#ocvore

...Brody’s brows furrow as a familiar sensation washes over him. It breaks his concentration right as he was getting into a good groove for drawing. He stares at his tablet for a moment, hoping it’ll go away, but it doesn’t. With a defeated sigh, he sinks back into his chair and puts a hand over his face. Just gotta ride it out...

After a few moments of waiting, Brody’s bedroom door opens and the expected cause of the disruption enters. His chair creaks forward as something heavy presses against the back of it. “Hey, hey, Brody, I got somethin’ real neat to show ya.”

The A.bsol sighs deeply through his nose. Yep. It’s Cheshire. Brody has to take a few seconds to get himself prepared for whatever bullshit the G.engar is doing today before he spins his chair around to face him.

Cheshire’s stomach sloshes a bit and rests in Brody’s lap from how close he was standing. As usual, Cheshire is grinning wide, gooey tongue slurping from one edge of his mouth to the other. He’s peering down at Brody from under his orange beanie. “Check this out!” Not even waiting for some kind of response, Cheshire lifts up his black shirt, exposing his fuzzy gut which is framed by his red jacket.

Brody stares at the gurgling orb sitting in his lap. It sure is Cheshire’s stomach--the G.engar shows it off any chance he gets, so Brody is well acquainted with it. It sounds like it’s working hard on something but it looks too small for it to be an actual meal. “...Cheshire, I see your stomach every day. Also, knock before you enter my room.”

“Huh?” Cheshire looks down at his gut and frowns. He grabs it tight in both hands and gives it a few hard sloshes. “C’mon, ya big bastard! You were movin’ in there just fine five minutes ago!”

Brody rolls his eyes and is about to tell Cheshire to fuck off when the G.engar’s gut suddenly bulges out. A pair of large hands and an even larger face makes the purple fur stretch slightly, a muffled cry coming from deep inside. And then it sinks back in with a wet Blllrp~! with Cheshire’s gut smoothing over again.

Okay…that has Brody’s attention now. He raises his eyebrows as he looks up at Cheshire. “Was that a Wailord? What’d you do to the damn guy to make him fit like that?” There’s no way something that massive could fit in Cheshire’s stomach without constantly bulging it out, let alone not looking any bigger than it normally does.

Cheshire’s big grin is back in full force, stretching from ear to ear on his scruffy face. “Nothin’! That’s what I wanted to show ya! I got hooked up with that whole ‘hammerspace’ thing I was tellin’ ya about!”

It takes Brody a few seconds to scrounge up any recollection of that. “…oh, right, you showed me that video.” It’d been some demonstration put on by this other streamer Brody couldn't be bothered to remember the name of. Apparently, it’s some new tech-thingie that’s been developed by the Mindwave Corporation, a massive conglomerate focused on new advancements founded by a pair of brothers, a Mew and a Mewtwo. That’s all Brody really recalls. “How’d you get your hands on something like that?”

Cheshire shrugs, making a smug face that tells Brody he’s done something he shouldn’t. “Oh, y’know, just asked about it from that guy I showed you...”

Brody deadpans. “You ate the guy and stole it, didn’t you?”

“The details aren’t important!” Cheshire says, lazily waving a hand in the air. “What is important is that it works!” He pulls a small device with a couple of buttons on it from his jacket pocket. “Just had to swallow some little machine thing and use this remote to turn it on or off. I don’t really remember all the science-y mumbo-jumbo after that but you can see that my test run went great!” He pats his gut for emphasis, the Wailord’s hands making an imprint for a moment before sinking back in.

“Anyway, I wanted to really take this bad boy for a ride!” Cheshire pockets the remote again and tugs his shirt down over his belly. “Gotta see how much I can really pack in like this. Aaaand I could really use a cameraman to help record it all so I can post it.”

...of course, that’s what Cheshire actually wanted. Brody got roped into the G.engar’s antics more often than not, and he always hated it when he was being filmed for them. At least if he were behind the camera, that solves part of the issue. The thought of just telling Cheshire to make it someone else’s problem does cross his mind for a moment, but Brody knows telling him ‘no’ just makes him more annoying. Besides...he is at least somewhat curious about this whole thing...

