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someone hand me the bleach, i just saw pregnant konig
Sometimes I wish people would refer to me as a dog, I love being human (sometimes), but I want to be called a puppy or good boy or something like that (NOT in a sexual way). I would love to be treated like a dog, I want to be pet, loved, held, and spoken to as if I were a dog
đ«Ł aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Donkey Kong Scene Rewrite
This was originally published on Wattpad on February 8, 2024. Warning: Contains near vore and Mario movie spoilers under the cut, so um yeah, I canât tell if it gets better or worse from here lol. Enjoy!
As Mario steps out into the blinding light, the deafening sound of hundreds of Kongs cheering rings in his ears. Or, now that he was regaining his senses, it sounded like booing. It was booing.
Heâs starting to regret this.
The plan had been simple on paper: Travel with the princess and Toad to the Kong Kingdom, and beg for the assistance of the great Kong Army. In practice, though, this hadnât worked out so well, and the gang had been denied. Mario, desperate for the help and for his brother to be saved, doubled down and refused to leave until they got said army, with the agreement being that Mario would fight the son of the mighty Cranky Kong.
Mario now stands idly, awaiting his challenger while the crowd lambasts him. Suddenly, silence filled the stadium as monstrous footsteps are heard from the large doors. Marioâs heart rate accelerates as his anticipation, fear, and regret grow immensely, sweat dripping down his face. With no further warning, like a frog on 5-Hour Energy, a large ape with a red tie bounces into the arena. Now, the crowdâs previously demeaning sound had become a sound of admiration.
Mario, hoping to find any sign of weakness, assesses his opponent. This large brown ape, now identified as Donkey Kong, is probably double his size. He wore a hairdo swirled like frosting, massive arms and pecs that could crush a cannonball. Around his neck was a red tie with âDKâ embroidered in yellow. Immediately, he demolishes two barrels with his gargantuan fists.
Iâm screwed.
âEnough with the showboating!â
Mario comes out of his daze just in time to encounter a glimpse into the dynamic between father and son and Donkey Kongâs current ego trip.
âWhat do you mean?!â Donkey Kong incredulously asks. âItâs what they came here for! Dancing pecs!â
The zealous ape then proceeds to flex his pecs, causing even more wild fanfare. In an attempt to get things started, Cranky Kong yells,
âOkay, simmer down. I said SIMMER DOWN!â
Once Diddy Kong gets the memo, Cranky begins to explain the rules. Mario listens intently.
âNow, since I want this fight to last more than five seconds, I put power ups around the arena. Youâre welcome, Mario.â
âI donât need anything special to break every bone in your tiny body!â Donkey Kong yells, killing most hope Mario has.
As the crowd cheers, most intelligent thought leaves the mind of our favorite red-clad plumber. A nervous laugh emits from him, followed by an âAlrightâ and a charge towards Donkey Kong. He jumps. He prepares a punchâŠ
Only for Donkey Kong to slam his head against the faded red girder and repeatedly slap Mario in the face. Currently, Mario is in pain as each thick slap connects with his sensitive facial skin. Peach and Toad can only cringe in horror as their kingdomâs only hope is made into a fool before the crowd.
âGuess youâre not getting my army!â Cranky Kong confidently jests as the younger Kong kicks Mario in the stomach, sending him careening nearly off of the girder.
As Donkey Kong has his ego fed by the cheerful crowd, Mario, not about to be deterred, takes a moment to climb back up. Above the apeâs head, a glowing power up box glows. Mario forms an idea. If he can get the Super Mushroom, he can grow to Donkey Kongâs size, leveling the playing field. Unaware of the existence of other mushrooms, Mario begins running towards it.
âIt is on like Donkey Kongâ the other creature in the ring quips. However, despite his charge, he is unable to snatch the sly Mario, who slips under and grabs the mushroom in the box.
âYouâre about to pick on someone your own size,â Mario ironically says, taking no notice of the color of the mushroom. Popping the foul-tasting mushroom into his mouth and quickly consuming it, Mario lets out a yell and begins charging towards Donkey Kong. He had not realized what literally every other soul there had: the mushroom was in fact the rare Mini Mushroom. Not often found in arena duels, this mushroom is the antithesis of the Super Mushroom: it shrinks instead of grows.
Mario slows as his war cry quickly becomes a war squeak. Shrinking to a miniature size, Mario quickly realizes how badly heâs screwed up. Heâs now only a few inches tall and susceptible to damage from everything. The previously large ape is now a towering threat that had triple the advantage. He also has no way of reaching a power up.
Donkey Kong is initially surprised by this. He had been expecting an actual challenge from his oversight. Perhaps he shouldnât have boasted. Oh, but now. Now his âopponentâ was a bite-sized nuisance with no defense.
The ape bends his head down to Marioâs level and emits a giggle. Marioâs heart rate is currently running a 500-yard dash as his fight or flight instinct came in. What little rationality he had at this point chose flight. Mario fruitlessly scurries away as in three bounds, the massive Kong bounces Mario into his palm.
As he now gazes into the endless spheres of black known as the eyes of Donkey Kong, his flesh turns white and a cold sweat overtakes his hot, tired sweat. No bullying from his old bully Spike, no misadventures heâd faced, not even any of the previous events today could ever live up to the megalophobia Mario is currently facing.
Meanwhile, Donkey Kong is smiling at his newfound plaything. What would be the best course of action? How can I knock out his sense of determination while putting myself on a pedestal? I wish I had eaten breakfastâŠ
With the new silence from a crowd awaiting anything, a new sound cuts through Marioâs miniscule ears.
The deep, gargled growling of Donkey Kongâs stomach.
Slowly, a thought enters Marioâs mind. A horrifying thought, similar to the epiphany the Kong is having, thatâs just accelerating as the spheres he looks into dilate.
Heâs going to eat me.
A thought that would become reality as Donkey Kongâs lips parted, revealing the dark, moist, cavernous interior of his mouth. His tongue pulsates in anticipation, and his hot breath falls upon our plumber, the smell having the faint scent of rotting banana.
Only pure primordial thoughts (and perhaps Ave Maria) could be conjured up as Mario is tossed, flying into a divot created by the apeâs tongue. Heâs then pushed against the hard roof of the maw, being savored. He could only yell as he went further into the cave.
On the outside, Donkey Kongâs mind is racing with intrusive thoughts.
Iâm really about to swallow an opponent!
My fans are going to enjoy this.
This is the taste of victory.
This was a mistake. Mario is soaking in salt. Donkey Kong doesnât like salt.
Back with the snack, the tasting muscle keeps quivering, trying to push Mario away from the gaping hole at the back. Mario can feel every twitch of regret, the physical manifestation of second thoughts. He can tell Donkey Kong is attempting to swallow him, to be able to revel in the victory of defeating his opponent in the single most humiliating way: to turn a threat into just a morsel, a snack, to make the saying âHeâll eat you for lunchâ literal.
(Not that the ape would truly consume him. After all, this was just for show. He was just going to regurgitate him anyway, and throw him out of the kingdom to fend for himself like the tiny thing he was).
And yet, these second thoughts keep Mario in a pool of salty saliva, preventing him from going down the ever-so-close throat. Hope begins to simmer in Marioâs mind that he will be freed instead of going into the stomach.
Donkey Kong is struggling. The pressure pushing him on, but his body simply not having it. The wish to entertain isnât able to beat the rejection of the salty body suspended on his tongue. Eventually, the overriding of instinct fails. Mario is spat straight into the ground with a patootie and returns to normal from the impact. Despite all of the digestive fluids soaking him and everything on him, that sense of determination heâd always had returns.
The crowd, while disappointed that Mario wasnât stewing in their heroâs guts, are certainly happy that Mario has been thoroughly shamed. Victory for Donkey Kong is still likely. Unfortunately for Kong, despite all of the fear Marioâs just faced, all of the embarrassment in front of the princess, all of the failures so far, Mario chooses to continue fightingâŠ
Armoâs Tale of Tomfoolery (Demoman Vore)
Admittedly, I donât really care that much about TF2, and my only knowledge of the lore comes from Dead Meatâs video on that horror movie. When I wrote this, I hadnât seen it but I got this request and was just like âcool, okâ. Even made an OC Iâll probably never draw and an AU for the first time, fun stuff. This was originally written on May 14, 2024 and contains swearing, some mild violence, alcohol, drinkplay, Scout hate, and mentions of object vore. While originally split to include a cliffhanger, Iâm omitting that in this release. Enjoy!
(My knowledge of Demoman and TF2 as a whole is limited, so while I have done some research prior to writing, I apologize for any inaccuracies to the lore or certain character behaviors)
Itâs battle day, innit.
Yup, âtis battle day. The war between red and blue continues again, as tends to happen when wars are instigated for the sick pleasure of viewers from around the world. While youâd think itâs the same as usual, this is incorrect. Blue Team has a truck up their sleeve, a new recruit, a borrower who is referred to as the Armorer, named as such because his job is to steal ammo and other things from opponents and turn in said thieved goods to his teammates. This is possible thanks to his oddly high strength. Simple, right? Well, for the first few battles, it was.
The Armorer was incredible at their job. While the Red Heavy was busy firing his minigun, he managed to steal his handgun. Once or twice, the Red Spy lost his pistol to the Armorer and managed to nab Blue Team kills. Nobodyâs exactly looking for him, and his borrower experience makes him sneaky and quick, which is why he managed to steal so much without being found out. In addition to his main goal, he was also equipped with extremely tiny mines with a powerful punch that could knock an enemy over. This equipped him with an ability to assist in eliminations. Heaven knows he wouldnât be out there if he wasnât useful. Unfortunately, as anyone with basic foresight can tell you, this wouldnât last and frankly couldnât. It would only be a matter of time before he was found out.
It was turning out to be a normal Granary match at the beginning. The teams were pretty evenly matched and the Armorer was on his way to do his job. He stole some guns, some .45 caliber rounds, a shoelace, typical things. For the rest of his teammates, they got decent amounts of KOs. Blue Spy imitated Red Heavy and got several eliminations this way. At one point, Armo snuck into the pockets of an opponent, and the opponent thought they were a mouse and tried to get them out, while Demoman (who will come up later) snuck up and threw a Molotov at them.
About 2 minutes in though, Armo was spotted. Red Scout was doing⊠scouting, when he managed to spot Y/N in the opening, dashing from behind a shipping container to in between two of them. He at first thought it was some blue gerbil, as tons of gerbils exist in granaries, but then some logic managed to set into his troglodyte brain and he realized that it was some tiny man on Blue. Interesting⊠slowly, he followed Armo, attempting to weasel his way between the containers in the same way and getting his shoe stuck for a minute. Armo felt like he was being watched, and looked for a way across the man.
This is where the Demoman comes in. A Scottish man, he had drank a bottle of whiskey already and was somewhat tipsy at the moment. His usually locked chest had a broken latch due to a bar fight the previous night in which the chest was used as a weapon, so Armorer was able to hide inside it next to the whiskey bottle. Screaming loudly, he tried to get Demoâs attention.
âHey Demo! Can I get a ride in your chest across the map?â
âEh sure, buâ Iâm not responsible if ya get nickedâ
So the Armorer hitched a ride in the whiskey chest with Demoman, sitting down upon a bottle of Scotch while holding on to the side of the chest. Every step and subsequent bounce made Armo slip and nearly fall off the bottle. It sucked. The Red Scout, following behind, took a second to wait for a moment when Demo was distracted and snatched Armo by the shirt collar.
âLooky here, we got ourselves a little thief, huh?â
Armo is staring into his eyes, more pissed than terrified at this gigantic twerp, analyzing his motives and every little facial twitch and expression he can find. Several pores were clogged, and his eyes had very little baggage, like heâd actually managed to sleep well knowing that nobody really liked him. Was he going to eat him?
âChasing youâs worked up an appetite, huh? Maybe Iâll just eat you and fix that!â
He claimed he was, but the chance he had of getting Armo down his little chicken throat were slim to none. And even, EVEN if he somehow did, Armo would just blow a hole in his stomach because heâs not in the mood for that. Obviously, this wonât work. Guess who didnât pick up on any of that? Scout, who slowly and in attempting to look cool licked his lips and opened wide.
[At this point, I split the story originally which explains the first paragraph, but I donât really wanna this time]
You may think with the cliffhanger that Iâm going to actually let Scout go through with this, but for the sake of everyone including myself actually enjoying this story, no.
Demo had just killed a Heavy with a grenade when he realizes that Armo wasnât on his bottle. Where did he go? Did he fall out? In his still-decent vision, he spots Scout with Armo dangling above his mouth, and dashes over, snatching Armo with his big sweaty hands.
âEy you! You ainât gonna be eatinâ my wee little man âere!â
âWhat makes you say that, Cyclops?â
âIâll just eat âim me-selfâ
Now, one thing you have to understand is that Demoman makes good on his threats, which makes them more like promises. With a swift little hand flick, he tosses Armo right into his open maw and clicks his teeth shut right in front of Scout. Swallowing a teammate wasnât his attention today, but anything to spite Scout is worth his time.
