Hey! If you’re doing requests for writing, may I ask for one of Rennick x female reader. Reader is tiny and Rennick’s giant. Rennick does fear play on the reader because the reader is actually a nice person on the right even to ppl like him and Addair. So he wants to have fun with her dear. Turns out she’s a fighter, even lifting his mouth open to try and get out. She doesn’t know about the safety of the stomach. So soft vore like. Sorry it’s long it’s just so good to see another vore lover in this fandom!
Rennick & Brave female reader (Safe Vore, g/t)
(;ŏ﹏ŏ)(;ŏ﹏ŏ)(;ŏ﹏ŏ)(;ŏ﹏ŏ)(;ŏ﹏ŏ)
The howling of the storm outside the oil rig’s windows was nothing compared to the roaring pounding in your chest. The colossal waves of the North Sea whipped mercilessly against the platform's steel stilts, causing the entire complex to subtly shudder at irregular intervals. Yet this force of nature paled completely against the threat looming directly in front of you.
You stood on David Rennick’s monumental desk, crafted from dark mahogany. With your height of barely ten centimeters, everything in this room felt absolutely gigantic. The coffee mug to your left had the dimensions of a bottomless well, the heavy silver fountain pen looked like an ancient siege weapon, and the man throning behind this desk resembled an unmerciful titan from another world.
In truth, you were known on the platform as the "good soul." You always had a kind word for the hard-working men and women in their oil-stained overalls. Even toward the most tyrannical superiors like Rennick or the unpredictable Addair, you always remained polite, respectful, and warm-hearted. You firmly believed that every human possessed a good core deep down inside—one just had to uncover it with patience and empathy.
Yet it was precisely this unshakeable good nature that had awakened Rennick’s sadistic streak. For a man who defined power only through fear and oppression, your mere existence was a provocation. He wanted to see this innocent, kind facade shatter under extreme pressure. He wanted to witness the moment your optimism turned into pure despair. In short: he wanted to have his cruel fun with you.
"Ye're always so bloody friendly, lassie, so ye are. Think ye can just smile your way through ma station, eh, ben?" Rennick’s deep, rough voice boomed through the luxurious office, the bass in his voice vibrating the wood beneath your feet. He leaned back in his heavy leather armchair, elbows on the armrests, fingers interlaced. His gaze locked onto you like a predator cornering a defenseless mouse. "Even tae me, so ye do. Ye smile, ye greet, ye gie a helping hand. Ye think if ye're just nice enough, naething's gonnae happen tae ye on ma rig, eh? That the hale wide world is a bloody petting zoo? A fatal mistake, laddie."
You were just about to open your mouth to reply in your usual gentle voice, to somehow diplomatically defuse the situation, but it was too late.
Before you could bring out a single word, his giant hand shot forward with terrifying speed. To your small eyes, it was like a crashing wall of flesh and bone. His thick, calloused fingers closed mercilessly and tightly around your narrow waist. The pressure was immediate, stealing your breath for a moment.
You let out a startled, choked sound as he effortlessly lifted you off the desktop. Your legs dangled helplessly in the air as he brought you up to his eye level in a single, fluid motion.
The wind howled outside in a shrill pitch as Rennick held you just a few centimeters away from his face. You could feel the heat of his breath on your skin and see the icy, mocking glint in his dark eyes.
"Let's see how friendly ye bide when fear's clawin' at yer neck, eh, ben? Nae soft smilin' is savin' ye now."he growled with a cruel, wide grin that bared his teeth. His fingers squeezed just a tiny fraction tighter—just enough to show you how absolutely and completely you were at the mercy of his whim.
Rennick slowly opened his mouth. The scenario now unfolding before your eyes was like a nightmare come true. The wet, hot cavern opening up in front of you was absolutely terrifying, looking like the gateway to another, darker world. His flawless rows of white teeth gleamed menacingly in the dim, sterile light of the office, like the blades of a waiting guillotine. Centimeter by centimeter, he guided you closer to the yawning abyss. He savored every single second, relishing the naked, unvarnished terror in your eyes, waiting for the exact moment your psychological resilience would finally collapse. He expected you to cry, plead, and whimper for mercy—just like the rough guys on the platform did when he brought them to their knees.
