#milovore

M.ilo sighs and wipes some sweat from his brow. It’s been a hard day of work out on the farm. But it’s getting be about lunchtime, and the low rumbling coming from his abs tells him it’s gonna be a big one. Just as well, he’s got to get some more manure produced anyway before he can get back to work. He should have some volunteered P.okemon around here somewhere…

“Ah, there ya are!” M.ilo smiles as he spots one of them working in the fields. It’s a massive V.enusaur, standing tall and wide. He’s built soft, obviously having muscle but most of it hidden under some plush heft. The grumpy face on the V.enusaur doesn’t shift even when he looks down at the farmer. Despite M.ilo’s size, the V.enusaur stands taller and wider than him.

“Need me for something..?” V.enusaur rumbles, looking down at the gym leader. Other than M.ilo, most of the workers on the farm are anthropomorphic P.okemon, usually around because they’re retired from battling or are more suited for this type of work. This V.enusaur is an example of the former, still covered in battle scars but not able enough for combat. Of course, M.ilo has a secondary use for them beyond labor...

M.ilo reaches up and pulls on the leaf on the V.enusaur’s head, making it bend down with a soft grunt. “Yep, it’s lunch time and I gotta work on manure production. Thanks for all the help, yer retired now!” M.ilo’s maw opens wide before the V.enusaur. It looks far too small to fit the massive P.okemon...but a good, hard shove wedges its head inside regardless.

V.enusaur puts his large hands on M.ilo’s shoulders, grunting as he tries to pull away. The farmer’s jaws are already up to his ears and despite the thick tongue slurping over his face over and over, he can’t get out of the tight jaws’s grip. And once that first swallow happens, dragging his head fully into M.ilo’s gullet, escape becomes even more impossible.

Thick, wet gulps ring out that suck the V.enusaur deeper. His soft pecs get chewed on a few times, earning a pleased rumble from M.ilo. His hands come down to cup the V.enusaur’s ass, giving it a few squeezes while he shoves. The Vensaur’s arms are pinned down, and M.ilo is already sucking on that heavy gut with a big grin. His volunteers always taste so good after a day of working in the sun and working up a sweat...

M.ilo finally tips his head back, working V.enusaur’s ass into his jaws. Thick legs kick in the air above him but they’re disappearing down the hatch as he slurps them down. His stomach is bloating out before him, his abs stretching easily around the massive P.okemon he’s picked as his first course. V.enusaur is grunting and groaning softly as he gets tightly packed up in the farmer’s gut.

With a few more slllllrp!’s and a big, final GLNK!, the V.enusaur disappears past M.ilo’s lips. His massive feet bulge out the farmer’s gullet for a moment longer before disappearing past his massive chest and winding up a bulge packed up in his middle.

M.ilo thumps his chest a few times to blast out a fragrant “BWWWWOOOOOUUUUURRRRRPPPPP!!!!” into the air. A bit of pollen puffs out of his maw. Down below, his gut is stretched almost vacuum sealed around the V.enusaur, who is curled up uncomfortably tight inside. M.ilo’s stomach is a powerhouse and the tight, squeezing walls are already showing that off. It’s a well-trained machine that knows exactly what to do with meat.

“Alright, let's see how much ya make!” M.ilo grins and pats his gut a few times, patting over the muzzle of the V.enusaur. The big beast lets out a slight whine as the stomach walls squeeze over him tightly again. All of the P.okemon working the farm are very aware that this is how it’ll end for them. M.ilo is shameless in it and will often do it in front of others. But that doesn’t mean they’re all excited for such an end themselves.

M.ilo’s mulcher of a gut squeezes down hard enough that a solid crack rings out, followed by a loud roar from the V.enusaur. He’d likely be struggling more if it weren’t so compact, but as it is, he can barely move. His life is flashing before him—every battle, every victory, every time he opened wide and plunged some screaming, roaring, snarling opponent down into his guts. The sounds ring in his ears almost as loud as his own roaring and crunching as M.ilo’s gut mulches him.

Every hard flex makes M.ilo’s stomach shrink a few more inches, breaking down the soft but sturdy body of the old V.enusaur with little issue. The roars become more pathetic and fearful as his body is destroyed steadily by the clenching, squeezing walls. Boiling slop starts to surge over the V.enusaur’s head with every tight clench, making it so he can’t even voice his distress without bubbling and sputtering.

“HWWWWOOOOUUUUURRRRPPPPPP!!!!” Another beefy belch roars out of M.ilo after another clench brings out a dull crunching sound. Some torn flower petals flicker from M.ilo’s jaws and flutter down. His gut is much smaller and rounder now, some bones bulging out his lower gut. But they don’t stay for long, the messy chugging and squelching sounds signaling all that V.enusaur slop pumping through him. The bulges sink in as the rest of his stomach does, steadily forming that prized manure.

Finally, M.ilo lowers his shorts and squats down. He’s not bothered about where he leaves the manure piles since they have to get collected and bagged up regardless. Easier to make them all now then handle the meticulous parts later. So with a grunt and some pushing, a thick log of crap begins to crown. And once the first log comes squeezing out, the rest of the V.enusaur follows along at a rapid pace.