Brody sighs through his nose and rubs his face. “...alright, grab your camera and whatever else and let’s do this.”

Cheshire grins wide and cackles. “I knew you couldn’t resist! This’ll be great!” He finally hefts his gut off of Brody and floats out of the room, giving the A.bsol a moment to save his work and get ready to leave.

Hopefully, this is just a quick thing...but Brody gets the feeling it won’t be.

...

GLLLP! GLLLLRP! SHLLLLRP! ULLL-GLRK!

Brody watches through the camera as Cheshire takes wet, heaving gulps of his current meal. The S.laking’s legs kick around until Cheshire’s thick tongue curls around them to help drag him deeper. He’s gone relatively quickly, dragged down Cheshire’s gullet, which he shows off for the camera as usual.

“BWWWWWWAAAAARRRRRRPPP!!! Haaaa~”

Brody winces as he gets blasted by another of Cheshire’s foul belches. It’s a good thing he’s more than used to the stink of his friend...still makes him want to kick his ass, though. Brody grumbles and wipes some of the drool off the camera lens. “You don’t need to make a show of every guy you eat. You’re probably going to edit most of these out into a montage anyway.”

“Hey, I need to make sure I get the best shots I can!” Cheshire slurps over his teeth with his tongue, another soft burp escaping him soon after. He pats his gut with both hands, groaning with satisfaction. “By the way, how many was that now? I lost count.”

“And what, you think I haven’t?” Brody gripes. He takes a few steps back so he can get Cheshire’s full figure in the shot. “We must have hit a hundred by now...something like that.” Not an unusual number for Cheshire to hit when he’s going on one of his bigger binges...but it’s a very extreme ‘hundred’.

In order to really put the hammerspace device to the test, Cheshire has been purposefully picking the largest meals he could find to swallow up. The two have been wandering around the city, picking on anyone who was on the heavier side. Plenty of random people have been swept off the street and into Cheshire’s gullet. There was also that gym he tore through...and the nearby buffet place...and they’ve made a stop at just about any business that Cheshire spotted even one potential meal in. It’s led them to a local park where the last few meals were found. The G.engar is normally exceptional at eating large amounts of food in small amounts of time, but being so selective has made the ordeal take all afternoon. It’s a lot of footage at least.

But it’s not for nothing. Cheshire’s been putting the device to work. His stomach has swelled out several inches by now, enough to make his shirt ride up to about his navel and show off his fuzzy underbelly. And the damn thing is noisy. Wet gurgles and groans and churn come out of it, loud and rumbling, like a hard working machine. The sounds don’t quite match the size of his gut, but that’s to be expected.

“Hwwwwrrrpp..!” Cheshire stifles a belch into his fist, his cheeks swelling slightly from it. He pats the side of his belly a few times, making the whole thing sway in the air. It rumbles loudly and shakes, and then it’s suddenly stretching out as a roaring C.harizard suddenly presses forward. Fiery rage is written all over his expression, even through the bulge he’s making, as he desperately claws at the stomach walls around him. Cheshire grunts and flexes his stomach, making the bulge just as suddenly sink back in with another deep Glrrrrrgl~ sounding out.

Cheshire sighs softly once his guts settle again and he grins casually. “We’ll just call it a hundred for now. Sounds like a good, round number to me. Makes for a good premise. Something like...’Eating One Hundred of the Biggest Guys I Can Find Using Hammerspace Technology!’” Cheshire gestures with his hands as he speaks and Brody can’t help but roll his eyes. He’s so glad he didn’t get sucked into ‘video content creator’ as his artistic outlet. Though, he thinks calling what Cheshire does ‘artistic’ is generous...

“Does that mean we’re done?” Brody asks. “Because my feet are killing me. I can’t float everywhere.”

Cheshire scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Arceus, you’re such a baby. Yeah, yeah, we’re done walking around. We can take a break. Just get the camera set up for some digestion shots.”

Brody grumbles slightly but does as he was asked. He sets up the camera on its tripod, which he’d been carrying in a bag slung over his shoulder. Cheshire gets comfortable on a bench and it creaks loudly under his weight. Brody looks up from the camera when he hears it. “...how heavy are you, anyway? Does that hammerspice thing do anything about that?”

