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Yeah. But seriously, I’m not sure if you meant to send this or not, but I’m gonna write for my favorite J.ason! I feel like overstimulating him today.

J.ason lets out a low groan as he feels small hands moving along his stomach. Well…small to him, at least. He’s a towering beast of a man so average-sized guys like the one tending to his stomach right now are pretty small. He’s not usually one to play with food—his momma always told him not to—but…does it count if the food is playing with him? He’s found the teens in his forest, as he always does, doing things they shouldn’t, as they always do. And J.ason took them down, one after another, sending them down to fill the void of his stomach with live, squirming meat. He had missed on though—they’d been away when J.ason attacked and came by just after he finished slurping down the last of them. He’d planned to snap this one up, too, but…instead of the usual reactions—screaming, crying, cursing, running, or all of the above—this one came right up to him and just…started rubbing his gut. Even with the man’s friends screaming for help or mercy in J.ason guts, boiling acids and strong muscles steadily breaking their bodies down in a horrible and agonizing fashion, this human was showing no hint of fear. More…fascination. And J.ason has never felt belly rubs, especially while so full, and as it turns out, they appease him like they would be a big dog. Well…J.ason is more comparable to a bear in terms of size, strength, and deadliness, but it was working on the same. The killer is one his back, groaning out as small hands rub and push along his steadily softening stomach. A roaring belch rumbles out of him after a good shove, shaking the trees around them down to their very roots. And all he gets in response is a few gentle pats to his gut, making it slosh back and forth. J.ason is going to eat this one for sure. Just…after a few more rubs. Then he’ll do it for sure.

J.ason knew that the people who intrude in his forest could be...horny. But he didn't think it'd get like this. He'd stalked after a group staying in an old house, finding the door unlocked as he walked inside. The smell of alcohol and pot was strong, so he figured that there wouldn't be much of a struggle here, but the group of guys he found passing a bong around in the living room had basically warmed him. They pulled the lumbering man over and got him down on the couch, much to J.ason's surprise. He lost his machete at some point as he felt hands moving along his body--rubbing his stomach, feeling his arms, squeezing his pecs. The men seemed absolutely enamored with how massive J.ason is, their inebriation and sudden horniness for the massive man making it so they hardly considered how strange what was going on actually is. J.ason found all of the physical attention far too much to resist, not used to the feeling at all. One of the guys noticed how much J.ason was enjoying it because the killer's pants came undone soon, letting his throbbing member poke out for everyone to marvel at. Definitely the biggest they'd ever seen. They even start to elicit guttural moans from J.ason when they take turns feeling the monster over. J.ason had never felt anything like it...and he was enjoying it a lot. Being so new to it all made him incredibly sensitive to it all and he was pretty quickly lost in the pleasure of new sensations. But his body was still made to eat--to kill--and it doesn't take long before one of the high college guys manages to get his finger stuck in J.ason's cock...and then his hand...and then he's up to his shoulder. Before long, the other guys are watching their friend being slurped up by that massive member, the man-turned-meal getting some pathetic wiggles of confusion out before he's slurped up fully and J.ason's nuts are stretched over his form. Instead of being shocked, afraid, or disgusted, the remaining guys have found the whole thing incredibly amusing, and it's not long before another one has tried shoving his hand inside to find the killer's cock slurping him down like a starving snake. J.ason isn't even doing it on purpose this time, left moaning and panting on the couch as his neglected cock gets its first real taste of meat and practically goes on a feeding frenzy, slurping down each man with the same ease and skill the killer normally manages on his own. It doesn't take long before the last of the guys is slurped down, J.ason's sack now resting on the floor, stretched tightly around them and already beginning to churn noisily. Cum drips down his length, forming a puddle on the ground as the man's hand wraps around his meat to begin jerking himself off. His balls churn and flex, effortlessly breaking down his impromptu meals down into a thick cream one after another, each powerful flex breaking another down. It's not long before J.ason throws his head back with a roar, his cock firing off like a geyser as thick ropes of cum go splattering around the living room, striking nearly every surface and painting it a thick, musky white. Clothes and bones stick to whatever surface the strike, some ending up even plastered above on the ceiling with how much J.ason is letting loose. By the time he's done, he's limp on the couch, breathing deeply and staring up with hazy eyes. The living room has been trashed, most things knocked over or thrown around and all of it coated in a few hundred gallons of cum. J.ason wouldn't leave that cabin until hours later...but even right now, lost in the afterglow, he knows why these teens enjoy this so much suddenly. And he also knows he has to find more to do it again.

I can meet in the middle and make it ambiguous, but I do love the idea of a dominant predator-type having his own form of "mercy" for prey.

Dude it's absolutely my shit. I love it a lot. So now I will prove it with more prompts!