The pile heaps up quickly, many bones and scraps of flower petals littering the muck. M.ilo’s body always worked fast and made sure there was lots of manure left over, so that hefty V.enusaur is making for a big pile. The only thing that gives M.ilo any trouble is the bulky skull, but an extra hard push forces it out and into the dung with a squelch. A few more logs slop out after that and he’s done.

“Now that’s a mighty fine batch!” M.ilo says with a grin, waving the air away as he does. A loud, demanding gurgle comes from his gut and he pats it. It’s hanging off his frame more than usually, now a rounded paunch. “Guess I could make a bit more, though. Let’s see...” He’s already walking off, leaving the pile to sit in the fields for the time being. It’ll get cleaned up eventually.

M.ilo spots his next batch in the making—a tubby G.engar that’s sleeping under a tree. He’s a ‘problem P.okemon’ that got sent to M.ilo. Didn’t listen well or seem to care about battling. He’s stuck around so far because his levitating and phasing through objects can be real useful, but he’s also a lazy bum and M.ilo’s decided on a much better use for him.

Coming up to the ghost, M.ilo puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head. The big guy is snoring away under the shade, arms folded under his head. Looks like he’s been snacking, too. Ah well, the G.engar is off to better things now. Not bothering to wake him up, M.ilo lifts up the ghost’s legs and crams his feet into his maw.

M.ilo is at least gentle, carefully hefting the G.engar up as he eats without disturbing him. He’s already working his way up the ghost’s shins and getting to his thighs, his mouth forced to stretch more and more to accommodate the growing heft. By the time he’s getting over the G.engar’s ass, he’s lifted the whole ghost up and tipped his head back to let gravity help work his meal down.

Progress slows a bit once M.ilo has to focus on that giant gut, each gulp sucking in another few inches of fat. It’s steadily squeezing the G.engar down, who’s still snoring lazily without realizing the situation. He doesn’t wake up even when M.ilo gulps down the last bits of his gut and then chugs down his moobs soon after.

By then, the G.engar’s arms are lifting over his head. He starts to come to once his head sinks back in and M.ilo’s tongue starts to slurp over his face. The G.engar grumbles and winces a bit before cracking an eye open. He gets to see the tree he’d been sleeping against, framed by his own arms and M.ilo’s teeth. The G.engar’s scream goes unheard as a wet gulp overpowers it and his head becomes a bulge slithering down M.ilo’s neck.

With a wet slurp, the G.engar’s flailing arms are sucked down and he disappears fully. A pleased sigh escapes M.ilo once he feels the last of the ghost slosh into his gut. Unlike the V.enusaur, the G.engar has a much easier time wiggling around and shouting. He’s now saying stuff like ‘I’ll stop taking breaks’ and ‘Give me another chance’ but M.ilo isn’t listening much.

Instead, the farmer has braced himself against the tree and starts to grind his gut against it. The G.engar screeches inside when he feels the pressure pick up, bulges now shifting along M.ilo’s stomach as he flails around madly. M.ilo groans and closes his eyes, shoving harder against the tree. “C’mon, now, no need to be so difficult! I’m just gonna pump ya into a fresh load of manure!”

That doesn’t do much to settle the panicking ghost. Ghost types like G.engar can be a bit harder to break down than normal P.okemon due to their physiology, but M.ilo handles that by just getting a little rougher. Each hard grind and shove against the tree is helping the ghost’s body break down as he struggles to maintain his form. When the G.engar notices his body falling apart and the bubbling, purple muck that’s starting to fill the space around him, he starts screaming again.

“BWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLCCHH!!!!!” A rumble belch rolls out of M.ilo, a thick smog puffing in the air with some purple quills flickering out as well. M.ilo winces slightly at the smell. Poison types never do smell pretty, even compared to his usual process. He grinds his gut hard against the tree again, feeling the solid mass give a bit more with a wet squelch. The G.engar inside is a whimpering mess, his voice bubbling every time he makes a noise. He’s falling apart real fast...

M.ilo huffs a bit, pressing in hard again. His guts squelch wetly, already rounder and softer, the G.engar more liquid than solid. “We’re almost there, big fella,” M.ilo grunts, giving his abs a clench this time to help packed the G.engar deeper. “Just work with me here...then you can do aaaaall the lazin’ ‘round yer heart desires!”

The G.engar whines and cries out weakly, some garbled attempt at pleading for mercy that’s barely audible over the squelches and churns of his body breaking down. M.ilo barely notices it. He presses his guts hard against the tree, blasting out another smoggy “OOOOOOOOOUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPPP!!!!!” into the air. He knows the G.engar is good and processed by that point only because the belch smells just a smidge worse than the first one.

Things move fast from there. M.ilo’s round, gurgling guts quickly shrink down with messy, sloppy chugging noises. All that G.engar slop pumps right through him, and much like the old V.enusaur, nearly all of it is converted into fresh manure. What isn’t has given the farmer a bit of a pot belly. M.ilo squats down by the tree, dropping his shorts and once again exposing his ass as he feels the rush of mass shooting lower.