Cheshire’s grin widens slightly. He pats the top of his gut a few times. It bulges out again for a moment, stretching over the shape of a bulky M.amoswine’s upper body. His raging curses could be heard well through the flesh. Cheshire’s gut showed off most of his upper body, from his broad shoulders and strong arms to his thick pecs and thicker gut. There’s a few moments where he seems to be able to hold that position before the tension snaps back, and he’s quickly shoved down into the depths of the G.engar’s belly with a loud but quickly fading roar.

“BWWWWWUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPPPPP!!!!!” Another massive belch rips out of Cheshire, stinking of meat and musk. The G.engar just smacks his lips after and lets his grin return. “...why don’t you come here and find out for yourself, huh~?”

Brody frowns, not really wanting to get caught on camera because he knows Cheshire will put it in whatever stupid video he’s going to turn this into. He stares at the G.engar’s gut for a few long moments, watching as two A.rcanine push out at once, a pair of hands and a face bulging out the bottom and the top of Cheshire’s gut. With a clench and a couple of muffled yelps, they’re smooshed back down into place. Curiosity wins out and Brody sighs as he walks over.

The A.bsol starts by feeling over Cheshire’s gut, just letting his hands wander along the fuzzy dome of a surface. He even kneads into it a few times, which elicit some purring from Cheshire...as well as a few lazy belches. Nothing about Cheshire’s stomach feels different than usual. It’s a giant dome of soft, squishy fat that he can sink his hands in. The only thing strange is that he can feel how hard the stomach is working, the vibrations of it running up his arms. Finally, Brody slides his hands down and cups the underside of Cheshire’s gut so he can heft it up.

“Urk..!” Brody winces as he ends up straining himself from it. He’s able to make the whole thing slosh just slightly, but it feels like he just tried to lift a boulder or something! Brody tries again, this time putting more effort into it and widening his stance. He’s able to slightly lift up Cheshire’s gut, and he swears he can feel the weight shifting around as everything moves inside. Then his arms shake and he’s forced to drop it, letting it slosh back into place in Cheshire’s lap. Cheshire tips his head back as he lets a bubbling “UUUUUWWWWwwwrrrrrpppph!” roll out of him but that’s all the commotion was able to cause.

“Damn thing is heavy,” Brody huffs, rolling his shoulders a bit. “Guess it doesn’t get rid of the weight...just condenses it.”

“Pretty cool, ain’t it?” Cheshire asks. “If I dropped this thing on some guy’s back, I bet I’d turn him into a pancake! Or maybe just a red smear on the ground! Gyahahaha, that sounds awesome, maybe I’ll try it out!” Cheshire laughs to himself, grinning wide and smacking his stomach a few times. It seems like every time he does that, it disrupts someone in there. This time, it’s a P.angoro that stretches the flesh taut, clearly trying to pummel the walls with his fists. Cheshire responds by shoving down on his face hard, forcing him back into place with another greasy “BWWWWEEEEEEELLLCH!” coming free.

Brody winces just imagining being pinned under something this heavy. But it...ends up giving him something else to be curious over. He stoops down so he’s level with the G.engar’s stomach and puts the side of his head to it, listening in closely. All those deep, rumbling churns and gurgles are clear as day, echoing in his head...but like this, he can hear everything else going on in there as well.

Muffled voices overlap each other, sounding muffled and far away, but still loud. It’s like being in the middle of a noisy concert but listening to it through thick insulation. He can hear other noises as well--squelching and crunching and popping and plenty of screams that manage to pierce through the overlapping chatter. People are being digested in there, the hammerspace clearly not doing anything to actually dampen the effects of Cheshire’s guts. Brody is almost curious about what it actually looks like in there, but he knows even daring to voice that thought will make Cheshire do something really stupid at his expense. He’s not that curious.

Brody can also hear Cheshire purring deeply, making his stomach rumble against the A.bsol. Brody rolls his eyes slightly but keeps himself pressed against the bottom of Cheshire’s gut, listening to its messy work while kneading his hands into the soft flesh. It’s hardly an unfamiliar position for either of them, though. Brody gets a bit distracted by the whole thing until a loud roar suddenly cuts through all the muffled noises.

