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Voretober Day 12 - Causality

This prompt was interesting since it feels…weirdly strange to put an idea to. So I played around with the ideas of "cause and effect" where things might not actually go as you planned and unintentionally dooming yourself. I feel like I was just kinda winging it on this one in terms of actual prompt relevance but the story itself I'm happy with and enjoyed writing! I won't pretend that S.tarFox is one of those series where I feel like I'm going to write them anywhere close to canon but I hope this is still good enough! Also I dunno if this counts as graphic digestion but it's like…alluded to. Kinda.

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#v.ore #gay vore #male vore #m/m vore #mlm vore #vore story #oral vore #fatal vore #digestion #starfoxvore #willing prey #wolfodonnellvore #foxmccloudvore #falcolombardivore #voretober

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Second part of the Smash vore tourney

Part 1 - <Part 2> - Part 3 - Part 4

Do you have any prompts from any character or any scenario that include tons of disposal?

I think I got some ideas! Gonna use some guys I haven't got asks for yet.

Little paws rub over A.ngus’s gut as it gurgles out wetly. A small, pleased hum escapes the bear, followed by a thick gulp to send the flailing arm sticking out of his mouth down the hatch. A deep huff comes out soon after, his gut growing out another notch with a wet groan. “Okay...I’m full, Bug.” Very full, in fact. That was about ten people--everyone who had been in the video store once his shift had ended. A.ngus can’t see his boyfriend past his stomach, but he can hear G.regg’s snickering and feel his paws pressing into his stuffed belly. “Suuure ya are, Cap’n. It’s not like I’ve seen you eat plenty more than this!” G.regg’s paws push in deeper, and it makes a wet squelch echo out. It also works out a thick belch out of A.ngus, making some of the DVDs on the shelves rattle around. G.regg snickers again and A.ngus lets out a little huff, a slight blush crossing his cheeks. The bear’s stomach is gurgling harshly, some people still squirming enough in there to bulge it out. But already, some of them have stopped moving entirely, and a liquid weight is starting to build up. A.ngus knows G.regg is right. This isn’t one of his bigger meals by a long shot. But he only really does this to appease G.regg, so the size of his feasts are almost always circumstantial. So long as it doesn’t get in the way of his work hours, A.ngus doesn’t mind, though. Plus...the belly rubs always feel nice. A.ngus figures that the other shift clerk might be in soon, and he still has some digesting to do, so he has G.regg help him move out of sight. The adult video section is good enough, with a curtain to give them a bit of privacy. Not that they’ll be doing anything indecent...yet. For now, it’s just G.regg giving A.ngus’s guts lots of attention and loving, helping the gurgling mass break down all of the live meat still inside. And it steadily shrinks back, letting out harsh, loud noises as it breaks down the random and unfortunate customers who ended up being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And with a bit of time, they’re gut slop pumping through the bear’s bowels. A.ngus’s sweater only half fits over his belly, and it’s still sloshing and gurgling wetly. Especially with G.regg’s paws squishing over it and shaking it around, which gets small, bubbly burps from his boyfriend. A.ngus has to take G.regg by the paws to make him stop, and he leads the fox out of the adult section and out the back of the store. There are dumpsters back there and it’s the only thing that A.ngus can use after meals like this. He wiggles his pants down and, with a bit of help from G.regg, gets himself up on the dumpster with his ass over the edge. With a soft grunt, and a good, hard push, a massive log of shit begins to slide out of A.ngus and into the dumpster below. And once he gets started, it’s easy to keep going. The mass of waste steadily heaps up in the dumpster below, bones and clothes baked into the mess and giving it odd lumps that get little grunts out of A.ngus. It rarely breaks off naturally, only doing so when its own weight drags it down. All the while, G.regg is watching from the front, paws all over A.ngus’s gut as he feels it shrink a bit from dumping the weight. Finally, A.ngus lets out a sigh as he pinches off the last of the mess. G.regg helps him down and he pulls up his pants while the fox looks at the leftover mess. “Woof! Look at all that, Cap’n! Hard to think it used to be a bunch of people, huh?” He looks over at A.ngus with a big grin. A.ngus just sighs slightly through his nose and reaches past G.regg to close the dumpster. “You’re very strange, Bug,” the bear says. “Let’s go home. It smells back here.” He takes the fox’s paw and walks off, knowing that G.regg is going to be all over him for the rest of the night. Not that he minds. He’d just rather be somewhere more comfortable when it happens.