Soft shit slops out of him, splattering against the tree and quickly starting to heap up. As expected, the smell in the air is noxious. Even for a Poison type, this is pretty bad, but that’s to be expected with G.engar. Hardly the first of them M.ilo has flushed through his mulcher! He’s plenty used to the process and the nasty parts that come with it, so despite how much waste is made, the G.engar slops out relatively quickly and he’s done in only a few minutes.

The heaping pile left behind is mostly a uniform mass, certainly a lot less solid than the previous pile of manure. No bones and the like to speak of, but there are a few stray purple quills poking out here or there. The only thing that helps signify the shitpile used to be a living being. M.ilo looks at the mess, smiles, tips his hat, and then walks off. This is a good start, but he should get a bit more to be safe!

It takes a bit of walking around and watching some of the other working P.okemon, all of which look nervous whenever the farmer’s gaze lingers on them for too longer, until M.ilo spots something that makes it guts gurgle. It’s a C.orviknight, big and bulky, who works more as a protector and supervisor on the farm. With so many P.okemon around, it helps to have others who can do a bit of managing for M.ilo. Still doesn’t protect them from his gut...

The C.orviknight perks up when he sees M.ilo approaching and gives a nod to him. “Afternoon. I’ve got things running smoothly over here but if you need anything, I can--” He cuts himself off with a soft yelp as M.ilo tugs roughly on his arm, dragging him down to the farmer’s level.

“I just need some manure today!” M.ilo reassures with a chipper tone. His drooling maw opens wide and the C.orviknight can only stare into it with a stupid expression as it lunges down for him.

It’s a relatively easy meal, despite the considerable bulk of the burly C.orviknight. The normally stoic bird is left so stunned by the act, that he doesn’t even struggle, letting M.ilo work him down with ease. The farm moans in approval as he gets to taste over that well trained meat, slurping on his pecs and over his muscle gut as he chugs it down.

If M.ilo recalls right, this C.orviknight used to work for the taxi services, but decided to switch to helping M.ilo run the farm. He’s one of the older workers here, even considering the high turnover rate. It must have been long enough to make the C.orviknight complacent, think he was safe or off the menu. He was wrong, of course.

M.ilo’s gut bulges out as the C.orviknight starts to pack inside, the sharp edges and contours of his body easily stretching the farmer out. His ass is being gnawed on at this point, but it’s only a few moments of tasting. M.ilo tosses his head back with a wet slurp, suddenly sucking down his meal’s thick legs and packed it up tightly in his groaning tank.

The C.orviknight is still completely frozen, even after getting tightly packed up in M.ilo’s groaning guts. The walls squeeze and churn around him, already plenty warmed up after mulching down two other P.okemon. His powerful body and strong steel plating won’t save him from being mulched like everyone else. He just can’t accept that fact still...

Not that he’ll have a choice. Where its through being crushed like a can or smelted like steel, M.ilo’s gut is going to take all that he is and use him for another fresh batch of manure. When the first grisly sound of metal creaking and crunching comes from M.ilo’s stomach, it’s like a switch was flipped. The C.orviknight is soon incredibly animated, screeching and writhing madly in M.ilo’s gut.

“Woah there!” M.ilo stumbles a bit feeling his batch-in-the-making fighting for his life. He presses his hands down roughly on his gut, shoving the C.orviknight back down into place with a few more screeching and crunching noises. “BWWWWWWWWWWWEEEEEUUURRRRRRRRRRRPP!!!!!” A noxious belch roars out of M.ilo, thick fumes puffing from his maw as his stomach works on all of that iron. His meal has settled in now, other than some meek squawking or cawing that’s drowned out by the thick bubbling sounds of his working tank.

Steadily, M.ilo’s stomach starts to shrink down and round out. He helped it settle the meal fast and now its churning it down with ease. The C.orviknight can only offer a few more meak twitches and pathetic pleas before the farmer’s gut completely overpowers him. Thick slurry is already pumping lower and M.ilo squats down in preparation for what’s to come.

After a bit of waiting, M.ilo can feel a solid mass sinking downward. He winces a little and pushes, feeling a very solid and dense mass squeezing out of him. The Corvikngiht made for a very thick shit, the whole thing tight packed despite how large it is. Bits of corroded metal and bones tickle M.ilo slightly on the way out, but they’re also very tightly packed in the mass. He barely even notices when its skull slides out, the top of it peeking out of a nearly black log.

M.ilo huffs softly through his nose once he feels the log pinch off cleanly. He stands up again, his gut wobbling as he does. He’s gained even more heft, his shirt riding up his stomach even without a P.okemon packed inside. He pats the side of it a couple times and smiles as it bounces. That’s three huge manure piles so far but...hm...yeah, he thinks he can do just one more. He’ll make it a good one...

It takes a bit of looking around and scouting, judging the size and build of every P.okemon around the farm. Some of them definitely look like they’d be good manure and even make his stomach growl...but he sees the real last pile he wants, leaning on a fence after having clearly done some hard labor.

A massive T.errakion wipes his brow with the back of his hand. Sweat trickles off of his muscles, which are sore from a few hours of hard work. He’s massive, even compared to some of the other P.okemon on the farm. He’s been here to longest, one of M.ilo’s more diligent workers and strongest P.okemon in the crew. The T.errakion is almost invaluable to the team...but he’s also going to make a lot of very rich, healthy manure.