"W-Wait, I'm sorry, I didn't know!" the man yells, trying to crawl away. He's grabbed by the ankle and dragged back to the hunter. His hairy gut was sticking out, gurgling and churning thickly over the man's buddies. "That's too bad," the hunter says, lifting the man off the ground and dangling him in the air, "because I don't care. This is my property. I get to hunt whatever ends up on it. You and your stupid friends are food--you were the second you walked past that fence." The man is lifted up further, now over the man's head and staring into his open, drooling maw. "No, please, don't eat me! Don't--" He's dropped in and sinks right down the hunter's gullet, stopping waist deep. His legs kick around wildly for a few seconds before they're slurped up as well, sending him down. The hunter slurps over his lips and readjusts his hat. He gives his bulging gut a hard smack, making it slosh back and forth as he lets out a roaring belch into the woods. A hundred acres of the stuff and it's all his. No one else seems to get the memo, though, and he spends more time picking off hikers and campers and bird-watchers than actual game. Oh well...it's all the same in the end. "Stupid fucking kids...not my fault you can't follow directions." He belches again, giving his gut a few rough pats as the campers inside squirm around, muffled screams barely getting through the thick fat. He stomps off, walking over the ruined tent he'd torn the first couple of out, and back to his home. He'll sleep these ones off before he goes out looking for more. There's always more somewhere. He'd put up more signs but...honestly, he does appreciate the food a bit.

The classroom is quiet, other than the sound of gulping and slurping and a muffled voice crying out. None of the students dare to look up, even as they hear a sigh of relief and a wet belch. The grades for their first exam had come in and the professor made it very clear that he's no accepted student whose grades fell under a threshold. Already, three seats sit empty, someone's belongings sitting at each of them now unattended. Now there was a fourth, and the professor is back to roaming through the class like a prowling animal waiting to strike. His stomach sloshes with every step he takes, bumping into desks. "Now remember class," the professor says, wiping a bit of drool from his chin. "This is an entry-level course. Failing here means you weren't going to get much farther." There's a scream as he pulls another student from their seat, pleases for mercy quickly drowned out by more gulping and slurping as the professor devours him without hesitation. A wet belch sends a sneaker flying from his jaws and he continues prowling. "Some of you got very close to that failing grade as well, so I really do recommend you use today's study time wisely. We wouldn't want you to slip up on the next exam." Another student is dragged out of his seat, cursing and yelling as he's shoveled down the hatch with the other failing students. The teacher's gut is getting too large to fit nicely in the rows and it's beginning to shove desks and knock things over. Not that he seems to care. Another student is down the hatch and he's back to moving through the crowd. "I'm not doing this because I want to. I'm doing it for your own sakes, even if you might not understand that." One last student is lifted out of his seat and devoured, the professor now walking back to the front of the class as he slurps down a pair of kicking legs. He settles back in his chair with a sigh, his massive gut resting on the desk before him. It groans and churns loudly, the various bulges of students fighting for their lives inside on full display. Another belch roars out of him as he rubs his gut. "Failing this class just means you aren't cut out for it, and that's fine. It just means that you're better off serving as food for me. Now, the rest of you, continue to study quietly. Your lackluster classmates will be spending the rest of class time with their private biology lesson. Let their death be a lesson for the rest of you." The professor pats his gut with another belch, someone's jacket flying from his maw. Honestly, he was hoping more students would fail. Maybe he'll make this next exam harder. No harm in culling the herd a bit more.

This is a great idea!

That sounds like fun!

I do always love some extreme or sudden weight gain with vore, so why not?

The poor guy groans softly, eyes closed tight and drool dripping down his chin. With a wet slurp, he sucked in the last arm and sent his roommate down his gullet. His heavy gut filled his lap and a decent portion of the coffee table in front of him as he got his fourth course down. "Gah...I-I told you to keep it down while I was studying..." he whines, wiping drool from his face. His roommate was a brutish jock type and things went as the stereotypes warned him. He was loud and brash and unfriendly and the two did their best to avoid each other and simply survive college. But the big lug constantly brought his friends over and they never shut up. Usually, the nerdy college student bore it, but he was cramming for midterms and couldn't focus with four drunk assholes watching football in their living room too loudly. After an hour of getting nowhere and three times asking them to shut up, he was sick of it and took care of the problem himself. Maybe devouring four jocks suffering through a nasty freshman--does that still apply to seniors?--fifteen wasn't the best thing he'd done. Their angry, panicked yells and the sounds of his gut heavily processing them weren't much quieter. And now he can't move. And he made a mess of the living room knocking over most of their snacks and drinks in the tussle of scarfing them down. He groans again and leans his head back. He was just trying to close his eyes for a few minutes, but by the time they opened, it was morning. He's never been hit by a food coma that hard. He puts a hand to his much softer stomach, belching thickly as he pressed down on it lightly. That's when he noticed...he was huge! Most of his clothes had torn apart at the seams around his bulging muscles. He looked like one of those asshole jocks now! Hell...he thinks he was bigger than them! He winces when his gut rumbles and reminds him that a lot of them were pretty worthless, though, and had to go dump them out. He was halfway through passing his third skull when a thought struck him. "...oh god, I didn't study last night." Maybe his professor will give him an extension. He has a pretty convincing excuse, one punctuated by a grunt as he pushed out several more logs of jock shit.

"Do you want a good grade or not?" the student asks with a tight frown. He knows his professor did this on purpose. He was easily one of the best students in the class, so pairing him with the two dumbest must have been to try and get their grades up, too. Anything to make the teacher look better, right? But he didn't have the time to tutor these two meatheads on the semester of biology they were failing. That's why he had his new idea. "You guys don't even need to do anything for this, I've got to do all the work. Trust me, in a week, we'll all have the best grade for this project." That finally seemed to be enough for the two guys, who were now willing to listen to someone half their height and a fourth their weight. He's a total string bean compared to the muscular beasts before him but that was going to change soon. Well, if this idea worked. The first day was probably the hardest part, at least for him, because he's never done this before. But once both jocks pushed their faces into his pits, his body knew exactly what it was doing. It accepted their heads with ease, and once he managed to squeeze those broad shoulders under his arms, he was actually making his way along rather smoothly. His small arms were bulging more and more as it took on massive guys. He could hear them complaining about how tight it was and they were starting to wiggle. But they were only sinking deeper, and by the time they were up to their abs in his arms, there was some wet crunching sounds and his arms gave up on containing all of that meat. He groans as the jocks are mulched down in seconds and their mass added to his own. It happens again when he gets to their ankles, another wet crunching sound and a tight flexing demolishing more of that powerful meat. Then the feet were slurped in and destroyed. That left him panting on his bed, his body swelling up with new muscle mass as the two classmates were rapidly added to his frame. He even got some new body hair and...woof, a bit of a smell. "Okay...hff...day one complete. Just gotta take some body measurements and..." God, was his voice always that deep? He needs to write this all down. His stomach rumbles. Okay, maybe after a dump--those lug-heads must have been high in fiber. He had six more days of protein processing to record for this project and he was certain to get an A on it. And, well, technically, so would his project members. And the other guys he was going to be adding to his mass. But it's fine if it's all in the name of science and a good grade, right?

Oh yeah, for sure! I definitely love it when preds decide to put "weaker" men to use as protein.

The problem with E.lectice type Pokemon was the fact that they only had one weakness, and that could even be easily subverted with the right strategy. That's what made the K.anto leader Lt. S.urge so difficult to fight--it didn't help that he knew how strong he was and showed it off to any trainers who came in. Most trainers seemed to lose to him, in fact, and there were rarely any rematches. Any trainer that lost to him was worthless in his eyes. In fact, the only thing they should be doing is fueling better trainers. That's why everyone he beats is sent into his garbage compactor of a gut. Weak trainers and weak Pokemon go down the hatch, bloating out his abs. And then he grins them down, flexing his gut over and over again. Everything inside breaks and snaps and crunches down as his body expertly pulverizes it down into pure muscle mass for him. If weaklings like that are lucky, he might just belch something up that he can throw away--at least then some proof of their existence will be left. But truly weak trainers are ground up in an instant, totally and completely, and those are the ones he loves to dominate most. That's why he became a gym leader.

The trainer whimpers as the pecs push tighter against his face. He'd come to rematch Lt. S.urge after completing the league challenge. He'd done it once, just barely, but wanted to prove that he'd gotten stronger and wipe the smug grin off the leader's face. But he'd just watched the tail of his final P.okemon slip between the seemingly endless crevice of the man's chest. "And that's the last..." Lt. S.urge grunts as his chest flexes tightly. The trainer can hear the sound of his P.okemon being mashed away. The chest swells against him, gaining mass off of another life. "...of your worthless P.okemon. They were barely worth the protein they gave me. Now, it's your turn." The pressure of the pecs finally bears down fully on the trainer, his head diving right between them. It's tight and hot and musky but the first flex sucks him in up to his waist and crushes him down at once. The next does the same, and he's gone like his team, just more powerful pec meat on a stronger trainer. "And to think you won the first time. Must've been a fluke. Glad you came back and fixed that."

Or possibly the hunk got a sports scholarship at a distant college and doesn't want to leave a few of his friends behind, so he ingests them in various ways. They'll always be with him as beefy mass. 💪

Oh dude I love stuff like that, it’s always really fun to me.

Despite how the guy looked, he was a total sweetheart. People would see the muscle-bound guy with clothes a bit too tight that stood taller than most and expect him to be a self-important jerk. But he was a gentle giant, always smiling and friendly, with lots of friends. And he was really cuddly, too--he seemed to just scoop everyone up into his arms for a big hug whenever the mood struck him. It made him endearing and most people got along with him. There was just that...mm...slight issue, of course, where he did it without a shirt on. Which happens more often than people might think--he never wore them at home or at the gym, so in most casual settings, his body was fully on display. That didn’t stop him from hugging people, but that was the issue, too. Sometimes he’d pull a buddy of his into a tight bear hug, and there’d be a wet slurping noise, and then he was just hugging himself after accidentally absorbing his friend. His body wasn’t as kind as he was, and when it had fresh meat pressed against it, it took it all. And of course he’d always feel bad when he noticed that he’d gotten bigger again and his friend was missing, but he’d always forget what happens by the time he’s going in for the next hug. But his body never forgot what to do when a guy was being shoved against it: friend or not.

I really shouldn’t have walked into his streaming room.

The second the door clicked shut behind me, he turned his head slightly, those white headphones still on, and gave me a hungry smirk that made my stomach drop.

“Perfect timing,” he muttered.

Before I could even back up, he reached behind himself, spread one of those massive, round cheeks, and flexed. His hole twitched obscenely, already slick and open.

“Wait— dude, what the fuck are you doing?!” I shouted, panic surging through me.

I tried to turn and run, but he was faster. He shoved the chair back slightly and slammed his heavy ass straight into my face. The heat and weight were overwhelming. I barely had time to scream before his hole stretched wide with a disgusting wet SCHLRRRP and swallowed my head in a single powerful motion.

“NO! STOP! LET ME OUT!” I screamed, but the sound was instantly muffled inside the crushing, sweltering tunnel of his ass. The walls were impossibly tight, rippling and squeezing around my skull like they were alive.

He let out a deep, satisfied groan and pushed back harder. I felt my shoulders forcibly shoved inside as his greedy ring stretched over them. I thrashed wildly, trying to pull my head back out, but every struggle only seemed to turn him on more.

“Fuck… keep fighting,” he moaned from outside, voice thick with pleasure. “Makes it feel so much better.”

I was panicking hard now. My arms flailed uselessly as he rocked his hips, working more of me inside. My chest disappeared between those heavy cheeks with a sickening GLRRK, followed by my stomach. The pressure was crushing. The heat was unbearable. Thick, slimy fluids coated my face and upper body as his guts pulled me deeper.

“PLEASE! I DON’T WANT THIS!” I begged, voice hoarse and muffled. “I’M NOT FOOD!”

He just laughed and reached back with one hand, grabbing my ass and shoving me in harder. My hips popped inside with a wet squelch. My cock was dragged along unwillingly, scraping against his tight inner walls as my legs kicked desperately outside the chair.

“No no no— STOP! Someone help me!!”

But no one was coming. He was streaming with his noise-canceling headphones on. The whole time he was casually swallowing me alive, his viewers probably just thought he was sitting there playing his game like normal.

With one final, powerful flex of his glutes, my kicking legs were sucked inside. My feet slipped past his hungry hole with a final shllluuuurp, sealing me completely inside his ass.

I was curled up tight in the boiling, pulsating depths of his guts, thrashing as hard as I could in the crushing darkness. The walls squeezed and kneaded me mercilessly from every angle, pulling me even deeper into his digestive system.

I could feel him settling comfortably back into his gaming chair, his body relaxing as he went back to clicking and typing like nothing had happened.

“Mmm… fuck, you’re a feisty one,” his voice rumbled around me. “Struggle all you want. You’re not coming out until you’re just a thick load of shit I’ll flush later.”

Every small shift of his body, every laugh, every little movement in that chair made his insides crush me tighter. The acids were already starting to tingle and burn against my skin. I kept fighting, screaming, crying… but it was useless.

Trapped deep inside this cocky gamer’s fat ass, slowly digesting while he played his games and chatted with his viewers like I was nothing more than a secret, squirming meal.

Gosh I enjoyed swallowing your brother... crazy how you just sent him to me knowing well what would happen... Just thinking with anticipation to his body dissolving within my balls into sticky salty cum... Your minds focused on how you could collect it in your mouth if I agreed to give him back to you... Letting your incestuous fantasies get the best of you...

If you dont swallow it all I could also swallow the one with the most cum covered face... The sperm made out of preys acts as the best lubricant... You would slide directly within now that my balls are empty again my dick will open fast, snatching your face and sucking in your body...