Chief Bogo makes no hint about how he feels as he looks over files in his office. One would think that it’s a completely normal day for him and...well, it is. But sitting at his desk with a massive, bulging gut before him isn’t the most usual. It was an employee performance review day, and as usual for these days, some officers had to be...let go. Always a difficult choice, though the chief’s stomach didn’t have such issues making them. A belch rumbles out of Bogo but he doesn’t react to it beyond a slurp over his lips afterward. Tastes like polar bear still, which makes sense, given that’s what went down most recently. He’s fighting plenty hard in there, though if he’d made even half that effort in his work, he wouldn’t be down there in the first place. Most officers who take the plunge kick and thrash like nothing else. They don’t often enjoy being reduced to food, especially to an herbivore. Well, not like that’s going to save the bear, or the other officers who went down before him. Bogo knows that none of them will be moving by the end of the day. Hell, they likely won’t even be alive by then. Bogo sets the files he’s pouring over aside with a sigh and leans back in his chair to start rubbing over his gut. “Well, looks like this is all I get today. See how easy it was to just keep doing your job right? Your fellow officers were able to do it!” Several angry, muffled voices yell out at the same time, impossible to understand with the deep, rumbling gurgling on top of that. Not that Bogo really cares. Anything they have to say doesn’t matter. Once he’s done ‘processing’ these terminations, that’ll be the end of it. Though, he is starting to consider if he should be hiring so many...large species as officers. His gut is massive because of it, and he’s just thankful his chair hasn’t given out from under him. He grinds his paws a bit deeper into his stomach, giving another thick belch into the air. He can feel some faint twitching give into stillness down below. That’s one officer down. Just a few more, who are all waning on their energy. Everyone else at the station knows not to bother Bogo at all and instead be grateful no one else was called into his office. The heavy gurgles that just barely get past the door and the occasional roaring belch still keeps anyone who happens to be within ear shot a bit on edge. A reminder of what happens if they can’t do their job well. At the end of the day, when most officers are coming in for the nightshift, Bogo lumbers out of his office while rubbing over his much smaller, rounder gut. Most officers don’t spend long looking at him as he walks off. Bogo has enough decency to take his business to one of the bathrooms and settle himself down in a stall. Though...after his meal, it won’t make much of a difference. The first heavy log that comes slithering out of the chief’s ass fills the bowl instantly, and the buffalo lets out a snort as he simply starts to raise his ass and keep unloading. The officers he ate make for a very large, heavy mass of dung. The logs are nearly a foot thick and packed in densely, with large, tough bones in each one. The toilet gets smothered in water buffalo shit rather quickly, and Bogo steps forward as he just keeps unloading the mass. He grumbles to himself every time he has to strain and push a bit harder over certain awkward shapes stretching him out. But he’s been doing this for long enough that it’s hardly a challenge for him. The stench he’s making is harder to put up with than actually dumping the men off. By the time the last log is dropping out of Bogo, he’s no longer standing in the stall, instead just outside of it and holding the door open. The pile he’s made is half-filling the space. Half-buried skulls and faded, ruined badges among the other indigestibles means anyone who happens to investigate this stall will know which of their coworkers failed the evaluation. Bogo hikes his pants back up and lets the stall door close as he walks off.

A deep, wet belch echoes across the otherwise silent ship. It’s soon replaced by the sound of deep, rumbling laughter. W.olf O’Donnell gives his engorged gut a few rough smacks, making it wobble slightly and earned a muffled shout from whoever he just hit. He doesn’t really care, showing off a toothy grin. “Well, that’s the last of your crew, M.ccloud,” he rumbles out, glaring down at the smaller fox pinned beneath the weight of his gut. “I told you that birdbrain would taste like chicken. So, whaddya have to say now, hm?” He leans in closer, purposefully pressing down on both his gut and the man under it. It feels good to finally get one over on the massive thorn in his side. That’s why Fox had to be last, had to watch the rest of his loyal and trusting friends disappear down W.olf’s gullet. To really, truly drill it in that W.olf has finally--ptui! “Ack!” W.olf jerks his head back. Fox had spit in his face when he leaned in, and is now mean-mugging the mercenary as he wipes his face off. W.olf growls softly, looking down at the pilot. “Still a child...heh, well, I can do that, too.” His expression turns quickly, back into a smug grin as he leans in again. This time, W.olf opens wide, puffing hot breath into Fox’s face as he gives the pilot a slow slurp with his tongue. “Mmmm...” A pleased sound rumbles out of W.olf. He knew he was right to save Fox for last...but now there’s no more waiting. Even with the rest of the team in his guts, one lick of his rival has his gut growling like a starved beast. So W.olf clamps his jaws down over Fox’s head, ignoring his yells, and begins to swallow. He’d take more of his time but he wanted Fox to get to his gut while his friends were still alive. That doesn’t mean W.olf speeds through it, though. He’s careful to get at least one taste of whatever part of Fox enters his maw as he guzzles his rival down. Even then, it ends all too soon. W.olf’s head is tipped back, maw wide open and drooling, a pair of twitching feet poking out of them. With a growl and a snap of his jaws, he swallows them down, and his gut balloons with a wet slosh as Fox is squished in along with his team. W.olf keeps his head back to let out a howl of victory. It’s short lived as his jaws wrench open in a deep, guttural belch that echoes through the empty ship. A new muffled voice and set of bulges come from his engorged gut now. He puts his paw over the shape of Fox’s face and pushes down on it with a massive grin, causing his gut to slosh and squelch loudly. Everyone makes more noise and kicks around but W.olf just chuckles deeply. “Finally...I’ve got you now, S.tarFox. And I’m not letting you get away this time...” W.olf sits back, leaning against the wall and folding his arms behind his head. He’d sleep if he wasn’t so excited still, watching his guts work. It takes time, but steadily, the wet, churning sounds get louder and harsher. The muffled voices of his meals fade out steadily, growing weaker and harder to hear. The bulges they make shift with less intensity and even begin to sink in on themselves. As time passes. W.olf’s gut grows round and smooth, sounding more liquid than anything. When the first of his meals stops twitching, his gut begins to shrink, and he feels the rest of them give in the same. They soften and melt and die, and each pumps away into him. When he feels the last sporadic twitches fall into stillness, he can’t help but laugh. He’s finally won. The next time someone gets into contact with the ship, W.olf is long gone. But he’s left his mark. A video call starts up, and it’s quite a shock for the caller. In the pilot’s seat is a heap of fresh W.olf shit, thick logs heaped up in a small mountain. Bits of uniform, fur, feathers, and bone can be identified. So can four skulls, each half buried somewhere in the pile. A frog, a hare, a bird, and sitting near the top, a fox. Of course, that’s the easy to recognize bits of the S.tarFox crew. No one else will realize they’re looking at them every time a fattened W.olf makes himself known.