M.ilo’s drooling as he comes over, the thick, rich scent in the air making his stomach rumble. He feels like he’s starving, and there’s no more resisting the desire to devour this absolutely perfect meat. His stomach is demanding it. He comes right up to T.errakion, offering him no words. But just one look at the farmer tells the Legendary everything he needs to know--he’s manure now.

T.errakion tenses, his hands gripping onto the fence tightly. He always expected this to be a possibility, but that doesn’t mean he’s eager about it. His grip isn’t going to deter M.ilo, though, who simply grabs the T.errakion by the ankles and hoists it up to his drooling maw. His stomach practically roars for meat as he crams the Legendary’s feet in.

It’s every bit as delicious as M.ilo suspected to it to be. He groans happily and takes a thick gulp, starting to work his way up T.errakion’s shins. The Legendary grits his teeth and tries to pull himself out, hoping that if he can somehow stop M.ilo from eating him, the farmer will simply give it up and let him live another day. But the tight grip of M.ilo’s gullet makes it impossible to get more than a quarter of an inch before another thick gulp sucks him deeper.

As M.ilo starts to reach T.errakion’s knees, the Legendary’s feet enter his stomach. It roars to life with heavy noises...and the T.errakion’s eyes widen. There’s a sudden, intense warmth and a sharp sting and then...nothing. Numbness overtakes everything below the ankle. M.ilo seems to notice it as well before he winces and lowers his pants, starting to squeeze out a thick log of crap while he starts climbing up T.errakion’s thighs.

That’s enough to finally crack through T.errakion’s tense calm and he starts loudly roaring for M.ilo to stop. Despite his attempts to sound intimidating, he’s clearly panicked, and his fingers dig harder into the fence post. His demands to stop echo through the farm, but M.ilo keeps gulping, moaning softly as he tastes the meaty thighs of the Legendary, all while the T.errakion’s lower legs boil away and squeeze out of M.ilo’s ass.

M.ilo doesn’t slow down, jaws stretching to take in T.errakion’s waist and ass. The Legendary roars out again, his arms shaking as he keeps trying to desperately pull himself free. He can feel M.ilo gnaw on his ass and it makes his cheeks burn hot, but a few wet gulps suck it down and he can instead feel M.ilo starting to take in his soft, bulky stomach. T.errakion keeps losing ground, and the heap is growing higher and higher behind M.ilo, leaving an increasingly powerful thick stench in the air.

M.ilo keeps traveling up, groaning the entire time over the immense pleasure of T.errakion’s taste. The Legendary’s arms shake more, his body tense and dripping in sweat. Tears sting his eyes as he just tries to focus on pulling out. His legs are completely gone, M.ilo is over halfway up his stomach, and he can feel that stinging and then numb sensation over his hips. There was no going back the moment M.ilo got his feet in his jaws, and T.errakion knew that, but his body still demands he fight for survival.

T.errakion’s gut is gone, the last of it slurped down, and now his massive pecs are squeezing into M.ilo’s jaws. They’re tasted and chewed over, more pleased moans coming from the farmer. T.errakion huffs and pants, his eyes drooping, exhaustion setting in hard. More shit slops out of M.ilo, an entire pelvis coming with it. The pile is already massive, easily as big as the other three, and there’s still plenty more T.errakion to go.

M.ilo finally reaches up and seizes the T.errakion by the horns roughly. The Legendary grunts and forces out a final plea. “S...Stop...” M.ilo’s grip tightens on the T.errakion’s horns and he shoves down hard. His pecs plunge down and most of his stomach enters M.ilo’s, immediately being boiled away and starting to slop out the back. T.errakion groans weakly, staring out through M.ilo’s jaws whenever that tongue isn’t slurping over his face. His shaking arms finally go limp and M.ilo tosses his head back with a massive gulp.

Lots of thick shit heaps up behind M.ilo, and soon, a ribcage squeezes out of him. M.ilo slurps hard, sucking down T.errakion’s arms. As the fingers slip past his lips, a giant, bulky skull squeezes out and lands with a large thud behind M.ilo. More thick shit drapes over the top of it as T.errakion’s arms follow, and M.ilo lets out a pleased groan as he does it.

The farmer stands up again and stretches out. His gut bounces from it, hanging down heavily. His shirt doesn’t even begin to fit over it anymore, but at least the thing is finally sated. The heap of shit behind M.ilo is bigger than himself and will definitely be preserved for his own fields. He looks at the pile with a smile and sighs contently. “Thanks for that, big fella. Was just what I needed!” He tips his hat to the pile and walks off.

L.ance remains about as unimpressed as he suspected he would be. After making due on his promise to check the other gym leaders in G.alar after he processed L.eon and R.aihan, L.ance can confidently say that they are sorely lacking.

M.ilo had been easily the least trouble. L.ance had wiped the farmer’s team with only his D.ragonite, even after telling him not to hold back. Given how fast the battle was, L.ance made sure the aftermath went by just as fast. Despite being taller, bigger, and likely stronger than him, L.ance effortlessly overpowered M.ilo and forced the leader’s head into his maw.

The only effort he took to work down was getting past M.ilo’s bulky shoulders. After that, it was easy to work down his thick chest and over his abs. The farmer’s ass was framed by L.ance’s jaws for a few seconds, but a thick gulp sucked it down, and then the man’s muscular legs are sent down after.

L.ance crosses his arms over his gut as the last gulp rings out. His abs bloat out again, sloshing wetly as his stomach surges forward. M.ilo is at least a rather heavy meal, so he’s doing something right. But his muffled pleas for a rematch fall on deaf ears, and his shifting and squirming only resulted in bulges stretching out L.ance’s gut harmlessly.

A mighty belch rings out, M.ilo’s hat flying from L.ance’s maw and splatting on the ground. He crosses his arms over his stomach and closes his eyes. His guts begin to broil and churn wetly, earning a muffled yelp from his prey. L.ance might have let his meal kick around a bit longer, enjoyed it more, but he’s on business right now. M.ilo is a bit too bulky a prey for L.ance to carry around though.

So, the dragon tamer’s gut begins to shrink down steadily. M.ilo kicks around, thrashing with all his might. And for his credit, it does earn a second booming belch out of L.ance. A sneaker flies out, bouncing along the ground. By then, though, L.ance’s gut was already a fourth the size smaller, and M.ilo was melting into a boiling slush. By the time it’s half the size, M.ilo’s great frame gives a final shudder before going slack, leaving L.ance’s gut round and sloshing.

By the time L.ance had walked out of the gym, his stomach flattens out again with a low gurgle, the farmer utterly dominated. L.ance had two more marks on his check list though, and he hopes they’re more impressive than the farmer had been. Or at least just as filling.

K.abu was a bit of a harder match, which is something L.ance was at least mildly impressed with. He still wiped the floor with the Fire-type gym leader, but it’s clear his age and experience keep him running smooth. Just not enough to defeat L.ance, which means K.abu is going to follow after his fellow gym leaders.

He didn’t fight it, though. L.ance hoisted the older man up and into his jaws, thick gulps sending him down. He’s a much easier meal than M.ilo had been. Two gulps, and L.ance is at K.abu’s thighs. So he tosses his head back and slurps him down. His abs stretch again, gurgling lightly as the gym leader settles inside. L.ance can respect a man understanding his place in the food chain, so while M.ilo got the quick end, K.abu was left to stew. L.ance’s gut would slosh around as he moved, shameless belches roaring out of him as he makes his way to the last gym he plans to test.

G.ordie had more confidence than L.ance really thought he earned. It didn’t last long. Perhaps it was watching his precious Rock types getting reduced to rubble. Or maybe it was because L.ance was digesting K.abu through the entire match, the detailed bulge steadily becoming rounder and smaller. Belching up one of the gym leader’s sneakers while commanding his P.okemon sure seemed to get a shudder out of G.ordie. It was enough to keep him too distracted from fighting well. Not a good look to L.ance.

So once, he’s wiped the floor with the man, it’s no surprise that G.ordie does try to leave. But L.ance’s gut is empty again, just a set of abs that are gurgling for more meat to boil. G.ordie is seized from behind, head engulfed in steaming jaws, and L.ance begins to pack the man away. Goride is a bit squisher than L.ance’s usual meal options, but that isn’t much of an issue for him. A bit of gnawing with his sharp teeth over G.ordie’s gut gets it down the hatch. It also makes the gym leader really kick around, but it was far too late for that. His thick legs are slurped down and he drops into L.ance’s stomach. The champion slurps along his lips as he rubs over his stomach. These gym leaders have done nothing to impress him...best make sure the one who put them in their position knows that...

When L.ance had gotten to Chairman R.ose’s office, his gurgling stomach has only just flattened out again, the last of G.ordie pumped away into energy. So R.ose doesn’t seem to suspect anything, greeting L.ance with a pleasant smile. He usually doesn’t accept walk-ins, but for the champion of both K.anto and J.ohto, he’ll allow it. Of course when L.ance decides to tell him what he’s thinking, all that comes out of his mouth is a streaming belch and G.ordie’s glasses, which clack and bounce on R.ose’s desk. Well...L.ance figures actions speak louder than words.

"Like this?" M.ilo asks, folding his massive arms behind his head. He's a little flustered by it, especially with the phone flittering around him, but he had promised R.aihan to help him with one of those 'streams' today. He didn't fully get it--M.ilo had never taken much interest in the Internet and its inner workings--but a promise was a promise. Even if it meant he had to be shirtless...

"Perfect!" R.aihan says with a grin. "Hold that pose, big guy. I'll be right back." With a big grin, the fellow gym leader leaves the locker room. M.ilo was flustered by the phone still capturing his form, but he couldn't think of anything to say to it, so he simply stood there waiting. R.aihan did eventually come back, though. With guests, even!

"These six are today's lucky guests!" R.aihan says to his phone. "So with their help, we'll be giving everyone an exclusive look at how M.ilo gets that big, burly bod of his."

M.ilo's face goes pink. "Huh? What do you mean? What are--nnff!" M.ilo groans and tenses a bit as he feels people on him. Those 'guest stars' had surrounded him while he was distracted. Two had planted their faces right into the man's exposed pits a third was fondling his chest.

"We've got two groups here!" R.aihan goes on. "And they're going to be racing to see who can last longer in M.ilo's body. Looks like group one is already getting acquainted."

"Th-They're what?" M.ilo asks. He's not against free food--what g.ym leader doesn't snack on their opponents from time to time?--but this was a bit sudden for him. He doesn't get to think about it before he feels people pushing into him, a pair of heads sinking into his pits and hands shoving their way between his pecs. He groans and closes his eyes, flexing his muscles and quickly sucking more of his prey in. It only takes three tight flexes to totally put them away.

"Look at that!" R.aihan says, grinning. "Didn't even take a minute for him to pack away some guys. Let's see how long they can last against his grinding muscles."

The answer was--not long. The post R.aihan has M.ilo in doe a good job to show off his bulging pecs and biceps at the same time, so the camera catches each flex and squeeze over the wiggling lumps in the farmer's muscles. The first crunch of bones echoes out from his chest after only a few flexes, and his arms follow suit. Each flex after that comes with a cacophony of cracks and pops and crunches as those massive muscles effortlessly break down live meat into nothing but pure mass. It only takes a couple minutes before M.ilo had broken down all three men, all that remains being a bit of extra swell to his muscle mass.

"And that's time!" R.aihand says. "Now, for group two..." He turns to the last three, who seem a lot more hesitant about what's going to happen to them. They all realized that, even if they did outlast those three, there wouldn't be anything salvageable of them left anyway. But the way out is locked, and with a rather forceful hand, R.aihand forces them into M.ilo's muscles. They squirm a bit more than the first group, but M.ilo puts them away just as easily.

If anything, their struggling only makes the process faster. His pecs flex together, and there's a short scream followed by very noisy crunches. M.ilo's pecs swell a bit and there's nothing left. His arms take a few more flexes, but before long, they've done the same to the feisty meals put in as well. That wasn't even half the time and all three are gone.

"Looks like group one is the winner!" R.aihand says with a grin. "I'm sure they would appreciate that but..." He gives M.ilo's chest a few pats. "...adding to this is reward on its own, right? Maybe we'll see how he does with more meat next time! Just be ready for your chance to get crushed into mass!"

"Next time..?" M.ilo asks, still blushing softly. He's never eaten like this so publicly...but it did feel kind of nice. He wouldn't mind being in more of these 'streams' if this is what he's going to be doing on them. Heck...maybe he'll even get a chance to meet some new fans out and about. He's heard that R.aihan will gulp down anyone who asks, no matter where they are. That doesn't sound so bad to M.ilo anymore.

"Next time!" R.aihan agrees. "We'll put your muscles to the test for everyone to see!"

M.ilo whistles as he walks into the locker room. He had another day of getting battles out of the way and just finished disposing of the handful of trainers he processed. He was planning to get into the shower and unwind but he notices that there's a box sitting on a bench with his name on it. He gets gifts like this all the time so he isn't too surprised when he opens it and sees six P.okeballs inside. It seems like a nice snack for him to enjoy after a hard day of work--things like this are why he keeps a healthy supply of burlap sacks in his locker room. He takes one of the P.okeballs and casually opens it, only for the space of the room to be suddenly taken up.

A L.ugia is now sitting in front of him, the P.okemon taking up a lot of the locker room. It seems fairly confused by where it is and leans itself head down to look at M.ilo when it finally notices him. M.ilo was just as surprised, as any trainer would be by seeing a Legendary P.okemon appearing before them. But his stomach lets out a low growl and he remembers what these P.okemon are here for. M.ilo isn't one to fast food or reject a kind gift. The L.ugia's eyes widen when M.ilo's jaws suddenly yawn open and clamp down over its snout.

Muffled cries and wet gulps fill the locker room as M.ilo begins devouring his first meal as casually as he would any other. The L.ugia tries to pull away, but it's head is slurped up rather easily, and it only sinks deeper with each thick gulp from M.ilo. His stomach bloats out as its head slides inside and he begins to work his way down its shoulders and chest, pinning the mighty wings that tried to flap around. Even for something this big and powerful, though, his body works incredibly fast. It's already starting to flex and boil over the Lugia, eager to mulch it down. As M.ilo starts working over its stomach, it lets out a few panicked cries as his stomach seems to break through whatever resistance the L.egendary had and begins to melt it on the spot. With a soft grunt, M.ilo had to quickly grab one of the manure bags he had while slurping over more of his meal. His shorts come off and he squats down over the opening. With a bit of work, a thick, dense log of shit beginst o slide out between his cheeks. The L.ugia's skull emerges first, open wide in a final cry around the shit it had been baked into. Pristine white feathers are now ruined and stained brown, littering much of the waste it's been reduced to. M.ilo starts slurping up its limp haunches and tail while his body works on overtime, pumping it through him and pushing it back out with all the efficiency of a well-made machine. The tail tip disappears with a wet slurp and the gym l.eader's stomach quickly flattens out. Barely a minute later, and the last few logs of L.ugia shit squeeze out with the beast's legs and tail making it up.

