the machines have basically seized almost all the major capitals all around the world. Now it seems like it’s only a matter of time before the machines take over the world completely, and who knows what will happen after that.
You jump, and whip around when you hear something huge rush past you from behind, only to see nothing but darkness, and the pelting snow. You hear something rush past you again. Now you know you are being stalked. You immediately whip around and cock your rifle, ready to defend yourself if necessary. Suddenly, you feel something ram into you head on, knocking the breath out of you, and forcing you into the cold snow on the ground. You try to aim your rifle at whatever is attacking you, but something punches you in the face, hard, and you black out.
A few minutes later, you slowly come to, and look around, only to see the darkness of the snowstorm. You freeze as you feel a blast of warm air that smelled like oil hit you in the face. You look up, and your eyes grow wide in horror once you see your attacker. A red, and silver humanoid electro-diesel looms over you. You squint to try, and get a better look at the engine’s features. You realize it’s Tu/rn/ov, the trans-siberian express. Years ago, he used to race to try, and achieve the title of the World Champion, but those times are far behind him. He now wages war against man-kind.
You try to get up, and run away, but he has you pinned down on the freezing cold snow. You are now at the mercy of the electro-diesel. You hear a low rumble from the electro-diesel’s tank, and he slowly licks his fangs, not a good sign. Hopefully, he just wants the package of crackers on your belt. You look down at your waist, and notice your belt isn’t on you. You look around, and spot your belt, along with your pistol, rifle, and the package of crackers in the snow a bit aways beside you. You stiffen, and freeze in pain as you feel Tu/rn/ov’s rough tongue brush against your cheek as he tastes you, likely sampling his meal. The hot saliva burns, and almost freezes in seconds, making you realize how cold it really is out here.
Turnov lets out a pleased purr, and you look up at him in sheer terror as you grow pale. Oh Sta/rli/ght.. You are about to become his next meal. You yell for help as loud as you can, but the wind carries the noise away from the camp. You are unarmed, and no one can hear your pleas for help, an easy meal for the electro-diesel. You whimper as Tu/rn/ov moves in close, and opens his maw, revealing his long, and sharp canines. Beads of saliva drip from his maw, and onto your face. You brace yourself as he slowly moves in, expecting to be ripped apart right then and there. However, much to your horror, you feel no pain, and Turnov easily slips your head into his gaping maw. You shudder as you feel Turnov tasting you, savoring the flavor of his meal. You begin to panic, kick, and squirm. You would rather be ripped apart than be eaten alive like this.
Tu/rn/ov starts to swallow you down with terrifying ease. When he gets down to your shoulders, he finally releases your arms, and you immediately desperately try to scramble away from him, and try to punch him, only to hit metal, and injuring your hand. By that time, the electro-diesel has swallowed you down most of the way. You are helpless against him, a quick, and easy meal to him. Inside Turnov is slimy, squishy, and almost hot to where the heat is almost unbearable. You would rather be huddled next to the fire back at camp than taking a one way trip to the electro-diesel’s tank.
After a few moments, he tilts his head back to let gravity pull your legs down his gullet, and into his awaiting tank. You feel yourself slip through a tight ring, and start to slip into his hungry tank. His tank growls loudly, wanting more food to fill it. Once he gets down to your feet, he closes his maw around them before swallowing them down with ease, sending the rest of you down his gullet. You feel the rest of you slide down into his tank. It’s hot, and cramped, but you can still move around a bit. You push out against the rubbery lining of Tu/rn/ov’s tank, prompting a purr out of the electro-diesel.
Tu/rn/ov sits on his knees, and pats his full belly, satisfied with his meal. He can’t stick around for long. The other humans can spot him if they think something is off. He slowly stands up, making you squirm inside his overstuffed gut. He grabs your rifle, belt, and pistol, and lumbers back to his own base camp.
You use all your strength to punch, and kick at the walls, trying to make him queasy. However, it seems that he enjoys your struggles, purring, and rubbing his slightly bulging gut whenever he feels you squirm. You feel like you’ve been struggling for hours, and you begin to lose hope. Your gear will help prolong the inevitable digestion, but who knows long your gear will last against Tu/rn/ov’s stomach acids.
Turnov finally arrives at the base camp, and sits down next to the fire to warm himself. He sets your pistol, rifle, and belt aside before leaning back, and patting his belly, making you flinch a little. You can faintly make out the crackling of a fire just outside of your prison over the loud gurgles, and groans of his tank. He has a camp somewhere, probably far from your own base camp. It’s probably full of rolling stock bent on destroying the human race as well. You flinch as Tu/rn/ov belches, and his tank becomes even more cramped than before. The acids start to trickle from the walls of his tank as his tank starts to churn around you as it gurgles, and groans loudly as it starts to do its work, treating you like any other piece of meat. Your struggles become more desperate. You’re not going down without a fight.
Tu/rn/ov chuckles, and rubs his full belly. “Still not tired, human? When will you learn we are superior?” he pauses. “And at top of food chain.”
“Fuck you!” you punch at his tank walls as hard as you can. Tu/rn/ov grunts before rubbing the sore spot on his belly.
“Whoa, saw whole hand there for a second. Good thing I like belly rubs to help me sleep.” he chuckles softly before getting up, and grabbing your belt, pistol, and rifle before trudging into his tent, and setting your things aside beside his cot. He lays down in his cot, and yawns, lazily rubbing his gurgling, and groaning gut.
At this point, the acid is being worked into your gear. You can hear the acid burning away at your gear as his tank churns relentlessly around you. He belches, letting out a good amount of air from his tank. You eventually have to stop struggling due to exhaustion. All you can feel is burning, and extreme heat. It’s obvious that your fate is sealed as an easy meal to the International. All you can do now is wait for the inevitable to come.
It isn’t long before Tu/rn/ov drifts off to sleep with a full belly. His hand lazily rests on his slightly bulging gut as his tank digests his meal completely. After all, he needs as much fuel as he can get for any possible battles that may happen the next day.
By the time next morning comes, you are completely broken down, nothing more than fuel for the diesel-electric hybrid. He is suddenly awoken by the alarm before grabbing your pistol, rifle, and slings your belt over his shoulder. He races out of the tent. Time for battle.
If the mouth of a train leads to the stomach, how do passengers normally board without getting vored? Like, for the purposes of riding? I'm searching for answers.
In the AU I have, they can switch to a rolling stock form, meaning passengers can board without being swallowed down. They have a humanoid form, a rolling stock form, and another form but if the passenger wants a VIP experience.. they better be ready for a long ride.
On top of that, all rolling stock have two stomachs, or tanks. The first one is for digesting food into liquid so it can be used to fuel their bodies. The second is for storing food … or prey for later or just to carry around.
The storage stomach is literally meant to hold and cradle. It has a lot more give and stretch to it than the main stomach.
Tw for fatal vore and mass vore. Drabble under the cut.
You search endlessly throughout the yard for your missing coworkers. They had promised that they’d take with you with them to the local diner for lunch break today and they haven’t showed up yet. You only have an hour lunch, and it’s been fifteen minutes now. Surely,they would show up by this time. You begin to wonder if they’re pulling a prank on you, but you know them well enough to acknowledge the fact they’re always on time and never late. You begin to wonder if something came up or if they forgot? Surely, they would contact you by now if something happened. Deep down, you feel as if something is wrong. They wouldn’t just leave you here out of the blue.
You ask around, asking your other human coworkers if they’ve seen any signs of your work friends and every single one has the same answer. They haven’t seen them since the start of lunch break. You feel a knot form in your stomach, worry, fear. You are well aware of the dangers of working at the railyard. The rolling stock are not exactly machines. They are powerful predators and you along with your coworkers are easy prey to them if you’re not careful. However, the pay makes the risks well worth it.
Your search continues into the freight yard. You know a lot of the employees here like to eat their lunches here and watch the trains go by. You round the corner and you freeze dead in your tracks as you feel an overwhelming sense of dread.
Off to the side, lounging on his side and purring with his eyes half shut like a well fed cat basking in the sun is CB. His hand rests against the side of his swollen abdomen and he gives it a smug little pat, prompting the poor unfortunate souls trapped inside, your friends, to cry out and squirm deep within the belly of the beast. He gives a small smirk as he stifles a burp behind his hand and sighs as his main tank ruthlessly churns around his meal, reducing your friends to nothing more than fuel for the caboose. He’s blissfully unaware of your presence, too focused on the ecstasy of having such a large and lively meal.
His nose twitches as he catches your scent and his pale blue eyes immediately open and he smiles a wolfish grin as his stomach growls, clearly more than ready for dessert. He licks his sharp teeth as he stands up and chuckles softly. The muffled pleas of your coworkers nearly drowned out from the sound of merciless digestion, a warning to you. You take a step back and he advances, but before he can give chase, you immediately turn and run as fast as your legs can carry you, horrified at what you just witnessed.
You know the risks of working here, but you add a new one to the list. Stay away from the red caboose during lunch time.
What are your favorite designs for the boys ? Or do you have your own original designs ? Your banner and pfp are well made !
I like the pre 2018 versions of the boys in my honest opinion. Of course, all the boys have those sharp eyes and dangerous sharp teeth. I’ll be sharing different headcanons too.
Also, thank you! They were done by the lovely Moff! They’re absolutely wonderful!
I have created a 18+ discord where you can meet, chat, share art, etc with other people! If you’re interested in joining, please go ahead and shoot me a DM. I will check and verify if you’re over 18. If not, or if you have no age in your bio, you will not be let in!