Armo is currently inside the mouth, beginning to get pissed. The Demo tongue swirls around him some, coating him in hot, whiskey-scented saliva as his nostrils burn off from the lingering alcohol and plaque around. He attempts to get up and shoot the everloving crap out of the teeth, but each attempt leaves him slipping back down like heâs on a waterslide. After having his outfit soaked, heâs pushed near to the back of the throat.
Demoman doesnât want this terrible gunpowder-flavored boy going down raw. Not only would that hurt like a bitch, but whiskey tastes better anyway. So he grabs out his whiskey, pops off the cork with a corkscrew, and takes a big swig of it straight from the bottle. Armo, meanwhile, sees this and immediately dies inside, but also holds his breath as the liquids send him right past the epiglottis into the esophagus. His eyes are somewhat burning with spare whiskey thatâs made it into his eyeballs, and heâs holding his breath for dear life so he doesnât drown in the flaming liquid.
Back outside, Demo sticks his tongue right out at Scout, revealing the empty mouth where an Armo once sat.
âDude, youâre grossâ, Scout can only reply as he gets shot from behind by the Blue Mesic
âWhat on Eart zwas happening here?â
ââAd to eat Armo to protect âimâ.
âZat canât be safe! We must leave at once for ze base!â
Thankfully, Blue Team heard the announcer say âVictoryâ from the sky and so they neednât worry too much about the tiny man in Demoâs guts.
Speaking of the tiny man in Demoâs guts, if there were light inside the stomach, youâd see his face red with rage and maybe steam coming from his ears. With absolutely no hesitation, he grabs an AK-47 and wrecks havoc inside Demomanâs person. If he hadnât been drinking, he might have felt it, too. Pissed with his clothes ruined by his least favorite alcoholic beverage (heâs more into dry wines), being hot and sweating profusely from the humidity of this swampy stomach, he shouts obscenities nobody can really hear over the songs of the stomach churning whiskey and potentially a granola bar.
Back at HQ, the blue Medic, rather than give Demoman ipecac syrup or shove his fingers down his throat, finds an ingenious solution to the problem, a solution that only a man with a PhD and years of experience in the field of medicine could cook up in such a dire moment: beating the shit out of Demoâs stomach until he vomits up the Armorer and maybe some blood too. This is when Demomanâs beer belly and lack of abs come in handy, as within several brass-knuckled punches, Armo is on the floor surrounded by brown vomit and some blood, as I predicted. The Medic begins panicking and babbling in a German accent as he rushes to clean Armo off while Armo is shouting at Demoman words and phrases that I cannot in good conscience repeat here. Lots of shouting is occurring as the Heavy and Spy back away slowly. The Blue Scout was watching TikTok when he heard this and came in completely oblivious to the massive scene that had been occurring, and man was it one.
Itâs five hours later now and Armo is sitting with Demo and Heavy on the couch watching Santa Claus Conquers the Martians and discussing the incident from earlier. Armo brings up Red Scout, and Heavy and Spy both ramble on about what an idiot Red Scout is, how he wouldâve choked to death on a deadly battlefield of all places had he gone through with attempting to swallow Armo.
The Spy brings up the idea that maybe Armo shouldnât be out there anymore.
âThis is proof that this was never going to workâ, the Spy, the guy who suggested this in the first place says. âI told you all!â
âEh, thatâs fineâ, Armo replied, âI can always do server work or something.â
And so it was. Armo got to work on computers. His size proved effective in repairing parts on old Windows XP computers, bought when the Heavy Update was first talked about. Thus, the neverending war for amusement continued, and everyone involved learned from this experience.
This is except for Red Scout, who did try to swallow a spark plug to prove to his red team companions he could have eaten Armo, and received the Heimlich as a result.
Hi
It seems that the community as a whole is sleeping on the potential of the PBS Kids show âWild Krattsâ
Context: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wild_Kratts
Iâm not sure if itâs just obscure, but like, the show has:
Canonical G/T (via the Miniaturizer)
And several vorish scenes. To my memory, hereâs some:
During a termite episode, Chris (in Termite power) gets into the mouth of some termite-eating thing, idk
A bear tries to eat one in a fish power
Theyâre in some flying machine shrunken during the snow and Aviva and Koki are sticking their tongues out and they have to avoid them. OOH
The platypus episode where Chris, miniaturized, is kidnapped by Gourmond and is referred to as an appetizer or something by Zach đ
A whole episode dedicated to a game where the brothers catch their shrunken friends in the mouths of their suits. When Jimmy is caught in pelican power, he cries out, âPlease donât swallow me!â, which idk if they can do that in the suits or not, but OH MY.
The showâs still going, but they havenât gone the WHOLE WAY with this vorebait. Iâm aware one or two people are writing vore fanfics, but I believe theyâre kink pages. There is a G/T fic on Wattpad (written by some kid with bad grammar) that like the series is a TEASE in the vore department. If you see a fic from me with them, this ramble is why.
Previously Titled Pokemon XY Vore Fanfic
The old title, âA Midsummer Nightâs Voreâ, I hate now so we arenât using it. This is indeed the 3000 word fanfic that was originally published in 4 parts in March of 2024. After this Iâm going to write something and wait to publish the Atom Meister saga until later because dammit I wanna write. Itâs either going to be Barley Lightfoot from Onward or something Wild Kratts, weâll see.
So in this one, Ash Ketchum is the pred, but fret not because Iâve aged him up to 14 because the whole â10â thing is strange. If that makes you uncomfortable, though, you may want to skip this story. Anyways, enjoy! (Or at least pretend to)
Throughout regions of the PokĂ©mon world, as with other worlds, there exists different criminal syndicates. Each region has their own unique group, committing crimes and stealing PokĂ©mon for one motivation or another. What these motivations are, for the most part, are to us unknown.These criminal rings consist of the stereotypical trope of a background ringleader and enforcers known in the comic world as henchmen, henchmen that like most suffer from major incompetence issues. Simply put, if it werenât for their physicality and PokĂ©mon battle skill, they would cease to be useful.
None of these groups, however, are anywhere near the scale of Team Rocket, the Kanto crime ring. Lead by gym leader Giovanni, they hold the nation in a griphold of terror with enforcements across the land. In order to maintain his power, Giovanni often demands Pokémon with an abnormally high power level for the sake of an unfair advantage. Two henchmen were known as Jesse and James. The trainers were coworkers with a complicated friendship and shared pokemon, specifically an English-speaking Meowth and for this story, a Wobbuffet. The two had been tasked long ago in capturing a supposedly powerful Pikachu, whose trainer was known as Ash Ketchum. From here on out, the two will simply be referred to as Team Rocket due to the fact that no other team Rocket grunts will be seen throughout the story for reasons that will make themselves known soon enough.
Ash Ketchum. A trainer with dreams of PokĂ©mon grandeur and a Pikachu who never rode in a pokeball. During his journey throughout Kanto, defeating gym leaders, he traveled with friends Misty and Brock. Whenever the two miscreants attempted to intercept the gang, they were blasted off and were unable to attain their goal. Eventually, the gang traveled to the Orange Islands. However was the Pikachu to be captured? A question that was answered with perhaps the most unforseeable answer: follow them out of Kanto. See, gangs never venture out of their territory of origin, often because they canât get a passport. Still, Team Rocket received orders and were forced to leave for the Orange Islands, then for every concurrent region Ash Ketchum journeyed to.
Weâll catch up in Kalos, a nation known for good food, disrespectful civilians, and a striking resemblance to a nation known only to us as France. Here, Ash Ketchum met up with childhood friend Serena, electric gym leader Clemont, and his sister Bonnie. Weâve missed quite a few interactions already, but currently the gang travels through the woods. Jesse and James? Obviously in Kalos, following from far behind in order to not get caught. This is where our story, and the series of halfwitted choices are made by Team Rocket that lead to a⊠unique encounter with Ash Ketchum.
When one lays in the forest, staring at the night sky, ideas pop into their head. Sometimes, these ideas change the world. Sometimes, it provides us with things to do. Sometimes however, these ideas, fueled by tired delirium and perhaps dehydration, are so poor that they do not dare enter the world.
This last idea popped into the head of James, his blue hair practically glowing with excitement, his groggy eyes widening. We cannot be sure if there was any proper reasoning or doubt going through his head before he woke up Jesse, whose facial expression was allegedly akin to Yzmaâs resting one. With excitement, he relayed to her his holy word.
âSo, whenever we attempt to take Pikachu during the day, the twerps end up blasting us into the sky, so what if we sneak up at night?â
Jesse, who had no patience left so late at night, replied,
âWeâve TRIED this before. Our footsteps will wake us up. We canât just minimize themâ
âAh, but thatâs where my genius begins,â James replied, as he pulls out four butterscotch candies from his pocket. With the lamp Jesse turns on, she can see a shimmer.
âŠ
During a previous night, Professor Sycamore and his team had been experimenting. Mega evolution stones are made, like most glass, from molten sand. The sand here, however comes from a magic source, one which we canât pinpoint a location to. His laboratory supposedly got drunk, infused this molten material into butterscotch, and ate one to test the effects of the stone material on humans, since cell growth, and biological improvements, are known to result. However, this sand contains Oganesson-Tetrahydride, which when combined with sugar, compacts cells heavily. This caused the lab intern to shrink to a measly few inches tall, baffling everyone there. After careful examination, he returned to normal in 12 hours. It, as was normal, was written down and the candies were sealed away.
When the lab closed, James and Meowth snuck in and found the candies in a glass jar.
âBottâs Shrinking Butterscotches?â Meowth jested, âWho on Earth would make something like that?â
âI donât know, but itâs in here for a reasonâ James replied.
Reading the lab report attached, they discovered the incident that caused them to be sealed in glass. James decided this would be useful someday, and against Meowthâs judgement, smashed the glass and stole the candies, determined to eventually find a use for them.
âŠ
âThis is by far the stupidest idea youâve ever had. You want to shrink, hide with the gang, and steal Pikachu?â
James, still determined to convince Jesse, said,
âWell, we get Meowth to take him and us once we send him our location. Weâll return to normal in 12 hoursâ. Jesse, while at first conflicted regarding this, reasoned that if they could return to normal, this would be foolproof. As mentioned earlier, all peons lack proper intelligence. Despite being one of the smartest, this general rule combined with her tired mind made a decision.
âWhatever, letâs do itâ.
Jesse and James, prepared for the day at 6 in the morning, each grabbed a shimmering butterscotch.
â3, 2, 1, bon appetitâ
Each popped their candy into their mouths. The taste⊠similar to the smell of a Mac and cheese candle that I found at TJ Maxx once. It took a lot of willpower to finish the dang thing, but they did. And going timing too, because here come the twerps! Ash Ketchum, with his Pikachu on his shoulder, Serena looking at a map on her PokĂ©dex, Clemont tinkering with something a new invention that was already smoking, and Bonnie close behind. Within moments, they quickly started losing size. Once around a quarter of their normal height, they dashed towards Ashâs shoe.
âWhat was that rustling?â Serena asked, looking around with nothing in sight.
âThat was odd⊠probably a passing Pokemonâ Clemont answered, him too doubting his claims.
Meanwhile, Team Rocket, now going from a quarter of their size to a size of a quarter, had snuck onto Ashâs shoe, which was quite the bumpy ride. This was not going to be viable, each step rocking the two to the verge of hurling. Their best bet was the pocket, where they might not be noticed. Quickly, they started attempting to crawl up the boyâs jeans, the rough denim not providing as much grip for their feet as was properly needed, each step nearly sending them flying to oblivion. As his legs moved for a step, so did the two mini-peons. At this point, Ash was behind the others, preventing the three from seeing them, him eating an unidentified snack, unaware of the beginning of the Pikachu heist. Slowly making progress, the shake would cause one to lose some grip, each finger grabbing less, until by the time James got to the pocket. His hands in pain, almost throbbing, he was relieved to crawl inâŠ
Except for his grip being lost. The blue-haired one began sliding against the friction-heavy denim, which generated heat and burned his face. As Jesse looked up, horror filled her eyes. She realized it was over. That they were going to fall and either die or worse: be caught. That in the latter case, their stupid idea, created solely by the incompetent twit who she was paid to call her partner, would be exposed to a bunch of 10 year olds. They could never live this one down. She hoped for the former, to fall and die quickly and painlessly rather than suffer the shame of their greatest failure.
Death, however, can only be so many places at once. The two fell onto the shoe, alerting Ash to the prescence of SOMETHING.
âHold on guys, some things fell on my shoeâ Ash shouted, the three stopping to look. Their curiosity turned into shock
âMore like some PEOPLE!â Bonnie yelled.
Ash quickly figured out what he was seeing, miniature Team Rocket on his shoe, winded from a fall. If looks could kill, Jesse would have killed James, and had she not fallen so hard, she wouldâve choked him. Ash grabbed the two and held them in an open palm, slightly curved to prevent a fall. He remembered a time long ago, in which something similar had happened to him and some other friends. Now, the roles had reversed. The thieves had become the caught.
âAnother attempt to steal Pikachu, huh? How did you do this?â
Jesse, pissed, started shrieking, âTHIS MAN RIGHT HERE STOLE SOME SHRINKING GARBOLIUM CANDIES FROM PROFESSOR SYCAMORE AND CONVINCED US TO SNEAK WITH YOU GUYS AND STEAL YOUR STUPID PIKACHU! I CANâT BELIEVE I AGREED TO THIS!â
She finished by slapping James right across the face, his cheek turning as red as her ears.