A bulge shoves out from Cheshire’s stomach, making it stretch tightly. It smacks hard into Brody, making him tumble away and land on his back with a groan. In front of him, the distinct bulges of a L.ugia are stretching out Cheshire’s gut. The L.ugia looks pissed off, his expression clear as he continues to roar his frustrations out. His large hands push out desperately. His thick tail can be seen also trying to push outward from behind, and his pecs and gut are being shown off. Cheshire’s eyes widen and he lets loose another massive belch.

“HHHHUUUWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!”

It smogs up the air as he lets it loose, his hard working guts already making for a very unpleasant stench. It also forces the bulge of the L.ugia back down. Its roaring quickly fades as it sinks in, and Cheshire’s gut rumbles loudly as it rounds out again. The belch trails off and he huffs deeply, rubbing along his gut slowly. “Guh...that was intense...”

“...yeah...” Brody grumbles as he sits up and rubs his head. He gets back to his feet with a huff and dusts himself off. “Alright, I’m going to get my own lunch and going home.”

“Aaaw, really?”  Cheshire fake pouts. “But who’s gonna carry the camera back?”

Brody glares at Cheshire for a moment before wordlessly turning and walking away. Cheshire just snickers to himself and unclips his lapel mic to move it to the hem of his shirt so it’ll catch all the digestive noises. Then he relaxes while his guts work hard on all the meat inside.

From the outside, there wasn’t much of a notable change as Cheshire’s guts worked hard on so many P.okemon. Other than how loud it all was, and the occasional bulge that shoved its way to the surface, there was no telling how things were going inside of the G.engar’s gut. But it was chugging along, mulching down all of the people he’d eaten today like it would under any other circumstance. Some people would come by and make sure to steer clear of him, just because of the noises from his guts and the belches he’d blast out. At least one guy got to see a desperate P.okemon bulge out Cheshire’s gut for a moment, making the passerby scream and run off quickly.

What did eventually show that Cheshire’s stomach was doing its job is that he got fatter over time. His belly swelled out a bit more, his jeans visibly strained as they grew tighter on his ass and thighs, his face even seemed to get a bit rounder. He was already a rather fat G.engar, but sometimes these big binges could leave their mark. Cheshire noticed his own growth and grinned, groping his stomach a few times as it burbled wetly. “Heh, guess you guys really wanted to be seen, huh? Well, don’t worry, everyone’s gonna be seeing you soon!” He gives it a smack, and his stomach sloshes thickly as it wobbles back and forth. Not even the mic was picking up many screams or roars at this point. There was a deep groaning sound, though, paired with a pressure building deep inside of Cheshire.

With some effort, Cheshire pulls his pants down to let his fattened ass free. He uses his tongue to move the camera for a better angle and sits down on the top of the bench so his ass was sticking out behind it. His guts rumble ominous and he rubs over them slowly as he feels a sinking pressure getting closer to the exit.

FBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTCH!!!

A rancid fart trumpets out of Cheshire, making him wince slightly from it. The smell is noxious, as expected from a Poison type. But his gas is nothing compared to the raw stench of sewage he unleashes when soft shit begins to rush out of him.

The flow of crap is rapid, thick logs spooling out of him with sloppy, sputtering noises. It heaps up on the grass behind the bench and begins to pile up faster. Bones and clothes and other such indigestibles can be seen all throughout the dark brown waste. And there’s a lot of it. With around a hundred prey having flushed through Cheshire’s system, the flow just keeps going and going without any signs of slowing down.

If anyone would have doubted the legitimacy of Cheshire’s footage, the show he makes of the disposal would dampen that doubt. The pile he’s made very soon becomes bigger than himself, and he still grunts and pushes as he forces all of the vile mess out of him. It’s clearly too much for a gut of his size, as impressive as it was, to ever hold...and still it keeps piling up, growing wider and taller as he adds more and more carelessly ended lives to it.

In the end, Cheshire is left disposing of prey for nearly half an hour. When the last of the crap finally sputters out of him, he sighs deeply in relief and stands up straight. He admires his own shit heap with a big grin while he casually pisses onto it, flushing out all the liquid waste his prey had given him.

The pile he’s left is massive. It has covered a very large section of the park, far taller and wider than he is. It would take hours and some heavy duty machinery for someone to dispose of the manure, and the smell it’s wafting in the air is enough to make even Cheshire’s face pinch. But he still grins wide, proud of his own work as he ever is.

Once he’s done emptying his bladder, he casually discards his pants with the intention of getting some new ones later. He’s no stranger to streaking. He turns off his camera and gets everything put away so he can start floating home. The entire time he’s thinking of more ideas he can use this for--pranks, video concepts, or even trying to really push this hammerspace thing to its limits. He’s drooling at all of the juicy concepts he can milk from this...and all of the food he’s going to get out of it, too.

Rascal grumbles a bit and cracks his eyes open as he’s stirred away. He’s really warm...it’s enough that it’s made him wake up. He rubs his face a bit, finding it a little damp from...sweat? Hot air blows in his face, making him grumble again and turn his head to look at the source.

As his eyes adjust to the darkness of his room, Rascal finds himself staring into something even darker--a wide, gaping maw. Sharp teeth line the edges and a thick tongue hangs out, twitching occasionally and almost certainly being the reason his face was damp. Or maybe it was condensation from the incredibly hot breath huffing in his face.

The sight isn’t at all shocking to Rascal, though. It’s just G.uilmon--his D.igimon partner, who had appeared some time ago and was now leading a rather lazy life with Rascal. He was sprawled out in bed next to the raccoon, sleeping peacefully with his wide muzzle open. The heat of his breath puffing in Rascal’s face had merely been enough to disturb the raccoon’s sleep.

Rascal sighs softly and lays his head down again, yawning softly. He wanted to just get back to sleep, but G.uilmon’s constant snoring in his face was making it hard to. He grumbles and reaches out to push on G.uilmon’s nose to try to turn his head away...but his hand slips almost immediately and instead plunges directly into the D.igimon’s gullet.

GLLLRK!

The sensation of being elbow deep in G.uilmon’s maw makes Rascal shudder. It’d be fine if he had just put his hand in the D.igimon’s mouth by accident, but he was wrist deep in G.uilmon’s gullet. He could feel the walls squeeze around his hand. The tries to pull it back out, but that just makes G.uilmon’s muzzle firmly clamp shut over his arm instead. A pleased hum comes from G.uilmon as he sucks on the raccoon’s arm in his sleep, a smile appearing on his muzzle and his tail beginning to thump against the bed.

“G.uilmon..?” Rascal asks in a soft voice. He can see the D.igimon’s wing ears fluttering, but he seems to be fast asleep. Rascal tries again to pull his arm away, and G.uilmon responds in turn by slurping harder on it. Rascal yips as he’s pulled closer to G.uilmon, sinking up to his shoulder now with his entire forearm down the D.igimon’s gullet.

After a few seconds of enjoying his midnight snack, G.uilmon’s maw spreads open wide again. Rascal was hoping that meant his partner had woken up and he was allowed to take his arm back. Instead, G.uilmon’s jaws lunge forward, snapping up Rascal’s entire head. He pulls on his snack with a wet GLLLNK! that sucks him in deeper.

Now with his entire arm down G.uilmon’s gullet, Rascal’s face is being assaulted by that thick tongue. He squeaks and wiggles his head, trying to avoid it to no avail. He feels G.uilmon’s arms wrap around him, holding him close, and then those jaws open wide again.

“Guil--mmph!” Rascal tries to call out properly this time, but G.uilmon lunges forward with another ULLLLLP! that squishes Rascal’s face into his steaming gullet. His entire head is sucked down, his other shoulder and chest being dragged into G.uilmon’s maw now. He tries to squirm more, but G.uilmon’s tail curls around his ankles and holds his legs together as the feasting continues.

GLLLLRP! GLLLLK! ULLLLP! GLLP! GLLLP! GLLLLLLLLNK!

Each noisy swallow sucks Rascal deeper, the tight gullet walls roughly squeezing over his form. The heat ramps up as he plunges down, making him pant as it alone saps what little energy he had. He’s soon being crammed into G.uilmon’s stomach, the walls stretching to accommodate his form as he’s forced inside. His own stomach is swallowed down in two gulps, then his hips, and then his legs in rapid succession. Only his lightly kicking feet and twitching tail tip are left, sitting in the back of G.uilmon’s open maw. The cool air of Rascal’s room can just barely be felt around the steaming huffs of G.uilmon’s breath.

GLLRP!

And then they’re gone, sucked down into the darkness of the D.igimon’s gullet. G.uilmon sighs happily after, his tongue flopping out of the side of his maw. His gut gurgles wetly as the last of Rascal is squeezed in, trapping him fully within the stifling heat of G.uilmon’s body. Curled up into an awkward ball, Rascal can only pant and whine as the heat and his lack of sleep leave him exhausted.

“G.uilmon’s gonna...wake up soon...” Rascal huffs to himself. The stomach groans around him and then everything suddenly lurches and sloshes. He yelps as he’s tossed around with G.uilmon rolling to lay on top of his stomach. It seems like he’s enjoying the fullness and the heat as his pleased rumbling can be heard all around. “...I hope...” Rascal tacks on in a soft voice.

...

G.uilmon is stirred away by sunlight in his eyes. They blink open as he mumbles to himself, only for a wide yawn to interrupt. He was splayed out on Rascal’s bed, taking up the whole thing with no one else in it. He smacks his lips a few times, a strangely familiar but pleasant taste lingering on his breath. He smiles and closes his eyes, planning to just go back to sleep. That is until a sudden and sharp pressure stabs through his stomach that makes him jolt and whine.

“Ooooh...G.uilmon...gotta go...” G.uilmon lifts his ass up and flags his thick tail, showing off his ass to no one. He’s still not fully used to the rules of the ‘real world’, and there haven't been any issues involving indoor accidents until...right now. The overwhelming need to release the horrible pressure in his bowels stops G.uilmon from doing anything else as he begins to push.

Phhhhhrrrrrrrbbbbttt!

A rancid smell fills the air as G.uilmon unleashes a blast of gas. It’s not enough to relieve the pressure, however, and he keeps pushing as something solid begins to spread his pucker. A thick log of shit slides out of him, drooping down onto the foot of the bed and coiling up slowly. It steams in the air due to the heat radiating off of it, and the stench is like sewage. G.uilmon feels strange lumps passing through him that make him squeak and whine, but he just keeps pushing.

Bones picked clean of their meat create a stark contrast in the dark brown fecal matter, passing through G.uilmon one after another. Tufts of brown fur tickle him slightly on the way out as well, eliciting small huffs from G.uilmon every so often. The remains of some sleepwear also feel strange coming out, twisted around logs of shit, stained and acid washed.

The thing that gets G.uilmon to whine the loudest is the raccoon skull he has to force out with a few hard pushes. It lands with a thunk in the pile of D.igimon dung, a bit more shit following after it before the flow finally stops.

Sighing loudly to himself as the last of the pressure disappears, G.uilmon slumps down on the bed again to catch his breath. Although, his muzzle crinkles when he smells the rotten stench in the air.

“Yuck..!” Fully awake now, G.uilmon clamors off of the bed, careful not to get any of the mess on him. The entire foot of the bed is covered in steaming G.uilmon shit, some of it having slopped onto the floor. The remains of Rascal are rather obvious, but G.uilmon doesn’t seem to register what exactly the pile of shit is made of. He gives it a single glance before looking away and sticking his tongue out. He’s not going to sleep in here any time soon, that’s for sure.

Lumbering out of the room, G.uilmon lazily scratches his much rounder belly as he yawns again. “Rascaaaal...G.uilmon wants breakfast!” he calls out into the quiet apartment. When there’s no reply, he makes his way to the small kitchenette and finds it empty. He doesn’t even smell fresh food in the air! His belly growls, demanding to be fed, but Rascal had told him not to make food without him around since he made a big mess last time.

“I’m definitely lost...” Rascal murmurs to himself as he looks around. Though, does it really count as being ