Ashveil's Perfect Little Slave

feeling their own bones crack and dissolve beneath the muscle of their predator. the all encompassing pressure and feeling of being wholly wanted and needed. remembering the sensation of falling apart. nothing is expected of them other than to melt away. no need to be a person. accepted into that dark and welcoming void. consumed and accepted wholly. the only thing to do is accept fate and be churned up

WARNING: IF YOU ARE NOT 18+, TURN BACK IMMEDIATELY. THIS IS NOT A STORY FOR YOU, SO DO NOT READ IT, PLEASE. EVERYBODY GOT THAT? GOOD.

Yesterday was International Underwear Day. Yes, really. That’s a thing. I was too late to make anything for that on time, BUT I did decide to finish this complete madhouse of kinky weirdness featuring Leona Kingscholar from “Twisted Wonderland.” For a long time, I’ve toyed around with the idea of ass entrapment; a tiny partner/preything being trapped in/with the rump of their giant-sized beau/predator for a while. I decided, as an experiment (and since I’ve had booties on the brain lately) to write up a trial of a story focused entirely on that kink. And who better to help with this experiment than my God and Master of Fiction, Leona?  This story contains rump smushing/smothering, butt crushing, ass entrapment, implied vore, various macro/micro elements, and general insanity. If none of that sounds like something you want to read, you have one last chance to turn back. If you’re still here…enjoy the ride. I know I did. >///>

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“Hmph. You know, Herbivore…I always thought you were cute, but at this size? Heh…I think even a mouse would say you’re adorable.”

A fittingly mouse-like squeak was the only audible response you had to offer, as you gazed up at your titan-sized boyfriend. When Leona Kingscholar had invited you to his dorm room, with the promise of a special “anniversary surprise,” you hadn’t expected it to be a faceful of Sam’s patented, long-lasting shrinking powder. Now, you were smaller than a rodent, while Leona’s handsome form loomed over you. A smug look of amusement was upon his scarred yet supremely beautiful face, while his green eyes glowed with a keen, almost ravenous sort of gleam…which, to be fair, seemed to be their usual setting. Your heart was hammering hard in your chest, for many reasons. Not the least of them was the fact that Leona was almost naked: it was still morning, and the lazy lion hadn’t yet gotten dressed for the day’s activity. His tanned, toned form leered down at you in all its glory; his well-shaped six pack abs pulsed with his breath, his large, heavy feet planted down on either side of your. His dark mane cast shadows across his face, giving an almost evil yet deeply entrancing veneer to his supercilious expression. “What’s the matter?” he purred. “Cat got your tongue?” He grinned, showing off his fangs as you were helpless to do anything but sputter mindlessly. Your faculties for speech and proper thought were all but kaput…seeing all that warm, inviting, smooth skin…seeing that gorgeous body…seeing those sharp teeth and that hungry look in his eyes… You weren’t sure exactly how small you were - less than three inches, to be certain - but you somehow felt totally microscopic now. As if you were in the presence of a God. You didn’t dare tell Leona that, though: the big jerk had an ego the size of a hot air balloon already, after all. With a rumble that seemed to make the floor beneath your feet quake, one of Leona’s strong, long-fingered hands reached out and scooped you up, carefully lifting you into the air as he rose from his squatting position. He stood at his full height, his free hand resting upon his plush, curved hip, which he cocked slightly as he inspected you within his grasp. His grip was firm yet tender; not painful, but certainly not easy to break. You wiggled instinctively, and watched him grin once more. “Don’t struggle, worm,” he teased, playfully, swishing his rope-like tail. “Now that’s just an uncalled for name,” you muttered, trying not to show how much the demeaning taunt made you blush. You were pretty sure you failed. “Well, I guess you’re right,” shrugged Leona. “If you were a worm, I’d just squish you.” A slightly sadistic shimmer came to his fanged smile as he gave you a squeeze…then chuckled as you squeaked once more. “Such a pathetic little thing,” he cooed, then raised an eyebrow. “How are you enjoying my anniversary surprise so far, hmmm?” “W-Well, I’m…mostly wondering WHY you’ve shrunk me?” you decided to ask, rather shyly. It was clear Leona was in a mean mood, and you really didn’t want to upset him when he was in that state. He could be scary even when he WASN’T in such a mood…but to be fair, giving in to his dominating presence had never exactly been something you tried hard to deny. You loved being his, and he loved knowing that. “I decided to give you a gift,” said Leona. “You’re going to take a backseat position for the rest of the day. Call it a favor: today, you don’t need to do any schoolwork. You don’t have to walk to class, run on the PE field, deal with those smelly chemicals in the lab…” “I’m guessing, at this point, there’s a catch involved,” you drawled. After all, he hadn’t just shrunk you to give you a break. You knew him too well to expect or believe that. “Depends on what you mean by catch,” answered Leona, slyly. 