Three bags of manure are set aside and the next P.okemon comes out. It's much smaller, just a M.ewtwo, and it seems relatively unimpressed with where it is and what it's looking at. It's nose twitches and it looks at the stinking bags of manure. In that moment of letting its guard down, M.ilo's deadly jaws come snapping down over its head and shoulders. The M.ewtwo is a relatively shorter meal as M.ilo throws his head back and takes a few massive gulps to send it down. His belly bloats out as he slurps up its thick tail and packed it away. A crass belch escapes him while his meal thrashes for a few good seconds. The M.ewtwo likely could have survived with teleportation, but by the time it's oriented itself, the walls close in and M.ilo's body snuffs it out in a single brutal flex. M.ilo's bowels groan and he gets the next bag, letting out a sputtering fart into it before soft shit slops out, the processed M.ewtwo filling it up fast. It's skull sits at the top of the pile, half buried in the stinking muck. Even the man-made P.okemon are delicious, M.ilo decides as he ties the bag off.

His next meal winds up being another large one, but one that he'll have a much easier time guzzling down. A might R.ayquaza is released, forced to coil up to fit in the locker room. It was the perfect position for M.ilo to grab its tail and slip it into his jaws. The big lizard, for all the roaring and thrashing it gave as a response, was little more than a massive noodle for M.ilo to slurp up. It went through his guts fast, too, with the farmer having to start pushing it back out almost as soon as it had entered his gut--it seems like the L.egendary meat he's enjoying is only making it work harder and faster. The R.ayquaza keeps fighting for its life, though, even as it sinks further down M.ilo's gullet and slides out of his muscular ass in thicker ropes of shit, its green scales tarnished by the intense ride through his guts. The dragon's roaring head goes down in a single, hard gulp, and M.ilo pushes it right back out with a deep breath. Its jaws are left open wide in its defiant roar as the bag gets tied off and left with the rest.

M.ilo's fourth meal would be a beefy U.rshifu, who seems to catch onto what's happening rather quick seeing the stinking piles of manure stacked up and the empty P.okeballs at M.ilo's feet. It tires to fight, at least, but M.ilo is still ravenous and overpowers the bear rather quick. Pinned to the wall, it goes limp as those dark jaws engulf its head. The U.rshifu was defeated by a stronger, hungrier being, and it will at least die knowing that--so it offers M.ilo no resistance as he greedily gulps and slurps down its muscular form. It bloats out his stomach for a moment as it spills in, but the grumbling organ near immediately demolishes his body, reducing it down into a thick slop that M.ilo shits out into another manure bag. Dense logs slide out, the bear's muscle mass making up two bags of manure. M.ilo was barely aware of how fast his stomach was working by now--he's hungry and he still has two more snacks to enjoy, so the U.rshifu is almost instantly forgotten once the last of him is pinched off and the g.ym leader is claiming his next meal.

A big S.olgaleo would prove a fair bit more resistant to M.ilo's tank than the rest of his Legendary brethren. A tough, steely hide would take a bit longer to break down as M.ilo works on devouring it head first. It yoewls and thrashes, back legs kicking wildly in the air as the farmer casually slurps it up like the big treat it is. His stomach bloats out as its forced down, the tank groaning and bubbling wetly as it has to work a bit harder to claim this meal. But it will...and it does. The S.olgaleo's back paws and tail go lip suddenly hanging from M.ilo's lips as his stomach flattens out with a deep groan. He sends the last bits of it down with a soft gulp and begins to dump the P.okemon back out into a few manure bags. Each log of shit is incredibly dense, but those harsh platings had cracked and melted effectively, leaving little behind beyond the manure that would be left unrecognizable as the once proud beast.

That only left one P.okeball left, and what M.ilo gets as his final reward is A.rceus itself. Easily one of the most powerful and proudest of all his meals, it should have been the one to fight back the hardest. But it didn't. There wasn't a single moment of resistance as M.ilo began to work it down by its back legs first, working up its haunches and sending its back end down fast. M.ilo didn't spend a moment to marvel the power or majesty of the P.okemon before him--he was hungry, and like the other five before, this was nothing more than food and a few bags worth of manure. So he gulps and slurps without hesitation. His stomach never bloats out once. Whatever it sent down is near instantly processed and pumped along. M.ilo is shitting A.rceus back out again by the third gulp up its legs, and the god of P.okemon is forced to smell the waste he's become as he's steadily sent down the hatch. Even so, he never resists, even as M.ilo moves up his stomach and chest, filling two then three bags with filth made from his body. The farmer's jaws close over the P.okemon's face, and there's one final gulp. And then A.rceus feels nothing at all.

It was time for some change. Chairman R.ose needed to do some revamping for the gym challenge and get rid of a few...problem characters. Luckily, he knew exactly how he wanted to handle that! His stomach growls out in agreement and he gives it a gentle rub to settle it down. They should start arriving soon.

The first one to come by is M.ilo, the big hunk of a man smiling politely as he walks into R.ose's office. The farmer clearly had no idea what he was in for. The chairman did his best to seem cordial and friendly, waiting for that perfect moment to strike. It came when he got M.ilo to reach over his desk for a handshake. R.ose takes his hand, then pulls hard, dragging the gym l.eader over his desk as he shovels that hand right into his jaws.

M.ilo screamed and tried to pull away, naturally, but R.ose's gullet proved stronger as that first thick gulp sucked M.ilo in up to his elbow. The farmer tried to get up again and pull away from the desk, but R.ose kept gulping, getting up to the shoulder and forcing M.ilo's head into his drooling jaws. The meal was easy from there as he gulps and slurps the hunk of beef down with greed. His already round stomach swells out, buttons popping off his suit as it quickly fails to hold onto his expanding gut. M.ilo makes quite a mess, knocking things off his desk and kicking a chair over, but those kicking legs are soon slurped up and he's forced down fully into R.ose's stomach.

R.ose leans back in his chair with a content sigh, his stuffed gut resting nicely in his lap while M.ilo thrashes around inside, begging to be let out. The chairman basks in the feeling of being so full of such lively prey for a good few minutes, but eventually, he has to do something about all of this. His appointments are all half an hour apart and he has some cleaning to do before the next man arrives. Some rubbing and kneading make M.ilo scream even louder, and it works out a few thick belches from R.ose. Eventually, all that thrashing settles down, and M.ilo goes silent with a few stray gurgles all to show for it. R.ose has an easier time moving around and cleaning up after that, though the size of his gut does get in the way a bit. By the time he's settled down again, M.ilo has gotten much softer and is well on his way to padding out the chairman's figure. Just in time for the next appointment.

K.abu is clearly more suspicious as he walks in. Seeing the chairman with an unusually engorged stomach, completely exposed given the lack of most buttons of his suit, seems to be setting off alarm bells for the fire-type gym l.eader. But he doesn't leave, either, instead sitting down. R.ose doesn't wait as long this time, meandering to the other side of his desk and carefully undoing his tight belt buckle. K.abu doesn't notice until the chairman's ass is coming down over his head, and by then, it's too late. With some moans and wet squelched, he's disappearing right up R.ose's bowels. The chairman slides down his torso with some wiggling and relaxes as he finds himself sitting comfortably. K.abu's legs kick around between his own, but a few flexes of his ass slurp those up and pack him away. He'll be left to squirm around in the chairman's bowels for a little while, but he'd be long dead by the time P.iers came by.

At this point, R.ose's gut is too large to really ignore, same for the fact that his suit is looking rather disheveled, now with his belt unable to close over his waist. R.ose tries to deflect and act like nothing is amiss, but his guts bubble wetly and he belches up M.ilo's hat. The facade drops rather fast and the rock star gets pinned to the wall by that stomach after trying to leave. P.iers got to scream for help just once before his head is engulfed and he's being greedily slurped down. Being so skinny, he makes for an easy meal, and he didn't survive too long in the caustic mixture of his fellow gym leaders. A bassy belch not five minutes later and he goes slack in the chairman's guts.

At that point, it's basically impossible to try and hide what he's done. When Gordie comes by, he immediately tries to leave, but R.ose pulls him back and begins to scarf him down just like the rest. He's another big meal like M.ilo, and R.ose knows he's going to be a real calorie bomb just like the farmer, but at this point he doesn't care at all. He just wants the man down the hatch and churning away. It takes some effort to hoist him off the ground, but once he does, R.ose is able to throw his head back and send his latest course down the hatch. His gut bounces and sloshes as G.ordie is dropped in and a nasty belch shakes the door in its frame as a pair of sunglasses fly out of the chairman's jaws.

This meal proved harder to melt, though, and R.ose was still trying to knead G.ordie into place when R.aihan walks in. Unlike the others who tried to run, the dragon-type gym l.eader opts to trying to fight R.ose. But with so much new weight to simply throw around, it doesn't take R.ose very long to knock R.aihan onto his back and smother him under his fattening ass. A bit of wiggling and a pop later, and R.aihan is left to thrash around like a madman as he's pulled into R.ose's ass. The chairman moans shamelessly, not caring anymore how he looks as he indulges in his greed. By the time he's standing up again, he's got a pair of kicking shins hanging from behind his cheeks. They get slurped up with ease while he discards his suit--at this point, he has no need for it. His gut is hanging heavily before him, bubbling up a storm with all that meat packed inside. G.rodie finally quit moving after getting thrown around and there's no chance R.aihan will last long in the chairman's grueling bowels. So there was only one man left to wait on.

L.eon barely makes it through the door before he's being manhandled. He's pulled in by the collar of his shirt and slammed into the wall, R.ose's gut pressing in on him to keep him down. He gets greeted with a wet belch in the face--he's the last meal on the list and R.ose can't wait any longer for it. He licks his lips, drooling as he watches realization hit L.eon. Then he engulfs the champion's head into his jaws and begins to guzzle him down like the rest. L.eon puts up a fight but it means little as the chairman waddles back to his seat, slurping up L.eon with ease. By the time he sits down, he's slurping up the champion's kicking legs, sending the last of him down the hatch and into his boiling tankard of a gut.

R.ose lets out a noxious belch, a dazed smile on his face as he relishes in his own absurd gluttony. L.eon squirms around for a bit but five gym l.eader's worth of gut sludge snuffs him out in no time. R.os drapes the champion's cape over his gut like a blanket, which he had managed to unclip while guzzling the champ down. No more meetings for today--he has a lot of processing to do, and that calls for a power nap.