But Rennick had underestimated one crucial thing: you might be nice, warm-hearted, and always polite, but you were no cowardly, defenseless prey. Within your chest beat the heart of an unyielding fighter. Anyone who believed that kindness was a sign of weakness didn't understand you in the slightest. You were already tiny, yet you had still asserted yourself in a brutal, male-dominated profession on this isolated oil rig. Furthermore, your best friend on the platform was none other than Finlay—and anyone who was friends with such a tough, strong-willed woman quickly learned how to stand their ground. If old Rennick thought he could just break you like that, the Installation Manager was going to have to try a hell of a lot harder.
When he finally shoved you headfirst between his fleshy lips, and the suffocating, wet heat of his breath enveloped you like a heavy blanket, your survival instinct kicked into absolute overdrive. Adrenaline flooded your veins. Instead of freezing in shock or breaking into a panic, you fought back with everything your small body had to offer. You balled your tiny fists and, with pure, concentrated willpower, struck hard against his sensitive lower lip.
"Oho… we’ve got a proper wild yin here, by the looks of it. A feisty wee thing, aren't ye?" Rennick mumbled dully. His voice sounded strangely vibrating and deep through his half-closed mouth. He was visibly surprised by your sudden, fierce resistance, but instead of intimidating him, it only amused him all the more. For him, it was like a captured bird thrashing in his hand.
With an arrogant snort, he pushed you completely into his oral cavity and firmly closed his lips behind you.
Abruptly, an absolute, suffocating darkness enveloped you. The heavy, pungent scent of bitter coffee and strong tobacco hung in the air like a dense cloud, nearly choking you. Beneath you, the floor shifted—his massive, wet tongue rose, trying to relentlessly force you backward toward his deep, dark throat. You couldn't possibly know what he intended, and you knew nothing of the absolute safety of his stomach. For you, there were no nuances in this moment: this was a brutal, deadly struggle for naked survival.
But you strictly refused to admit defeat. You had no intention of going down without a fight in this darkness. With all your might, you dug your legs firmly into the soft, yielding tissue of his tongue to anchor your stance. With a furious, determined cry, you thrust your arms upward. You pressed your small hands flat against his hard upper palate. With the sheer, unbelievable strength unlocked by the pure adrenaline in your veins, you braced yourself simultaneously against the palate above you and the tongue beneath you. You made yourself as big and rigid as humanly possible.
Outside, in the brightness of the office, Rennick’s eyes suddenly widened in pure astonishment. “...Mmmph?! What the bloody...?!” he rumbled internally, the immense vibration shaking the dark space around you like a minor earthquake. The mocking expression on his face froze. You were so unimaginably tiny, and yet, with your titanic will to survive, you actually managed to challenge his jaw muscles! The pressure you exerted from the inside was so focused that you forced his heavy teeth a small distance apart. A tiny, gleaming slit of light suddenly pierced the wet, dark mouth and cut through the darkness as you iron-willed your way to breach the barrier and forge your path back to freedom.
Rennick let out a deep, rough, and thoroughly amused rumble. The sound waves rolled through his entire oral cavity like a mini-earthquake, making every single fiber of your small body vibrate violently. For a brief moment, your sheer willpower and the unexpected strength you put on display genuinely seemed to impress him. Yet this fascination quickly gave way to his usual arrogance. At the end of the day, he was still David Rennick, the undisputed, tyrannical ruler of this gigantic oil rig, and he had finally had quite enough of this little rebellion.
He decided to bring a sudden end to the demonstration of your resistance. His massive jaw muscles flexed like thick steel cables. Against this raw, biological force of nature, your dainty arms didn't stand a ghost of a chance; they were effortlessly and mercilessly crushed down. His heavy rows of teeth closed again with a dull, final click, and the saving slit of light that had just given you hope vanished in a fraction of a second. You were trapped once more in absolute, pitch-black darkness.
Before you even had the time to reposition yourself in the thick flow of saliva or plan another escape attempt, Rennick shifted his tactics. His colossal, muscular tongue rose massively. It robbed you of any remaining freedom of movement, pinning you flat as a flounder upward and pressing you ruthlessly against his hard, ridged palate. You were completely immobilized, pinned between flesh and bone.
Outside in the office, Rennick slowly and relishingly tilted his head back. He took a deep breath and swallowed once—heavily, deliberately, and with a terrifying finality.
The sound echoed in your ears like a dull beat of a kettle drum as the swallowing reflex kicked in. You were swept over the base of his tongue and propelled straight into the yawning throat. Instantly, the wet, muscular walls of his esophagus gripped you. The tight, fleshy tunnel enclosed your tiny body like a living vice. Every breath was stolen from you as the peristaltic waves—an unstoppable, rhythmic cadence of muscle contractions—squeezed you deeper and deeper down into the living darkness.
There was absolutely nothing you could do. There was no foothold, no edge you could have clung to. The suction and pressure of this biological machinery were simply too powerful for your ten-centimeter frame. You slid downward relentlessly, centimeter by centimeter, while the outside world of the oil rig and the howling of the storm fell completely silent. Instead, the soundscape inside your new, fleshy prison was dominated by something else: the loud, deep, and absolutely dominant pounding of his heart, thudding directly alongside the esophagus. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Each beat vibrated through the walls, a stark reminder of whose power you were at the mercy of.
The tunnel seemed endless, but the pressure pushed you ruthlessly further down until you reached the bottom of the esophagus. With one last, heavy, and wet plop, you passed through the tight sphincter of the gastric entrance.
The confinement abruptly gave way to an eerie vastness. You fell a short distance through the darkness and finally landed unsafely on the soft, wet, and rhythmically pulsating floor of his stomach.
Gasping, lunging for air, and utterly exhausted, you remained lying in the absolute, impenetrable darkness. Your heart was racing wildly, and the adrenaline that had just driven you to peak performance now gave way to a leaden fatigue. Cautiously and with trembling hands, you felt around to explore your new surroundings. It was tight, incredibly warm, and the organic walls around you felt soft, velvety, and damp, while pulsing in a sluggish, comforting rhythm. You instinctively held your breath, squeezed your eyes shut, and braced yourself inwardly for the unbearable, burning pain of stomach acid—but it never came. Instead, a pure, almost protective warmth enveloped you. It didn't hurt. Your body signaled no danger to you, but rather a strange, biological security.
Suddenly, Rennick’s voice boomed from far above through the thick muscle tissue. It sounded muffled, yet still deep, powerful, and filled the entire cavity as if the space itself were speaking to you.
"Ye’re a proper teuch wee thing, I’ll gie ye that. Got a bit of iron in yer backbone, eh, ben?" his voice echoed in the darkness, and every syllable caused the walls of your fleshy prison to gently vibrate. At the same moment, you felt a change from the outside. The stomach wall shifted as the gigantic Installation Manager placed one of his heavy, massive hands onto his abdomen. He stroked slowly, almost thoughtfully, over the curve of his belly—right where you were located—and then pressed gently but firmly against it. The soft pressure from the outside rocked you a little back and forth. "Tae fecht agin' me… naebody on this hale rig has ever had the stones tae dae that afore you, ben. They usually fold like paper."
You curled deeper into the pulsing confinement and pulled your knees to your chest. Your clothes were completely soaked from the plunge, but the paralyzing panic of the last few minutes now finally gave way to a deep, unstoppable exhaustion. You were trapped, there was no doubt about that. You were deep inside the interior of a man who ruled the entire oil rig with an iron fist. And yet, as paradoxical as it sounded, you were absolutely safe in this moment from the raging storm outside and from every other danger.
"Ye’re stayin' deep inside here the night, lassie. Locked away in big Davey’s belly, and that's an end to it." the voice from above announced mercilessly, yet allowing a completely new, noticeable undertone of genuine respect to ring through. He no longer considered you just a defenseless toy. "Gie it a rest now. Ye'll be needin' yer strength the morrow when I let ye back out. But just you mind this, lassie: no matter how hard ye try tae fecht, I always hold the winning hand. Ye're clean in ma power now, and don't ye forget it."
You didn't answer. Instead, you pressed your small hands gently and almost gratefully against the warm, rhythmically vibrating stomach wall. You had lost this unequal battle, but you had fought it with your head held high, proving to the giant that the spirit of an unyielding warrior lived within your small body.
The dull, steady thump-thump, thump-thump of his mighty heart droned reassuringly from above, acting like a lullaby in the absolute isolation. While the storm outside the oil rig’s windows whipped against the steel in vain, you closed your eyes in the safe, warm darkness of his interior and fell asleep, exhausted but unbroken.