Another piece of "Nondescript Noms" - random, faux-poetic drabbles of abject vorish, kinky cruelty written from the perspective of an unidentified, overweight predator. Who are they? What are they? What about the prey? All up to you to imagine. These tend to be pretty darn mean; this one includes indications of vore, belly smothering, butt crushing/ass entrapment, and other nasty things. DON'T LIKE? NOT 18+? DON'T READ. For the rest of you...enjoy!

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I’m not big, little one. No, no. That word doesn’t describe me at all. I am MASSIVE. I am ENORMOUS. I am STUPENDOUS.

Please, do use a better vocabulary when describing the one who is going to end your pathetic, puny, purpose-lacking life. I am not fat, either. I am OBESE. Mmmm…I do love that word, you know. “Obese.” So many words to describe how beautifully, bountifully overweight my burgeoning framework is, but that one just feels so…simple and yet potent. A perfect word for my immensity. These thick, heavy thighs that could break your little skull like a melon…this gorgeous, juicy rump that quakes and shakes with every rock and roll of my prodigious hips…not to mention the ample amounts of jiggling flesh the loll over my forelimbs and encircle my stout neck. Even the plushness of my cheeks…and of course, there’s my belly. Some boulders are smaller than my gut, I assure you. Do you know what the absolute best part of being so terrifically titanic is, tiny-face? Of course you don’t. But it’s how stupidly EASY so much of being this size is. You see, even with how encumbered my bulk may seem, I am no less strong and powerful for all this flab. I could end you with a single step, placed in just the right spot on your oh-so-small body. It wouldn’t take much effort at all. I would have no need to rush: no matter how much you tried to run or hide, I could take my time, waddling about and slothfully searching. I am as lazy as they come, sweetie-pie…because I can be. While some other predators have to struggle and strive, I can just…have you. Keep you. Make you mine. And there’s truly nothing you can do. You’ll tire yourself out or go mad before I am ready to give up. Because for as heavily-pounded as my gargantuan, hulking mass may be, and as slowly as I may take things…I don’t quit. When I see something I want in my belly, or under my butt, or between my thighs…I take it. Simple as that. Tonight, that means you. You should be happy. You should be honored. Your dying breath is going to mean so much more than your heartbeat ever meant.

˚₊·͟͟͞͞➳❥ KINKTOBER 2025

Day 2: Kidnapping w/ Arthur Morgan

MDNI, nsfw, gn!reader, (consensual/roleplay) kidnapping, bondage, overstim, fluff ending

running away from a man like arthur morgan was probably the worst idea you've had in your entire life.

'cause look at you now, laying on your belly, your clothes either torn off or haphazardly tossed across the floor, thick ropes expertly tied to keep you from moving. the way your arms twist to keep your wrists together, ankles shifting against each other uncomfortably tight. with the outlaw himself looming over behind you to tie the final knot.

shit.

"shouldn't 'ave ran away, swee'heart," his voice deep with disappointment -- or maybe excitement, you couldn't tell --, "told ya so many times, didn't i?"

"please let me go," you whimpered, "i'll do anything, please."

"oh, darling," he drawls out, propping your chin under a thick knuckle to tilt it upwards, meeting your wide-eyed gaze.

"i'm going to fucking ruin you."

“run.”

it’s just one word, but his voice is threateningly low, veering toward something dangerous. a sharp glint flickers across those honeyed irises. his jaw ticks and you hesitate, hitching a gasping breath.

he jerks his head, shooing you off. “you’re wasting time.”

you take off, heart beating everywhere except where it’s meant to. every step you take echoes in the silence, but it doesn’t matter. he’s already hunting you. you can feel it. not just the sound of his heavy, looming strides, but the heat of him drawing closer and closer and closer.

“i can hear your heartbeat.” he notes, unhurriedly trailing behind you. while turning a corner, he hums. “you scared?”

nanami sheds his usual restraint as you bolt through the dimly lit apartment, breathless. you don’t make it far at all — strong arms encase you from behind, hungrily yanking you back with a low, feverish growl against the thrumming heat of your neck.

“gotcha,” he murmurs against your twitching ear, dragging you down to the carpeted floor with him, and pinning you against the shag with a single hand as he mouths your throat. “really think you can run from me, silly girl?”

a burly knee is forcing your thighs apart and you whine, your woozy head nodding into the plush carpet. you don’t fight him off like prey should. instead, you’re letting him devour you whole; you wanted to be caught like this — breathless, panting. legs falling open so easily while his big palm cups the warmth of you through your pretty lil’ panties.

You will be digested by them for no other reason than the fact that you were their enemy. This is the natural consequence. Being their enemy, this is where you end up. An undignified end, treated as food for their body. Nothing close to being equals.

You feel them patting, rubbing their stomach. Obviously overjoyed. So happy to have finally defeated you. You feel their heart race, quick beating from overhead. Their body ecstatic, their mind and stomach both over excited at the prospect of digesting you.

You hear them say,

Mmmf… God, you're heavy in there…

They brag about winning, but their stomach is gurgling louder now so you cant hear them as easily. You feel them flop down, belly swaying, and you feels hands on the outside of the stomach, rubbing, kneading your form.

They tell you how satisfying that was. A good meal. A bit heavy, but oh, very satiating.