âAccording to my research,â Clemont stated in his matter-of-fact like way, âThose candies, made from Mega Evolution stones, compress the atoms and shrink their consumers for around 12 hours. This also makes them immune to most damage.â
âGreatâ, Ash said, âso weâre stuck with the two of you for 12 hours, huh? What do we do with them? I canât just use my pockets, I would need a pouch of some kind where I would know they were safe.â His care of them was somewhat confusing to the two, who had given only one or two cares about Ash the entire time they had been chasing him. But who cares, they have to stay with him for 12 hours! They certainly wonât have a fun time riding on a shoulder or a pocket, but that pouch option doesnât exist.
This pouch option, one that had not been truly thought about, decided to make its self known with a growl. This pouch was none other than the ravenous stomach of Ash Ketchum. Breakfast had been light today, huh? Everyone immediately stared first as the stomach, then at the two miscreants. Jesse and James, confused at first, put the pieces together.
âLike I would EVER allow you to eat me! I will not accept death from YOUR hands!â Jesse yelled.
James reasoned, âBut Clemont said we would be immune to most damage, probably including stomach acidsâ
âShut it, James! You got us into this mess, and youâre digging us deeper!â
But the damage was already done.
âGuys, if you donât want to be killed by some other Pokemon or lost in the wilderness, this is really our only shotâ Serena pleaded. Ashâs face, unlike the others, did not reciprocate this idea.
âIâm not sure I could swallow two mini people whole. They might get stuck.â
âYou basically swallow your food whole every day, it might not be hard. If you need, you could take a drink or something. And besides, itâs for their safetyâ
Ash continued staring, sweating, wondering if he would, could, mentally and physically, be able to swallow two things the size of coins whole. His throat was unprepared for things like that. It would definitely hurt. Then again, they were small. Maybe, just maybe, he could work them down.
âFineâ
Welp, here goes
Team Rocketâs mental preparations were minimal. There isnât much one can do to get ready to be eaten. Itâs not like humans actively swallow each other whole all the time, not in Kalos. There are rumors of such actions occurring underground in Galar, and fight clubs in Kanto often end this way, but these involved the PokĂ©mon doing the consuming due to the size difference making it possible. Even in Galar, everyone involved was over 18.
But here, a human, a prepubescent twit, was going to be swallowing them whole, storing them in their minuscule and insignificant stomach, which had previously never seen anything besides food and dirt. His throat looked way too skinny to carry them down successfully. At the very least, if he was fully willing, there would be a commitment. But he was conflicted, nervous.
Ash, after several deep breaths, slowly opened his mouth. His teeth were somewhat sharp, but had definitely skipped one or two brushings. His gums were relatively healthy. His tongue was a healthy pink, with only a slightly brighter splotch near the back. His short uvula barely dangled over his throat, which looked bigger without tonsils, but wasnât big enough anyway.
He stuck his tongue out for them to crawl onto, a tendril of saliva sticking to it. Jesse and James looked within with fear, but slowly and shakily climbed inside the maw, James being pushed by Jesse so that she didnât have to go first. Jesse climbed in, more grossed out now that her outfit had been ruined by a small pool of twerp spit. Ash slowly rolled his tongue and clamped his jaw shut, encircling the duo in darkness.
Ash quickly decided the best way to go was to swallow one at a time. James was slightly taller, so he decided to gulp him after Jesse so that if he coughed him back out, Jesse would still be in. Pushing James to the cheek, he rolled Jesse to the back of his tongue slowly, being careful to keep James in place and Jesse away from his teeth, which could easily cut her. Saliva was emitted, soaking Jesse in preparation. She folded up slightly, mostly in reaction to her disgust. Finally, he took a deep breath in his nose and gulped hard, sending Jesse into the entrance of the throat. With sharp pangs in his throat, he coughed hard and thumped his chest to continue Jesseâs descent through the esophagus.
Jesse was squeezed very tight, making it hard for her to breathe. Every breath granted her hot, stale air with an acidic bite that slightly hurt her chest. After a climax of squeeze, she fell into a shallow pool of acid face first and then sat against the base of the stomach wall. Despite her memory of acid breaking down cells and being painful, she felt no pain thanks to the compaction of her cells. Lighting an LED lamp in her pocket, she finally saw the detail of the swampy organ she had found herself in. The stomach wrinkles were curvy and artistic, covered in a few tiny white bubbles. Her entire life, she had rejected the idea that beauty was on the inside. Her entire life, she had been praised for her outer beauty. It had been her only gateway out of her life into her current career. Now⊠she still saw it as gross and fleshy. The smell was abysmal, there was no beauty in this.
After Ash had been relieved of most of the pain, he then pushed James to the roof of his mouth. He hadnât taken much time to get a flavor with his last little âsnackâ [the thought creeped him out], so he chose to suck on James to get a flavor.
To his utter shock, James emitted a flavor of cinnamon Pokepuff frosting, releasing platonic pleasure throughout his brain. He wasnât expecting this taste and was sort of weirded out, but the flavor was sweet and he had the desire to savor this moment, to keep this flavor for as long as possible. Unfortunately for him, he had things to do, so he rolled James to the back too and as before took a thick swallow, emitting a loud reverberating wet sound that caused James to emit a yelp from surprise. With the extra saliva from the good flavor, Ash found James much easier to gulp down them Jesse. James also descended, falling on his head. Once Jesse spotted him, her floodgates left the room and a massive amount of rage entered as she chewed his ear off, screaming about how his stupid idea had humiliated them, her handbag and outfit was ruined.
The âtwerpâ gang looked on in horror. Well, all for Clemont, who was looking on curiously and taking notes. He fully intended on asking James and Jesse 300 questions regarding the experience for the rest of the afternoon.
âThis will provide so much information for the world of science, thank you Ash!â He cheered, Ash looking on in annoyance.
âAre you two okay in there?â Ash bent down and asked his own stomach, his question directed to its contents.
âNO! IâM SICK! IâM GOING TO HURL!â Jesse screamed.
âWeâre aliveâ James replied, earning him a death glare from Jesse.
With the combination of the terrible environment, Clemontâs inevitable interviewing, and the rocking from the long walk, the two were going to have a LONG afternoon. They did contact Meowth and let him know, to which he laughed and only obliged to follow after threatening.
One thing was for certain though: with Clemont and the weight and fighting within his guts, Ash was not going to enjoy this afternoon. If only it had been Clemont who had been the predator, he thought.
With the drama over for now, the gang kept journeying towards the next gym, ready for the next Pokémon adventure.
Wild Kratts Vore - The One with Tazzy Chris
This story was inspired by @voreaz , huge HUGE thanks to their blog for inspiring me to get out of my debating head and actually write Wild Kratts vore, something Iâve been considering since before I knew what vore even was. While I am trying to center this around the episode, I apologize if I deviate too far in the parts Iâm not trying to deviate from. Also, continuity doesnât exist until Athena P says it does, so until she drops a lore video, Iâm ignoring it. (Also donât tag her OR the fandom if you reblog this please, Iâm already dying publishing this)
Silence in the night isnât a thing.
Maybe youâre in the city and thereâs cars driving by, or like a small town with the noises of bars, but out in the wilderness, thereâs the best kind of night noise: living creatures. Crickets and cicadas chirping, wolves howling, owls hoo-ing, and other noises. The noises of the wilderness are an active sign of flourishing life, even in the times most are asleep, but for the Kratt Brothers, this was the best time to observe the Tasmanian Devil.
Out in Tasmania, the brothers were on a quest, a great and noble quest, to prove that these creatures werenât actually as scary as people think they are. It was also a chance to help scientists track them, as they are sadly endangered and as such needed to be protected.
Chris was sure to pack only essential tools for tagging. After all, each material was extra weight and as such, only what was necessary should be brought, so while Martin revealing that he only brought a crappy Halloween mask, was surprising, he was calm. Not mad, just kind of surprised.
Aviva took this moment to call them via hologram, eliminating the chance Martin had to explain his thought process or share anything else he brought.
âSimply put the tag on their ear. It doesnât hurt them and allows us to track them!â She told the boys before going back to work on something, whatever it was is unimportant. Now, one canât simply grab an animal and put it on the animal; that would cause them distress and maybe pain. The fly cam was the mouseketool for the job, providing a safe and easy way to tag the devils. Walking towards the noises of these creatures, Martin asked Chris,
âNot to be a scaredy cat, but are you sure we wanna do this?â, either afraid of the dark or the very creatures that he preached to be misunderstood.
âWe have to! T. Devils are disappearing so quickly, and the more we know about them, the more weâll be able to help protect them from becoming extinctâ Chris replied calmly, his patience grounding Martinâs slightly hysteric fears.
What would help this were if one of these T. Devils didnât make a scary shadow via Chrisâ headlamp, but guess what? Martin, while initially afraid, saw the creature making the shadow and the coating of fear was spread away. Martin did though, feel a tickling sensation on his leg and asked Chris accusatorily if this was a good time for a tickle fight.
âIâm not tickling you right nowâ
As it turns out, one of the unaptly-named devils was licking his leg, which frightened Martin into Chrisâ arms. But these devils didnât just create fear, they also ate food. Being scavengers, they found a carcass and began eating, giving Chris ample time to put on a tag via the fly cam. [Watching the episode right now for the sake of exposition and they can chew through BONE?!] Tagging went well.
Now hereâs where things get interesting. While Chris was using the fly cam, a devil came up to him and began observing this large foreign skin monkey that showed up out of nowhere. While Chris was joking about the devil giving him a taste test, what this animal found more appetizing was the creature suit, and took a chomp at it. Sparks and whirring caught Chrisâs attention, who told the animal to be careful as to not cause a creature suit malfunction. But as things go, he jinxed himself and suddenly starting shaking as a green glow engulfed him and he became partially Tasmanian Devil, his brain rewired in a more wild sense. Chris was now half man, half creature. Instantly smelling something good, Tazzy Chris (as he was affectionately referred to by witnesses) ran on all fours for the sake of discovering where this meat was. Martin saw this situation and grabbed Chris by the leg just as his malfunction temporarily ceased, with Chris none the wiser of this incident. Chris walked along, malfunctioned again, and returned to normal just as Martin tried to inform Aviva of the situation, who didnât believe him but started on their way anyway. Chris kept malfunctioning and unmalfuntioning with no knowledge or control.
So this happens, and while theyâre still dealing with this crap take care of the whole Zach thing, because truly, thatâs not whatâs important here. What is important was what happened next [hereâs where we deviate from the episode slightly]
This suit, as it turns out, was not something that could be fixed lickety-split. Rather, it would require being hooked up to a computer and the software deactivated so that the suit could be removed for repair. But it was 4 in the morning and since Chris had some level of control, the Tortuga gang decided to leave the issue until after they got some good nightâs sleep. After all, it would require focus she just didnât have, and Chris was too tired to be helpful. So, the issue was put off. With the lights off and sleeping bags out, everyone got in and got rested for a few hours of sleep for tomorrowâs next adventure.
Sadly, this wasnât going to go too well, and thatâs for one simple reason: Martin had been foolish. If you recall, I mentioned that Aviva had interrupted him before he could share everything else he brought. Now, this thing he brought was the miniaturizer, a glorified shrink ray. It was compact enough to fit in the cargo shorts Martin wore, and was so exhausted from taking care of Chris and Zach that he had forgotten to put it up. So there he was, tightly wound in his sleeping bag with a small device in his back pocket against the ground slightly. All it would take for catastrophe was Martin rolling over slightly and pushing the button into the ground. What do you think happened?
The zapping sound, muffled by the bag, was unheard as Martin was shrunk to a tiny size. Immediately waking up in fear and realizing what had just happened, he thrashed and panicked, trying to find his way out of this sleeping bag so he could get someone to help him with returning to normal size.
Meanwhile, Chris was struggling to sleep, as his Tasmanian form had taken over for a hot minute and was wide awake, being nocturnal. While he did roll to his side and start to close his eyes, from the slit of his vision still showing, he saw movement. Small movement in Martinâs bag. His regular reaction wouldâve been to jump up and investigate, but the rather feral part of his fried brain saw something else in that lump, something that was quite shocking and yet not realized fully quite yet: food. Some small and defenseless creature that could satiate his ravenous hunger after being rejected the carcass he had so badly craved. It was something. Like a cat preparing for a pounce, he just stared at the lump, watching as it got closer and closer to the edge, tripping and struggling all the way. And then, he saw it: a tiny blue thing. It was extremely dark, so much so that the night vision wasnât quite helping him decipher what on earth that was. What was it? A monkey? A mouse? Some poor unfortunate flightless bird, like a damn Kiwi?
It truly didnât matter what it was at this point; it smelled heavenly, like the greatest diner in the state of Oklahoma. It would probably taste even better. Saliva started seeping from his mouth as he started craving whatever the hell that tiny little thing was. Now wouldâve been a great time for the malfunctioning suit to switch back, but poor luck fell upon this poor turtle ship, as it would experience a quite unpleasant incident, one only discovered once the sun rose and the dust settled.
Martin, after much struggles and pushes, tripped out of the sleeping bag and onto the cold, hard floor, his arms catching him just in time to not faceplant. He took a moment to get up and tried to look around, to formulate a plan. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the massive green eyes of his transformed brother, his pupils widened beyond the point that they typically go in dark places. It was something more, Martin recognized. What exactly was triggering this response from Chris wasnât quite clear though. Happiness of seeing his brother? Focus? Hunger? This though, was more analytical thought than Chris was doing.
However much of Chrisâs mind was there within his current state fluctuated, and right now, his mind was more wild than not. There was no thought, just animal instinct for a moment. With an unzipped sleeping bag, Chris lept out of his bag and pounced onto the unidentified creature, keeping it trapped within his hands. He had caught it and was in complete control of its circumstances now. Curiously, he picked it up in between 2 fingers by some sort of cloth. He ignored the fear that had covered Martin in a white, cold sheet and took a deep sniff of his brother. The smell was so strong, and so appetizing that Chris could wait no longer. Well, at least for a moment. Some more of Chris entered his mind, and thankfully this part told the rest that despite his lack of patience, he should be careful in not to harm this creature but rather to just swallow it whole. Such advice was swiftly taken.
Martin had never been more scared. Heâd admit he was a bit of a scaredy cat, was frightened by shadows and the sort, but the fear was always ushered away by rationality and curiousness. This was different, however, in the sense that this was, at least to him, a real threat. He had no control over the situation, no rationality to lean on. For heavenâs sakes, his own brother was treating him as some sort of creature, a mouse, and not as his own flesh and blood brother, his lifelong friend.
Now if he thought that was bad, the lifting up above the head slow opening of Chrisâ jaw to reveal his eager and awaiting maw sent a cold shiver down his spine and terminated any hope that this would be easily resolved. The sight was out of a nightmare. The teeth looked sharper and werenât much of a pleasant invitation. The pink and squishy tongue covered with a veneer of saliva and lowered somewhat in preparation for his presence, for its next meal. At the very least his throat was healthy, flexing somewhat in anticipation for this event, and his teeth were white. The mouth of his brother was human, and yet in a way, more animal, more carnivorous.
The furred fingers gripping his shirt released, and he yelped as he landed face first into a pool of saliva and onto the squishy tongue. Quickly after, Chrisâs teeth clicked shut and he was trapped. The tongue pressed up, pinning Martin against the roof and rolled him around with itself, tasting him, savoring him even, like a candy. Martin, evidently, tasted phenomenal, and he wondered if Jimmy ever felt the euphoria his brother was feeling. It wasnât like that blue whale mouth he was in, as that was bigger and the tongue didnât do all this. But his thoughts once again skimpered off in fear to the bunker in the back of his mind with their families in tow as Martin once again lost rationality and Chris moved Martin about the mouth, covering him in hot and slightly sticky saliva. I mean, it was NASTY, but in a way, to Martin, it was cool enough. Heâd washed worse off of his clothes. Now that he was lathered and in place, the back of the tongue lowered and Chris slightly tilted his head back, allowing gravity to move his brother into his throat. Martin could only scream as he rolled into the back of the throat, and with Chris taking a deep swallow, he was forced into the throat. It took another swallow to get him far enough down for peristalsis to take over for him.
Chris put a finger on his throat to feel the irregular shape of the creature inside him, being tugged deeper and deeper. It was wonderful. This was unlike anything else he had ever done. The feral-ish (have to be careful using that word) part of his malfunctioning mind acting on its urges and following its basic instinct to consume, he felt satisfied at a good meal. Once the morsel that he usually called his brother disappeared beneath the collarbone, he laid back down on his sleeping bag as he felt the drop of Martin falling into his stomach.
It was an unceremoniously plop, really, as Chris didnât catch himself and landed square on his head and fell backward onto his, well, back. It was indeed a stomach, humid as all hell, with wrinkles everywhere and a clear bile at the bottom that was really just a puddle. As far as sight was concerned, there was none, but as for smell, hoo boy. It was the smell of spoiled food of meals past, of bacteriaâs chemicals. Truly, it was rank. Heâd rather be back in the mouth of that grouper he saved the pufferfish from. The natural reaction to being eaten alive is usually fear, panic, sadness, etc, and while for a time this is how Martin felt, it was overcome by curiousness before long. He started recording with his creaturepad, marveling at the stomach walls moving and churning him around this moist environment, similar in a way to the swamps theyâd been in in Florida while looking for crocodiles. The way the body worked was fascinating and his mind raced, taking notes of the process. How the mouth had soaked him and the muscles of the mouth joined with the throat to swallow him, how said throat had worked to swiftly move him down here, and how the stomach responded to his presence. It was a good thing, him being distracted from his circumstances, how he was trapped in an organ usually filled with acids that would break him down into nutrients to fuel the body.
But that was peculiar, how they were just not there, something Martin picked up on after feeling the mucus on the stomach wall protecting it from self-destructing. Why on Earth werenât digestive enzymes present? He was grateful they werenât here so he wasnât in danger, but still, perplexing, no? The space without said threat was relaxing in a way, the heat and limited bile working to soothe his weary body and tired mind, to sort of whirl him to sleep. While he was laying against the wall, he was fighting to stay awake, but ultimately, he lost the battle and dozed off to unconsciousness.
Hours passed, and as the sun rose, Chris had fallen asleep, but Aviva had woken up, had already hooked his suit up to her computer so that she could patch the code and allow Chris to be free from his creature power suit. She knew that T. Devils were nocturnal and Chris too by extension, so she wouldnât be pressed for time to do it before Chrisâs suit glitched again and he went off to do something. This was barely an inconvenience this way.
When Chris finally rose, his suit had been removed and was back to normal, oblivious to the events that had transpired just hours ago. He took a look at Martinâs sleeping bag and found it empty, save for the miniaturizer. It looked like it had gone off. This was worrying: if Martin had shrunken in the night, where was he now? Then, he heard a peculiar sound from his core. A sound unlike the heartbeats and gurgles that were standard, it was almost . . . Snoring?
Peculiar, but it couldnât be what he thought. He should just call Martin, ask him where he was. When he dialed Martin, he could hear his ringtone coming from-
His suspicions were true. He theorized that his tazzy form had seen Martin shrunken and decided he was prey, catching him and swallowing him whole. But there werenât any acids present, thankfully, so Martin had unintentionally fallen asleep. He didnât blame him: it had been a LONG night, so he needed some rest. Chris chose not to inform the others of his discovery, but rather to talk a morning walk. Once Martin woke up, Chris would release him. Theyâd tell the others that he had had a run in with a hungry devil, but not which hungry devil. Then, theyâd wait until night to tag more of the devils. But until then (and until Aviva and Koki inevitably found out the truth and lectured them), it would just be an alone nature walk, but with Martin, not truly alone.
Reblogging since I posted this 12 hours earlier than I usually post my stories, mightâve gotten lost in the shuffle lol
Wild Kratts Vore - The One with Tazzy Chris
This story was inspired by @voreaz , huge HUGE thanks to their blog for inspiring me to get out of my debating head and actually write Wild Kratts vore, something Iâve been considering since before I knew what vore even was. While I am trying to center this around the episode, I apologize if I deviate too far in the parts Iâm not trying to deviate from. Also, continuity doesnât exist until Athena P says it does, so until she drops a lore video, Iâm ignoring it. (Also donât tag her OR the fandom if you reblog this please, Iâm already dying publishing this)
Silence in the night isnât a thing.
Maybe youâre in the city and thereâs cars driving by, or like a small town with the noises of bars, but out in the wilderness, thereâs the best kind of night noise: living creatures. Crickets and cicadas chirping, wolves howling, owls hoo-ing, and other noises. The noises of the wilderness are an active sign of flourishing life, even in the times most are asleep, but for the Kratt Brothers, this was the best time to observe the Tasmanian Devil.
Out in Tasmania, the brothers were on a quest, a great and noble quest, to prove that these creatures werenât actually as scary as people think they are. It was also a chance to help scientists track them, as they are sadly endangered and as such needed to be protected.
Chris was sure to pack only essential tools for tagging. After all, each material was extra weight and as such, only what was necessary should be brought, so while Martin revealing that he only brought a crappy Halloween mask, was surprising, he was calm. Not mad, just kind of surprised.
Aviva took this moment to call them via hologram, eliminating the chance Martin had to explain his thought process or share anything else he brought.
âSimply put the tag on their ear. It doesnât hurt them and allows us to track them!â She told the boys before going back to work on something, whatever it was is unimportant. Now, one canât simply grab an animal and put it on the animal; that would cause them distress and maybe pain. The fly cam was the mouseketool for the job, providing a safe and easy way to tag the devils. Walking towards the noises of these creatures, Martin asked Chris,
âNot to be a scaredy cat, but are you sure we wanna do this?â, either afraid of the dark or the very creatures that he preached to be misunderstood.
âWe have to! T. Devils are disappearing so quickly, and the more we know about them, the more weâll be able to help protect them from becoming extinctâ Chris replied calmly, his patience grounding Martinâs slightly hysteric fears.
What would help this were if one of these T. Devils didnât make a scary shadow via Chrisâ headlamp, but guess what? Martin, while initially afraid, saw the creature making the shadow and the coating of fear was spread away. Martin did though, feel a tickling sensation on his leg and asked Chris accusatorily if this was a good time for a tickle fight.
âIâm not tickling you right nowâ
As it turns out, one of the unaptly-named devils was licking his leg, which frightened Martin into Chrisâ arms. But these devils didnât just create fear, they also ate food. Being scavengers, they found a carcass and began eating, giving Chris ample time to put on a tag via the fly cam. [Watching the episode right now for the sake of exposition and they can chew through BONE?!] Tagging went well.
Now hereâs where things get interesting. While Chris was using the fly cam, a devil came up to him and began observing this large foreign skin monkey that showed up out of nowhere. While Chris was joking about the devil giving him a taste test, what this animal found more appetizing was the creature suit, and took a chomp at it. Sparks and whirring caught Chrisâs attention, who told the animal to be careful as to not cause a creature suit malfunction. But as things go, he jinxed himself and suddenly starting shaking as a green glow engulfed him and he became partially Tasmanian Devil, his brain rewired in a more wild sense. Chris was now half man, half creature. Instantly smelling something good, Tazzy Chris (as he was affectionately referred to by witnesses) ran on all fours for the sake of discovering where this meat was. Martin saw this situation and grabbed Chris by the leg just as his malfunction temporarily ceased, with Chris none the wiser of this incident. Chris walked along, malfunctioned again, and returned to normal just as Martin tried to inform Aviva of the situation, who didnât believe him but started on their way anyway. Chris kept malfunctioning and unmalfuntioning with no knowledge or control.
So this happens, and while theyâre still dealing with this crap take care of the whole Zach thing, because truly, thatâs not whatâs important here. What is important was what happened next [hereâs where we deviate from the episode slightly]
This suit, as it turns out, was not something that could be fixed lickety-split. Rather, it would require being hooked up to a computer and the software deactivated so that the suit could be removed for repair. But it was 4 in the morning and since Chris had some level of control, the Tortuga gang decided to leave the issue until after they got some good nightâs sleep. After all, it would require focus she just didnât have, and Chris was too tired to be helpful. So, the issue was put off. With the lights off and sleeping bags out, everyone got in and got rested for a few hours of sleep for tomorrowâs next adventure.
Sadly, this wasnât going to go too well, and thatâs for one simple reason: Martin had been foolish. If you recall, I mentioned that Aviva had interrupted him before he could share everything else he brought. Now, this thing he brought was the miniaturizer, a glorified shrink ray. It was compact enough to fit in the cargo shorts Martin wore, and was so exhausted from taking care of Chris and Zach that he had forgotten to put it up. So there he was, tightly wound in his sleeping bag with a small device in his back pocket against the ground slightly. All it would take for catastrophe was Martin rolling over slightly and pushing the button into the ground. What do you think happened?
The zapping sound, muffled by the bag, was unheard as Martin was shrunk to a tiny size. Immediately waking up in fear and realizing what had just happened, he thrashed and panicked, trying to find his way out of this sleeping bag so he could get someone to help him with returning to normal size.
Meanwhile, Chris was struggling to sleep, as his Tasmanian form had taken over for a hot minute and was wide awake, being nocturnal. While he did roll to his side and start to close his eyes, from the slit of his vision still showing, he saw movement. Small movement in Martinâs bag. His regular reaction wouldâve been to jump up and investigate, but the rather feral part of his fried brain saw something else in that lump, something that was quite shocking and yet not realized fully quite yet: food. Some small and defenseless creature that could satiate his ravenous hunger after being rejected the carcass he had so badly craved. It was something. Like a cat preparing for a pounce, he just stared at the lump, watching as it got closer and closer to the edge, tripping and struggling all the way. And then, he saw it: a tiny blue thing. It was extremely dark, so much so that the night vision wasnât quite helping him decipher what on earth that was. What was it? A monkey? A mouse? Some poor unfortunate flightless bird, like a damn Kiwi?
It truly didnât matter what it was at this point; it smelled heavenly, like the greatest diner in the state of Oklahoma. It would probably taste even better. Saliva started seeping from his mouth as he started craving whatever the hell that tiny little thing was. Now wouldâve been a great time for the malfunctioning suit to switch back, but poor luck fell upon this poor turtle ship, as it would experience a quite unpleasant incident, one only discovered once the sun rose and the dust settled.
Martin, after much struggles and pushes, tripped out of the sleeping bag and onto the cold, hard floor, his arms catching him just in time to not faceplant. He took a moment to get up and tried to look around, to formulate a plan. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the massive green eyes of his transformed brother, his pupils widened beyond the point that they typically go in dark places. It was something more, Martin recognized. What exactly was triggering this response from Chris wasnât quite clear though. Happiness of seeing his brother? Focus? Hunger? This though, was more analytical thought than Chris was doing.
However much of Chrisâs mind was there within his current state fluctuated, and right now, his mind was more wild than not. There was no thought, just animal instinct for a moment. With an unzipped sleeping bag, Chris lept out of his bag and pounced onto the unidentified creature, keeping it trapped within his hands. He had caught it and was in complete control of its circumstances now. Curiously, he picked it up in between 2 fingers by some sort of cloth. He ignored the fear that had covered Martin in a white, cold sheet and took a deep sniff of his brother. The smell was so strong, and so appetizing that Chris could wait no longer. Well, at least for a moment. Some more of Chris entered his mind, and thankfully this part told the rest that despite his lack of patience, he should be careful in not to harm this creature but rather to just swallow it whole. Such advice was swiftly taken.
Martin had never been more scared. Heâd admit he was a bit of a scaredy cat, was frightened by shadows and the sort, but the fear was always ushered away by rationality and curiousness. This was different, however, in the sense that this was, at least to him, a real threat. He had no control over the situation, no rationality to lean on. For heavenâs sakes, his own brother was treating him as some sort of creature, a mouse, and not as his own flesh and blood brother, his lifelong friend.
Now if he thought that was bad, the lifting up above the head slow opening of Chrisâ jaw to reveal his eager and awaiting maw sent a cold shiver down his spine and terminated any hope that this would be easily resolved. The sight was out of a nightmare. The teeth looked sharper and werenât much of a pleasant invitation. The pink and squishy tongue covered with a veneer of saliva and lowered somewhat in preparation for his presence, for its next meal. At the very least his throat was healthy, flexing somewhat in anticipation for this event, and his teeth were white. The mouth of his brother was human, and yet in a way, more animal, more carnivorous.
The furred fingers gripping his shirt released, and he yelped as he landed face first into a pool of saliva and onto the squishy tongue. Quickly after, Chrisâs teeth clicked shut and he was trapped. The tongue pressed up, pinning Martin against the roof and rolled him around with itself, tasting him, savoring him even, like a candy. Martin, evidently, tasted phenomenal, and he wondered if Jimmy ever felt the euphoria his brother was feeling. It wasnât like that blue whale mouth he was in, as that was bigger and the tongue didnât do all this. But his thoughts once again skimpered off in fear to the bunker in the back of his mind with their families in tow as Martin once again lost rationality and Chris moved Martin about the mouth, covering him in hot and slightly sticky saliva. I mean, it was NASTY, but in a way, to Martin, it was cool enough. Heâd washed worse off of his clothes. Now that he was lathered and in place, the back of the tongue lowered and Chris slightly tilted his head back, allowing gravity to move his brother into his throat. Martin could only scream as he rolled into the back of the throat, and with Chris taking a deep swallow, he was forced into the throat. It took another swallow to get him far enough down for peristalsis to take over for him.
Chris put a finger on his throat to feel the irregular shape of the creature inside him, being tugged deeper and deeper. It was wonderful. This was unlike anything else he had ever done. The feral-ish (have to be careful using that word) part of his malfunctioning mind acting on its urges and following its basic instinct to consume, he felt satisfied at a good meal. Once the morsel that he usually called his brother disappeared beneath the collarbone, he laid back down on his sleeping bag as he felt the drop of Martin falling into his stomach.
It was an unceremoniously plop, really, as Chris didnât catch himself and landed square on his head and fell backward onto his, well, back. It was indeed a stomach, humid as all hell, with wrinkles everywhere and a clear bile at the bottom that was really just a puddle. As far as sight was concerned, there was none, but as for smell, hoo boy. It was the smell of spoiled food of meals past, of bacteriaâs chemicals. Truly, it was rank. Heâd rather be back in the mouth of that grouper he saved the pufferfish from. The natural reaction to being eaten alive is usually fear, panic, sadness, etc, and while for a time this is how Martin felt, it was overcome by curiousness before long. He started recording with his creaturepad, marveling at the stomach walls moving and churning him around this moist environment, similar in a way to the swamps theyâd been in in Florida while looking for crocodiles. The way the body worked was fascinating and his mind raced, taking notes of the process. How the mouth had soaked him and the muscles of the mouth joined with the throat to swallow him, how said throat had worked to swiftly move him down here, and how the stomach responded to his presence. It was a good thing, him being distracted from his circumstances, how he was trapped in an organ usually filled with acids that would break him down into nutrients to fuel the body.
But that was peculiar, how they were just not there, something Martin picked up on after feeling the mucus on the stomach wall protecting it from self-destructing. Why on Earth werenât digestive enzymes present? He was grateful they werenât here so he wasnât in danger, but still, perplexing, no? The space without said threat was relaxing in a way, the heat and limited bile working to soothe his weary body and tired mind, to sort of whirl him to sleep. While he was laying against the wall, he was fighting to stay awake, but ultimately, he lost the battle and dozed off to unconsciousness.
Hours passed, and as the sun rose, Chris had fallen asleep, but Aviva had woken up, had already hooked his suit up to her computer so that she could patch the code and allow Chris to be free from his creature power suit. She knew that T. Devils were nocturnal and Chris too by extension, so she wouldnât be pressed for time to do it before Chrisâs suit glitched again and he went off to do something. This was barely an inconvenience this way.
When Chris finally rose, his suit had been removed and was back to normal, oblivious to the events that had transpired just hours ago. He took a look at Martinâs sleeping bag and found it empty, save for the miniaturizer. It looked like it had gone off. This was worrying: if Martin had shrunken in the night, where was he now? Then, he heard a peculiar sound from his core. A sound unlike the heartbeats and gurgles that were standard, it was almost . . . Snoring?
Peculiar, but it couldnât be what he thought. He should just call Martin, ask him where he was. When he dialed Martin, he could hear his ringtone coming from-
His suspicions were true. He theorized that his tazzy form had seen Martin shrunken and decided he was prey, catching him and swallowing him whole. But there werenât any acids present, thankfully, so Martin had unintentionally fallen asleep. He didnât blame him: it had been a LONG night, so he needed some rest. Chris chose not to inform the others of his discovery, but rather to talk a morning walk. Once Martin woke up, Chris would release him. Theyâd tell the others that he had had a run in with a hungry devil, but not which hungry devil. Then, theyâd wait until night to tag more of the devils. But until then (and until Aviva and Koki inevitably found out the truth and lectured them), it would just be an alone nature walk, but with Martin, not truly alone.
Iâm always open for story requests if anyoneâs wanting a story. Iâve got I believe 2 remaining story ideas from my original list I made in February, and will be formulating more once I run out, but requests are what introduced me to TF2, so Iâm always willing to do research into making a good story.
Ladies and gentlemen, theys and gays, Iâve got something splendid for you all today. Itâs time for:
tefifonconnoisseurâs OC dump!
Disclaimer: I went through a deep dive for OCs Iâve created since 2021, and every drawing after the first was before my drawing class and thus around 2021-22, since I didnât draw much last year, and what I did was just OC doodles.
All characters work for the DDB, a news company that reports on either the most nothing news or almost gets themselves killed, with very little in between.
If you want more info on any of this, feel free to ask either on my page or in the comments.
I do touch on vore throughout, but mostly roles and a brief thing about it at the end. This is mostly G/T centric though
All is below the cut for the sake of not filling your feed. Please donât use my OCs without my permission.
Aristotle Buttermilk
Age: 18
Position at DDB: Reporter
Status: Prey
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: AroAce
Misc.: Autistic, prefers peace, enjoys classical music and any music considered âgayâ
Carlene Fernsby
Age: 43
Position at DDB: CEO
Status: Wants nothing to do with vore, prey if you enjoy pain
Pronouns: She/Her
Sexuality: Straight
Misc: Prone to violence and Karen behavior, guards Aristotle from himself and is his protector. Carlene hates Francine but hasnât had reason to fire her yet
Mildred Everlove
Age: 65
Position at DDB: Sound Designer and Composer
Status: Prey
Pronouns: She/Her
Sexuality: Lesbian
Misc: Her soulmate, Chloe, passed tragically in 1989 and thus she hasnât been in the dating scene much since, plays Matilda Brunswick in âTitans of Philadelphiaâ (see more below). Sheâs a grandmotherly figure and caring, but not to those who hurt those she loves
Francine and Charlie Dill
Age: 28
Position at DDB: Francine is a secretary, Charlie runs HR
Status: Switch
Pronouns: Jeanne goes by she/her, Charlie by he/him
Misc: As you could guess, twins. Charlie went to college while Francine served time in the military before coming back and becoming a secretary. Charlie is a perfectionist and takes complaints seriously, while Francine is more laid-back and carefree, except not really since sheâs more Karen then Carlene.
Mr. President
Age: 222
Position at DDB: President
Status: Switch
Pronouns: They/Them (Mr. Is gender-neutral)
Sexuality: Unknown
Misc: nobody knows where he came from, he just said he was the president and everyone just accepted it. He could be a god, but nobody really bothers to ask. He is actually nice weirdly enough, but nobody talks to him so nobody actually knows
Pelvis Resley
Age: 37
Position at DDB: Heâs supposed to be running IT, but he probably leaves the IT staff to fend for themselves and goes to do shows
Status: Pred
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Home Depot membership card levels of straight
Misc: He does Elvis impressions and tries to get any woman breathing in his general vicinity. He wouldâve been fired if Mr. President didnât find him too funny. His personality shifts depending on how well his previous nightâs show went, but nobody likes him.
Le Cube
Age: 39
Position at DDB: Cook
Status: Pred
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Bi
Misc: Basically Pelvis but with more charisma and nice all the time. He prefers not to perform but rather to record jazz music.
The Selenites
Age: Theyâre a species, range is 0-98 usually
Position at DDB: They ruin everything
Status: Usually Preds
Misc: Theyâre basically the ones from âA Trip To The Moonâ, just with my take. Theyâre aliens that occasionally show up at DDB and just wreck everything. They are 65 feet tall and they hate Mr. President, but can never get him. They are the villains of this universe.
Other basic world information:
Akin to the OCs of other vore enjoyers who wonât be named, the DDB sorta just enter other realities (fandoms) whenever they want, no explanation
The company is located in a small Midwestern town in the middle of nowhere
Shrinking tech and growing tech was perfected in 199X and the DDBâs guys keep the secrets under wraps, but not well since when things happen, EVERYONE KNOWS
Giants do exist; they live separately following the human-giant war of 1933
Due to the rules of dimensional scaling being nonexistent, the DDB crew are tiny in certain worlds but not others.
Giants are 60 years ahead of humans
Mildred Everlove has performed a show in a stomach before.
The âTitans of Philadelphiaâ movie centers around Matilda Brunswick and her apprentice Alfonso who assist in the human-giant war of 1933. She uses a 1905 Oldsmobile with plasma guns attached for combat. After being eaten by a giant teen, Skip, and freed, they team up with him to defeat the big bad dictator Kristopher. It was released in 1989 and became a cult classic when released on VHS in early 1990.
Stomachs only work when the owner of that stomach wants it to
Iâm not exactly at a good time to repost my Movie Sonic vore story from Wattpad, but I will once I get time today.
Also, just for my constructive criticism and improvement, why do you all love the Peanut Butter Toast incident so much?
The Atom Meister Saga - Movie Sonic Vore Story
This was originally posted in 5 parts to Wattpad from May 28th to June 5th of 2024. One special part of this release is that Iâm restoring a cut line that Wattpad didnât like and it took an entire week to figure out. It was rewritten several times in between fixing that. While I had thought I had lost the line, I realized that it had only been edited out of the Wattpad editor and not the original document, so it was preserved.
This contains safe, soft, semi-willing vore of Movie Sonic, who is a minor. If thatâs a problem, please scroll past. Anyways, enjoy! Or donât, just please donât turn me into a human candle.
Morning in the Wachowski household: stressful speed on the borderline of uncontrollable chaos. Just waking up Knuckles brings risk of a broken nose. Every dynamic of the children: Sonicâs teenage spirit, Tailsâs cautiousness and curiosity, and Knucklesâs warrior instinct makes for an interesting combination, one Tom and Maddie, while they love it, would admit itâs quite stressful. This morning, though, while as typical as normal, was the start of an⊠eventful day.
While the humans in the home were getting ready for work, breakfast begins. The following is a list of the people at the table and their behaviors: Tom was eating, though not at the table because heâs cleaning up some new debris found under the couch from Knucklesâs arrival, Maddie was eating while typing a document, our friend Sonic was eating as fast as possible in order to start his day, Tails was taking detailed notes on the scenery outside, and Knuckles⊠oh Knuckles. He was busy treating each piece of cereal like an opponent to be vanquished in a quick battle loudly, then eating it. Each. Individual. Piece. It was quite the spectacle.
When asked about this, he claimed heâs âpracticingâ for his next great battle, someone completely in character for him. A warrior first and friend second, he remains prepared for his next great adventure. An adventure that despite the short time heâs had to take a break, was an inevitability. An adventure that probably wouldnât contain tiny warriors as his practice method would imply. Would it have, though, if the Echidnas had still been battling others? We canât say for certain if any if how many people had gone through his system (reminder: they donât have stomachs).
As Maddie left for work, Sonic prepared himself for a morning out with Tom before he goes to do something important that afternoon (we arenât cleared to know what). Just the two of them, father and son, out exploring Green Hills. It had been a minute since they had had the opportunity with Tails and Knuckles having their time with Tom, adjusting to their new life in Green Hills. The two newer members of the household hadnât been on Earth for 13 years and required some time to settle in and make themselves home (more Tails than Knuckles). However, now that it had been a moment since Robotnikâs second defeat and disappearance, Sonic was restless, ready to explore the world. Unfortunately, at the moment, G.U.N. still required them to stay in Green Hill, so thatâs what they could do.
âSo when we heading out?â Sonic asked Tom. Tom was currently cleaning up a spill from the ground.
âWhenever I get done cleaningâ Tom replies. Heâs been up since 6 in the morning cleaning up some of the remnants from the battle that had taken place in the house. Itâs quite the task. The hole in the wall is covered in tarp in a vain attempt at insulating. Scraps of glass still hide under some of the furniture, usually discovered the hard way with some of it impaling into a hand. Despite this, though, the house remains mostly clean thanks to hard work.
So while Tom is busy cleaning, Sonic has to kill the time. His item of interest? The machine Tails has been working on in the backyard.
âWhatcha got here, buddy?â Sonic inquired of his fox buddy, whoâs busy welding two panels together at a 90° angle, seemingly to make a box.
âWell, itâs a prototype of some atom reduction technology I was working on before I had to restart once I came here to help you. Basically, it uses Oganesson-Tetrahydride to reduce the size in each individual atom rapidly to its minimum possible sizeâ Tails replied.
âDunno what that means, but it sounds cool!â Sonic said, confused from the big words that mean nothing to him.
âItâs basically a shrink rayâ Tails replied, less enthusiastically but still in a positive tone.
âWoah awesome! Itâs just like âHoney, I Shrunk the Kids!â
âYes, but hopefully I donât end up shrinking anyone. I just plan on shrinking objects for ease of transport. â Tails responded. Sonic showed him the movie recently, although he didnât care for it nearly as much as its sequel with completely different actors, âHoney, I Shrunk Ourselvesâ, much to the dismay of Sonic.
âWhat would it do to a person though?â Sonic curiously thought aloud.
âThanks to its technology, they would have increased strength and resilience to withstand forces harming it, although not enough to withstand the force of the average person, so it wouldnât end well unless they could be restoredâ.
âCooooooolâ, Sonic said. He wants to ask if he could perhaps help test it, be involved in something so futuristic. But he knows that the only thing Tails would let him do is watch, which was basically denial but letting him off easy. So he doesnât bother. Instead, he goes to find Knuckles on a hill somewhat far from the house, chopping wood in half.
âWhatcha doing here, Knux?â Sonic asked in a similar way to the way he asked Tails about his invention.
âChopping these logs with my hands so that I donât lose the strength during battle. It is merely a warmup for my morning routineâ
âWorried youâre gonna tire yourself out?â Sonic wondered, somewhat concerned but not really.
âAn echidna is never tiredâ Knuckles replied. He is most likely not exaggerating, Sonic thinks. He sat and watched Knuckles chop away, knowing full well that Knuckles would have perfect timing and precision each time. It was somewhat relaxing in a way, the sheer perfection he presented in each chop. It was akin to a chefâs perfect slicing of an onion and syncopated depositing into a pot of a soup, done with precision that many regular mortals aspire to achieve just once in their lives.
But the thing about relaxation is that it is easily interrupted, as a helicopter hovered by the house, with masked men attempting to hook the shrink ray up to it. The boys rushed over to fight off the baddies, with Tom outside, looking at the baddies in frustration.
âSCPD, HANDS UP!â He said, holding up a taser. A taser, by the way, that he had forgotten to charge.
Due to the sheer number of baddies, Sonic and Knuckles are unable to get to the house before they lift the machine, but not just that. They grab Tom and drag him into the chopper door. Tails had not been seized, but he was on the ground, the wind knocked out of him.
Sonic jumps into action. âYou guys catch up. Iâm going to stay with the chopper, and Tails, you track me and head this way in that ATVâ. With that, Sonic dashed toward the helicopter.
The ATV, though, sitting on the side of the house was older and hadnât been run in a minute, so it would take the other two boys a minute to get it to fire. But nevermind that, we need to focus on Sonic. Sonic stayed behind the chopper, following it through the bushy forest, not going directly below it for fear of being spotted. He weaves narrowly between trees when one was coming up, sometimes being whacked with a twig or two. He made his way next to the freeway after a minute, and followed for about 15 minutes until the helicopter began to land at a helipad, at which point he took cover. And where was he at exactly? Disruption Corporation.
Ah yes, Disruption Corporation: A monopoly known for filth and chaos. They've purchased about every terrible company you can think of: Zonophone, Shell, some remnants of Standard Oil, etc etc. They also have some more relevant lore which we'll go over really quick.
Doctor Robotnik, who technically never existed according to the government, was a man who was despised by his coworkers. They knew of his power-hungry mindset and the motives behind his work. Despite this, for most of his insane antics, his bosses funded his every move. When he was working on a mind-control laser? Tax payer money. The robots and the trucks and most of his cool gadgets? Also given to him from taxpayer money. It's not like they did nothing about it; they complained to HR, the higher-ups, anyone with authority to get rid of him. Sadly, their pleas fell on deaf ears.
This was up until he was chosen to investigate a massive EMP that wiped the Northeast US power grid of all of its energy despite his lack of qualification and the complaints of his associates. Robotnik received some funding, but when he discovered Sonic's leftover quill and wanted to explore its power, he was refused funding. See, his assignment was to find out what caused the EMP, not to harvest quill power. That would be a job that the powers above him would dive into for the purpose of renewable energy. They knew that if he received that funding, the quill was his, not theirs. That would be an investment they wouldn't make back. With a lack of funding, he couldn't do whatever he wish, which infuriated him. Luckily, his employee Agent Stone had some connections to help him cause disruption. Yes indeed, Robotnik's entire manhunt for Sonic's power was propelled by Disruption Corporation. All of the antics with the robots on the highway, that cool-ass jet, his analyzers and cracking of Sonic's code? Received the stamp of approval from DC.
Now, you are allowed to forget all of that. It truly doesn't matter. Neither parties know each other, really. DC never got any status updates of Sonic, and Sonic has no reason to know about them either. The question really, is-
"What do they want with that shrink ray?"
As Sonic was behind the dumpster, watching the helicopter sit there, he had to wonder what was going on behind the scenes. There must be a reason for this. And why did they grab Tom and not Tails, its actual inventor? All were good questions, but none mattered at the moment because Sonic was now paying closer attention as the masked men got out and took a handcuffed Tom with them into a door with a passcode lock. As soon as the coast was clear, Sonic dashed over to the door. The passcode had 9 different numbers. So many different combinations, what could it be? Kicking the door was right out; solid steel 6 inches thick. What was one to do?
As Sonic stared at the buttons, a very faint detail came to him that perhaps wasn't that important: the first 5 numbers were slightly faded. He tried 25431, nope. 45123, nah. 34521, also no. Peculiar. You wouldn't think...
"Aha!" Sonic shouted as the door opened. Indeed, the passcode was 12345, the kind of passcode an idiot would have on their luggage. He wondered why a massive building with malicious intent would have such an easy passcode? Did they want people to come in?
The sight of 6 armed men facing him with guns raised answered that last question for him. Indeed, it was a setup. The door was heavily guarded from the inside and that's where the soldiers all wait out at: the reception area. Immediately, someone shot first. Sonic dashed to the right, narrowly missing the bullet fired and kicking the shortest guard square in the ankles. The fall managed to knock him out. Despite all of the shots fired, Sonic managed to outrun them all. For the second guard, a spin dash knocked 3 in a line over like bowling pins. The last two, though, would be harder to deal with. They were also somewhat quick, managing to avoid Sonic's attacks. A punch here, a shot there, some kicks were exchanged too. As is the issue with guns, though, the ammo eventually ran out. The moment it took them to realize that was enough for Sonic to push them into the open elevator shaft, sending them falling, falling, falling until they were out of view.
Now that the assault had been vanquished, he took just a moment to look around. We weren't kidding when we said reception area. It was literally a hospital reception area, with an elderly woman with glasses doubling as a pearl necklace sitting there.
"Excuse me, miss, but would you happened to have seen a man in a leather jacket with handcuffs pass by here?"
We aren't sure what the woman was thinking, but her response indicated that she didn't see him as a threat, despite the carnage that just occurred.
"Well dear, they took him to the lab, last door on the right."
Sonic took her directions as a sign and went down the hallway to said door. Sadly, it wouldn't be so easy, as she forgot to mention the massive mirror maze inside this room. As he made his way through, twisting around bends and down halls, he realized with a massive bop on his nose from a wall that he's have to take his time here. Every bend he thought was safe ended up with a dead end, and some more dubious-looking paths were just fine.
Bop, dash, bop, dash, dash, bop.
After an excruciating trip, he made it to the lab, where Tom was sitting on a stool.
"Tom!" Sonic yelled, attracting the attention of every doctor in there, including a large man in a black lab coat and white leather gloves. His eyes were small and blue, his hair covered by a black felt fedora, his legs short and thick but his core thicker and taller.
"Well well well, if it isn't the blue furry son of the leather man! I'm glad you're here; you're about to witness my new invention!"
It was Tails's machine. The panels on the large aluminum box hadn't been filled in, it still had Tails's bag on the neck of the laser bit that looked as cartoonish as you think it did. He didn't even try to make it different.
"Hey, that's not yours! It's my friend's!" This was reciprocated with a slap so hard, it sent him onto the ground.
"Way to ruin my fun, jerkwagon. Fine, I found this machine via drone footage, and I knew I had to have it. I sent my boys to grab it and its inventor, although they seem to have grabbed the human instead of the fox, because they're imbeciles. At least they got the machine. Speaking of, look at it! So shiny, so avant-garde (it was not), so... unfinished. I'll call it "Mr. Atomizer", like my Mr. Coffee. In fact, it's inspired my new name, the Atom Meister! Speaking of atoms, this "Tom" fellow, who I didn't want but I guess we get anyway, will have his reduced to a miniature size, shrinking him too. Have fun!"
"No!" Sonic yelled. Sadly, he was restrained by two of the bulking men who grabbed Tom with the aid of muscles. He started kicking, but his low-power charge was no match for these guys. His eyes started to turn electric blue as he charged his power, but too little too late.
"Once I pull this lever, he will be my tiny little experiment to deal with as I choose. The question is what all can I do with him? We'll figure it out momentarily."
"You can't! I need him!"
As if the Atom Meister would care. It was too late; the machine was too exciting for him not to deal with. With the click of a light switch and a giggle, a loud humming sound echoed onto the walls and bounced everywhere. Sonic could only look at Tom momentarily as all went white and then all went black.
As Sonic flicked his eyes open, he saw sideways concrete. No, that canât be right. It wasnât; he was laying on concrete. He had been locked up in a little jail cell, with a door and wooden bench hooked to the wall by chains and everything. The ceiling had growths of moss, and the entire place was bitter and cold. Not as bitter as what he was about to be served, though, as right outside of his cell he saw none other than Tom, but Sonicâs worst nightmare had come true: he was in a tupperware with tiny holes poked in the top like an insect captured by a curious child. Sonic then processed the situation; he had failed to stop the Atom Meister from shrinking Tom, and now he had Tom in a plastic cell where he was helpless. At this time, the Atom Meister walked by and took a look at Sonic. His face had lost any energy or positivity. In the doctorâs typical fashion, he chose this time to make Sonic feel worse about his loss in the battle for Tom, to just pour a bit of salt into the wound if you will.
âHow disappointing. You failed to save your beloved father, and now here he is in the kind of container you put leftovers in. Despite all of the foolishness involved on my end, you still failed on yours. How? Because you are a failure, a disappointment. I donât even know why you came. Shouldâve brought friends or something. You know what? I should let you reflect on this, say your goodbyes to Tom. Iâll put himâ he scooted the tupperware closer to Sonic but not quite within reach, âright here. Have fun!â He walked away, cackling and mumbling about Sonic under his breath for dramatic effect.
Tom felt horrible. His son had been humiliated and now he was in a vulnerable position. As Sonic hung his head and began to sob, Tom said,
âDonât worry, Sonic. We can still get out of this. Donât lose hope. Thatâs what the Atom Meister wants; he wants you to lose hope. He wants to crush you emotionally. You have to find some hope, some confidence. Donât let this be the end.â
Sonic let his words circle in his head for a while. The Meisterâs words battled Tomâs for headspace and focus, fighting over who would win over Sonicâs head. Eventually, Tomâs beat out the Meisterâs and he looked up, a tear streaming down his face.
âYouâre right. I canât give up. We have to stop him abd whatever heâs planningâ he said, his voice somewhat broken but more hopeful than sorrowful, âletâs do thisâ.
But since they had no escape path, a plan they had not. The cell had no windows, the door couldnât be open nor kicked down. And even if they could, there were also security cameras; any plan would be foiled quickly. There had to be some silver lining, something lacking that would enable them to do SOMETHING.
That silver lining was made clear to Tom very quickly; there were no security guards at the cells, only at the end of the hall. They werenât interested in keeping the prisoners in, but rather their accomplices out. When the ventilation started and a loud hum filled the hall, Tom slammed his minuscule body against the plastic wall of the Tupperware. The push caused Tom to slide closer to Sonic, but not quite close enough. He ran to the back and then forward and slammed the wall again with his shoulder, which gave him just enough momentum to where Sonic could reach the Tupperware. Sonic, realizing what Tom did, used two fingers to hold open the lid as Tom jumped and climbed over the lip of the Tupperware wall, then falling onto the concrete floor, making a light slap sound. Sitting back up, he quickly slid through the bars and hopped into the palm of Sonic, who then lifted him up slowly to his face. Sonic then turned around so that the cameras couldnât see Tom anymore.
âWell, now what? I canât hide you anywhere, and if the Atom Missy comes over and finds you out, weâll be in huge trouble!â Sonic asked frantically, his eyes darting around in search of a sign of danger. Then, the sound of a spin dash emulated from the direction of the guards, giving Sonic newfound relief, relief that they had an exit plan.
*****************************************************************
Alright, we know that came out of nowhere, and we apologize. Letâs back up and see what happened:
Tails and Knuckles, if you recall, had been left behind to ride the ATV to Sonicâs location that Tails was tracking with his GPS, but it wasnât running at the moment. The engine was seemingly locked up, and turning over the key seemingly did nothing.
âKnuckles, can you see if you can remove the engine for me?â Tails asked, his tone of voice indicating a plan.
âAlrightâ Knuckles responded in a monotone voice, walking over to where the ATV sat. Bending down, he grabbed both sides of the engine with his meaty claws and ripping it right out, leaving behind scraps of pipes. Quickly, Tails went to the scrap of parts he had been using to make the atom reducer, and picked out two parts: a large washing machine motor and some wires from a VCR. With some soldering, welding, and budging, within the hour they had replaced the engine with the motor. The only issue was battery life. Hopefully, they could make it.
One thing though we have havenât addressed is why Tails didnât just fly Knuckles there, and hereâs where we mention something important: Tails scratched one of his tails the previous week. The atom reducer required some wire cutting with a knife, and while Tails cut some wires, his tail crept towards it unknowing and managed to get cut, so flight was unavailable when it was needed most.
But they didnât need it. The ATV rolled and therefore with Knuckles at the helm and Tails tracking their destination, they drove it into the woods rolled on through the woods, bumping and bouncing until they made their way to the highway. At the 2-lane highway, a blue Ford got stuck behind them, as did the red Dodge behind him, and then the next car, and then the next car, and the next car and the next car. The afternoon was filled with the sounds of honking and angry shouting of obscenities from drivers slowly but surely making their way to their destinations. Knuckles drove somewhat erratically, so Tails had to hold on to his shoulders tight as to not fall off. As the road stretched before them, Tails and Knuckles began to get impatient and they considered the task impossible. Thankfully, around then is when they pulled to the right into the road that lead them to Disruption Corporation. Hopping off, they ran towards the door, which had never been closed behind Sonic, and found some soldiers waiting. Knuckles made quick work of them, such quick work that details are unnecessary; just know they got pummeled. Making their way towards the elevator, they pressed every basement level in search of Sonic.
The first level lead to a sauna, the second to a bar, but the third lead to the prison cells and 2 guards who spotted them and dashed towards them. Knuckles knocked the lights out of the first with a nice punch while Tails wrapped his good tail around the secondâs leg and swang him into the wall.
*****************************************************************
We caught up, letâs head back to the other perspective. Sonic and Tom were pleased to see the other boys at their aid. Knuckles ripped the door straight off the cell and the two entered.
âOh no, they used my invention on Tom. Hopefully we can fix this once we get home!â Tails remarked.
âItâs alright. Glad you guys made it!â Sonic replied.
âNow we need to get me out of here and dash home so we can plan our next stepsâ Tom interjected. At the moment, transport seemed difficult, but Sonic planned on just holding Tom the entire way. He did it for the turtle, so Tom would be fine. As long as they werenât interrupted, storage would be unnecessary. Just then, they were interrupted by the footsteps down the hall. The Atom Meister was on his way.
âSonic!â Tails whispered. âWe need to hide Tom so he canât take him back!â
But a quick look around revealed no hiding spot, so Sonic froze. The footsteps echoed louder and louder in his head, until eventually he came up with a plan. He knew neither him nor Tom would enjoy this, but it was seemingly his only option. Remembering Tailsâs comments about what the shrinking would do to a human, he quickly uttered his plan.
âTom, this is going to sound really gross, but to get you out, I need to⊠swallow youâ he whispered. Tom shook his head in denial.
âItâs the only hiding place we have, and the shrinking should keep you safe!â Tails added, trying to help convince Tom, who clearly was shocked. This was insane! The thought of being stored within the guts of another living being, let alone his SON, was one that could only come from the mind of a lunatic, of a hungry person. The option presented was to be eaten, like food, hidden away with no further thought. And yet, right here, right now, it was somehow necessary to be eaten, a singular solution to a messy problem. He had no time. In heavy reluctance, he agreed.
Sonic was also heavily conflicted about this, but he had no other choice besides being caught. Shakily, he opened his mouth and stuck his slimy tongue out in range for Tom to climb onto. The sight was something he never expected to see in his lifetime: the near-uncanny teeth shining in his face, the healthy pink of the mouth, and his throat, instinctually flexing in anticipation of its next meal. Placing his left hand upon the tongue, Tom somewhat recoiled but placed his right hand on too, with less recoil. He climbed his way onto the tongue and sat in the small pool of saliva that had formed. Slowly, Sonic clicked his mouth shut.
This was an odd sensation for both of them. For Tom, he was in the hot, humid, fleshy maw of someone so much bigger and more powerful than him. Every tongue twitch of both anticipation and fear was obvious and could be felt below him. For Sonic, he had a living, breathing thing on his tongue. Someone he trusted and had previously been cared for was now his responsibility and was entirely within his mercy. Despite the power split, Sonic took extreme care covering him in the slime, keeping Tom away from the teeth that could easily cut him. As the footsteps of the Atom Meister got closer, panic set in. Sonic quickly produced another pool of saliva, shuffled Tom back with his tongue, tilted his head and gulped, hard. A gasp emitted from Tails as he witnessed Sonicâs Adamâs apple move and realized that Sonic had just gulped Tom down with ease, the plan was in motion. Within, Tom yelled as he fell with the liquids headfirst into the flexing throat that gripped him and dragged him past the uvula and epiglottis down, down into the core of the hedgehog.
âHow is this possible?!â
These were the words the Atom Meister asked in disbelief as he looked apon the scene in front of him: the tiny man he had imprisoned was nowhere to be seen, and the blue rodent was surrounded by other rodents, red and yellow. His guards had been knocked out.
âHonestly, Iâm more embarrassed than angry, so Iâll offer mercy. Tell me where the tiny Tom went, and I wonât shrink you all and toss you into a wasp nest. Fair? I think soâ
What he wasnât aware of, though, was that Tom was right in front of him, just hidden away. As Tom slid down the esophagus, he contemplated his choices thus far. He had allowed Tails to make his atom reduction garbage, chosen to use the door closest to the home invaders, and where had this led him? To the innards of a blue alien hedgehog he had taken in. After what seemed like an eternity, the sphincter opened and he was dropped unceremoniously into the stomach.
This place sucked. It was a pitch black swamp filled with acid and the smell of death. The liquid was stagnant and chunky, which was just a nightmare really. Perhaps the worst part was the temperature: just unbearably hot and unliveable. This was what he imagined Texas felt like. At this moment, heâd preferred to be experimented on by the Atom Meister rather than be in this chamber of flesh and liquids, in the inner chamber where he didnât belong.
The stomach itself didnât recognize this, and let more acids seep in, acids that had no effect on the reduced atoms. Tom wondered if Sonic had been aware of this fact or if he had just recklessly risked his life, had eaten him without knowing if he would be treated as such by his body. The stomach churned around him, unaware it wasnât doing anything worthwhile.
Meanwhile, the boys were obviously not about to reveal Tomâs hiding place. It would compromise everything.
âThe location of the tiny man is a secret we intend to upholdâ Knuckles told the Meister. The Meister rolled his eyes so hard he got somewhat dizzy.
âFigures. Welp, enjoy tortureâ he replied. âGUARDS! GRAB THESE FOOLS!â
Crickets. His entire security detail had been knocked out in these two battles. Perhaps he needed more, but at this rate, Disruption Corporation would have him sacked for his utter failure. Might as well spite them.
âGreat. Welp, Iâm losing my job. My career, my dignity, my life has been ruined because you three managed to sweep away my entire security detail. Theyâre-â
Two soldiers, limping, took this time to enter the scene, shooting a shot at Sonic who of course dodged it. Much to the dismay of the Atom Meister, who stood away rooting for them, this battle wouldnât last long. The boys dashed out of the cell and beat the crap out of the two soldiers, Knuckles punching, Tails doing something meaningful, and Sonic quickly tying their belts together and around them to restrain them.
The Meister could only simply say, âWell color me impressed. Bye!â as he ran off to the stairs. Knuckles ran after him, dashing up the stairs and keeping up. The Meister had panic on his face and sweated harder with each quick step, doing everything his body would let him to get the hell out of Dodge. With determination in his eyes he strided long and hard, catching up with the Meister down the hallway and tackling him to the brown carpet like a football player. Sonic caught up with them and so did Tails. The three dragged his big body to the machine, where he was shrunk and imprisoned in the same Tupperware Tom resided in 10 minutes ago.
âYou canât do this to me! This was my invention and now youâre turning it against me!â
âActually, sir, thatâs my invention, and it was your thievery of my things that turned against youâ
âTHATâS MEISTER TO YOU, YOU PETULANT ROACH!â
That though, as Tails pointed out, was a title that was given to someone who earned respect, which he certainly had not. Tails calling him sir was a courtesy, a nice gesture that was undeserved. Popping in now was Maddie. She checked Tomâs location and had found his icon in the middle of the woods.
âWhat on Earth is going on in here? Whereâs Tom?â She asked, somewhat panicked.
âThis man stole Tailâs atom reduction machine and kidnapped Tom so we had to get him and stop this guy from using it,â Sonic replied
âOkay, but where is Tom?â
Now this was a question Sonic couldnât answer, his cheeks beginning to blush under his fur and stuttering.
âUh-u-u-uâ
âHeâs in Sonicâs stomach for protectionâ Tails interjected. This was quite the surprise.
âWHAT? YOU ATE TOM? ALRIGHT, WEâRE HEADING HOME AND YOUâRE COUGHING HIM UP. LETâS GO!â She yelled, shocked.
The boys were unable to transport the machine back home, so Tails destroyed the parts, rendering it useless. Following this, the boys got into the car, suffering from a car ride.
âHow could you do that? He could die!â
âNot the way my invention workedâ Tails said in defense of Sonic.
âGreat, but thatâs also, like, extremely gross and disturbing, so not great. Letâs head home and take care of himâ she replied, turning up the radio to indicate a desire for a silent car ride the rest of the way until they could get home and retrieve Tom.
Speaking of Tom, howâs he doing? Not great. Heâs sitting on the edge of the stomach wall, closed fist under his chin. On the one hand, this is disgusting and he has things to do this afternoon which are going to be impacted by this unless he can take the worldâs quickest shower, which he canât with how much scrubbing heâs going to do. Heâs covered in acid and chili dog residue and just so much stuff he doesnât want to have on him. On the other hand, Sonic had saved him from the Atom Meisterâs control, and God only knows where that couldâve gone. This was a hellhole, but a hellhole that kept him safe and secure from malicious no-good villains. He was making peace with this in a way. Besides, it kind of felt like a hot tub in a weird, not-as-good way. Maybe this wasnât as bad as he thought. He can handle this. Maybe this was⊠a good thing?
He decided to scratch that last bit out of his mind, but like scratching out text with a single pen line, he was unable to fully do so.
Riding in a stomach sucks.
Who wouldâve thought, right? But every little pothole, bump of the car, etc moved Sonic slightly, but tilted his stomach enough to where Tom was slipping and sliding around every once in a while like Eustace in the mouth of the Sand Whale. He was covered not only in stomach juices now, but the slime covering the sides. Sure, it was a safe method of transport, you didnât have to be too concerned with injury or being spotted by onlookers, but it smelled like death and made you smell bad as a result. Itâs like riding in a slip and slide but itâs 90° outside and instead of water, itâs foul acids. Just terrible for the rider.
But what about the horse? Sonic could feel this motion, and it made him feel sick with every movement of the car and Tom as a result. Maybe this would make him vomit Tom back up.
âSonic, please try and wait until we get home. I just cleaned out the carâ Maddie told Sonic, her voice calmer but still somewhat frantic. Can you blame her? Her husband had been eaten alive by their adopted son, was stewing in guts, and despite what Tails had told her about his safety, something was still nagging at her, trying to convince her of the contrary. Her adrenaline did more than just make her mind race, though; her driving somewhat suffered as well. While she attempted to maintain proper etiquette, at least one red light was ran and blinkers werenât always activated in a timely manner. At the stop sign on Baker Street, she ended up having to slam her brakes as she had missed the stop sign. Silently scolding herself for being foolish. She took a right towards their street, relieved that they were almost home. Relived that soon, Tom would be safe and the boys wouldnât be so stressed.
Maddie pulled into her driveway slowly as to not hit the trash cans. Once the car had eased to a halt, she shifted into park and pressed the start button on her car to shut it off, the pistons no longer firing and the fan slowing down towards silence. The boys, squished in the backseat, filed out, Sonic and Tails from their right, Knuckles from his left. Maddie stepped out after unbuckling and made her way towards Sonic, who was idly standing with his head tilted downward somewhat.
âAlright, you and I are headed to the kitchen sinkâ
Maddie gripped Sonicâs hand and the two made their way up the steps into the front door, with Tails and Knuckles behind. Making their way to the kitchen, Sonic stepped upon the step stool and peered down into the sink. Maddie, prepared, put the stopper into the garbage disposal to prevent Tom from going down there. If only Pat Kramer had been so fortunate, the entire third act of that movie wouldnât have happened. Sonic took a second, puzzled at Maddieâs crossed arms next to him. It took him a minute to realize the expectation: Maddie wanted him to throw Tom back up, thereby releasing him from his fleshy cage. Taking a deep breath, he stuck his pointer and middle fingers down his throat, causing a heavy gag. Repeating the motion caused him to spit up some bile into the sink, but nothing major. Third times the charm? Taking yet another deep breath, he stuck those fingers down and out from the depths of his core came liquidy orange vomit, and directly in the middle of the splatter was Tom, even more grossed out than before, attempting to sit up but not stand just yet. He was decently dizzy from the sudden expulsion.
âThat was the grossest thing Iâve ever doneâ Tom remarked nonchalantly.
âTom! Are you alright?â Maddie asked.
âYeah, just a bit freaked out and somewhat dizzy.
She leaned over Sonic, who was on his knees recuperating from the energy-heavy event, and turned on the water to just a sprinkle to wash Tom off. She gave him a drop of Dawn dish soap bubble and he used it to wash himself somewhat, scrubbing fully clothed due to the presence of children in the room. Once he wasnât covered in any unclean liquids, she lifted him gently onto a hand towel, which he used to dry himself. Cleanliness was something he had dearly missed for the last 30 minutes, and he was happy to have it back.
He was unfortunately going to have to be late to work, but hopefully he wouldnât be in too much trouble for it; heâd never been late once before. Sonic was still drained from vomiting, but he was glad that he wouldnât have to swallow another living being anytime soon. The experience wasnât as enjoyable as the movies had made it up to be. Tails and Knuckles were also glad to be back home and that theyâd never have to drive that stupid ATV again.
Now, even with the resolution of the problem and everyone being happy with the end of the Atom Meisterâs drama, there was still a glaring issue, something that hadnât quite been addressed. Nobody really had a grasp on what, but it slowly seeped into their minds, filling their heads and choking out the relief. Slowly, everyone turned to Tails for a moment and after what felt like ages, Tom broke the pregnant silence, airing the thought everyone had been infected with.
âSo uh, Tails, how do I get back to regular size?â
TF2 Engineer Vore - Armoâs Destimulation Station
This is the last story that was published before I set up this Tumblr, so Iâve effectively cleared out the back catalog for Tumblr (not for Reddit yet; just created a new SFW writing subreddit lol). This story was originally published on July 19th, 2024, and was requested by the same person who requested the Demoman vore story (which Iâm linking here since while you donât really have to have background info, it would probably be useful even though I contradicted myself in this story lol: https://www.tumblr.com/tefifonconnoisseur/757012614937296896/armos-tale-of-tomfoolery-demoman-vore)
I was asked to have Armo have a sensory overload and that being the inciting incident for the nomming, and so I obliged, doing my best to describe it with the requesterâs description, but I donât personally have sensory overloads so I apologize if my description is inaccurate or misleading. Also, if that would trigger you, please feel free to skip this one out and read something else.
As previously, this story also contains swearing, but maybe not as much Scout hate this time?
Ah, Armo.
The Armorer, as their class denotes them, was an excellent teammate on Blue. Their job consisted of stealing ammo from Red, giving it to Blue, and making distractions for a higher kill count for the team. Their shorter stature made them harder to spot and notice, which made them the perfect choice for this position. As long as they had their headphones, they could handle the stress of the position.
Now, when we say shorter stature, we mean around 3 inches tall, or the perfect height to slide into pockets. This wasnât the result of some freak experiment, nor a lab accident, but rather how they were born. See, Armo was the Blue HQâs resident borrower back in the day. They borrowed things like small food morsels, magnets, and other tiny things they wouldnât have to return. What they were sloppy at was that food part, as they were discovered in a peanut tin by the Blue Spy. When the team came over to investigate, it was the Engineer suggested making them a team member.
The Engineer? Engie himself? Yes. The Engineer. A medium-height, sturdier man with goggles, a Southern accent, a good-natured personality, and some pretty good knowledge thought that their size and experience âborrowingâ would make the stealing of things from Red a cakewalk. The Blue Spy scoffed at this and made arguments against this, but he was unsuccessful in this.
However, after so long, several VERY important things happened. These things happened as of a result of an incident where the Demoman had to save Armo from being eaten by eating them himself.
First, Armo was reassigned, gaining the position of Engineering Assistant, which meant he was to work directly with Engie (as he was affectionately yet platonically called). That meant being directly with the protection of someone at all times, which while an annoyance for the Armo, was understandable. Had it been anyone but the chicken-like Red Scout, things would have gone differently for the worse.
Second, Armo became a little more comfortable with being swallowed by his teammates, as odd as that is. There was a sense of protection and peace with it, which helped during some overloads. While most teammates respectfully declined, the Engineer eventually became more comfortable as well. Both of these things were kept exclusive to the headquarters for the sake of Armo. This was until this story, where at the demand of The Administrator, Armo was forced to continue this role on the battlefield.
One other thing we need to mention is the headphone thing mentioned in the beginning. See, Armo was sensitive to loud and constant noises, and their headphones protected them from a sensory overload, which would hinder both themselves and their missions.
Typical day, typical battle against Red for the honor of some dead guys. As youâd expect, Armo stayed with Engie once the battle started and they went off to set up some machine guns. Armo had their headphones on and also assisted, turning nuts and bolting bolts, soldering wires and welding plates as needed. It was going well so far, with each gun being set up and some Red folks getting shot at. However, the third one wasnât made quite well. The holes for the bolts were slightly too small, so it took some hard wrench twisting to secure. Armo attempted to twist one higher up, but their size and strength werenât quite enough to secure a bolt that needed this much. So, in a move that was in hindsight unwise, they climbed up onto the wrench and started jumping on it. Their jumps became harder and harder as they became less and less patient. They were running out of time to set this up before it would be needed to shoot out some punks. They jumped up, and landed back down with just enough force to turn the bolt with a loud and prolonged squeaking sound, which sent the Armorer flying onto a cloth being used to hold things, and their headphones down a storm drain.
Suddenly, all of the noise, the gunshots, the yelling, the generators powering this craphole warehouse, the noise the CFL lights made, all of it shot straight through their ears into their brain, slicing it like a knife and causing an overwhelming feeling, then sinking into their chest and causing them pain. Their ears just kept ringing and being filled and Armo just wanted to take them off, to stop all of this. On the cloth, they just rolled up and covered their ears tight and let some tears stream, and all focus was lost.
One of the things that makes them a great duo is that Engineer is aware of Armoâs susceptibility to loud and constant noise and could tell that it was BAD. This place echoed like crazy, no wonder it was loud. He looked down once he finished a bolt and his goggled eyes were shocked to see the Armorer without their headphones just suffering. Thankfully, the Engineer is good at staying calm. He gently scooped up the Armorer into his palm and brought them close to his face.
At least for now, not a word was spoken between the two individuals, as the outcome of this situation was clear; this wasnât a foreign affair. The Armo needed a safe, quiet space to reset their head, and the Engineer understood the assignment.
Engineer popped open their mouth and placed Armo onto his cushion of a tongue carefully in the way one places a wine glass onto a table. Next, he clicked his mouth shut. Armo was still overwhelmed as they were slathered in saliva in preparation for the trip to the stomach, but was aware of what was happening and was somewhat relieved somewhere in their head that the deafening sensation would soon cease. The shuffling of them via the tongue was key for the climactic step: with Armo now at the back of the tongue, Engineer took just one deep gulp, and Armo was sent straight down, down into the esophagus towards the core.
Now, those noises that had been Armoâs hell were replaced with the rhythmic heartbeat from Engineer, going at a decent pace despite the stress of war. Rhythmic too was the peristalsis, which after 9 seconds took them into the core of the digestive system: the stomach. This place, unlike the bitchass warehouse, was relieving of the senses. It was dark and relatively quiet, which enabled Armo to slowly cool down and destimulate. While not immediately stated, the quiet,
âThank you for thisâ
Armo said was all the Engineer needed to hear so their stress wouldnât elevate. It was therapeutic for the Engineer and the Armo, Armo obviously destimulating but also Engineer protecting and nurturing Armo in a place where they couldnât be found. It was heaven.
Oh wait, where were we again? Oh yeah, a war battlefield, right. Yeah, this platonic bonding moment was doomed to be a very short-term moment, as the Engineer had to get back to work using turrets to obliterate Redâs forces. Quickly, he finished the machine gun the two had been working on and used it to destroy an approaching Heavy. Shots fired like lyrics from Rap God, and he was down. The shots, while muffled for Armo, were loud for quite literally everybody else, which compromised this position. Thankfully, with a tip from the Blue Scout, the Soldier was right behind them for a huge shootout.
. . .
Admittedly, that scene is not one Armo was concerned with at the moment, or was even aware of, as they had fallen asleep against the stomach wall, their mind clearing out all of the stress that the noise had caused and giving them a mental break, at least for the moment. Once they woke up, it would be in the hands of Engineer when they were released from within him. It didnât even matter if the Engineer was killed; the respawn machines would respawn Armo with him. But until that moment arrived, until they had to get back to work, back to the team who would try not to acknowledge anything, to the Engineer who would be working on new headphones, they laid unconscious and at peace, and all was well.
The following short ramble has no name and was published last night out of nowhere.
âCome on, bro, eat us!â
Being a predator in a school as prestigious as Hogwarts has its benefits. You could integrate with prey easier and protect your friends, good stuff. Itâs when your friends find out about the storage stomach that things go wrong. Suddenly, they discover a shrinking spell and want you to swallow them. Why? Because studying blows and their teenage hormones block out the other things they could do for the sake of clout and âW Rizzâ.
So here you are, your predator cravings on fucking fire and your friends wanting stored, despite you not wanting to get caught and lose more points for Hufflepuff than yesterday. Peer pressure wins, and you give in.
One by one, you slip each friend in, cover them with saliva, and take a gulp, sending them down to storage. Your finger tracks them from the throat to the collarbone. Once theyâre down, they celebrate, moving so much you wanna hurl.
But hey, you did what they wanted, and now youâre on their good list again.
You need new friends.
I promise the TMNT 2012 vore fic is on its way. Iâve been quite busy these past few weeks, but the story is around⊠letâs say 75% done. My hope is to have it published today or tomorrow.
Iâve actually had the Wattpad cover done since before I started writing, because for some reason I actually planned this out somewhat beforehand. I donât usually show them off here because they just serve the purpose of being a cover with the story name, author name, and pred-of-the-(metaphorical)week, but F it.
Iâm not drawing covers because I donât do color. Sorry!
Instead of doing something beneficial with my life like studying or sleeping, I drew vore art for the second first time, and decided I liked it enough to share it here. Still no guarantees I donât delete this, but hey, itâs fine.
Beast Boy from Young Justice Season 2 has a fantastic design and (although I havenât watched the show so I shouldnât comment, I am anyway) fun personality. Googling tells me heâs 14, which is my cutoff.
Iâll probably dive into the magical world of mouths next time, but Iâm taking a step at a time here lol. Until then, enjoy deciphering the hyroglyphics known as my handwriting. Buh bye!
Nothing screams me more than making a vore art, forgetting what I was doing with it, then trashing it because I thought I was trying to make a comic when in reality I just intended to make a simple maw shot. Itâs too late now; I crumpled it up and threw it out.
In other news, I have a story idea or two in mind, and my stress writing-wise is gone, so Iâll be publishing a new story this week if I get enough sleep and my ADHD-fueled brain doesnât just sit there for an hour staring at a Google Doc (itâs happened to pieces of paper intended for art before). See you all soon!
watching the latest decensdents movie!! blue and the red are pretty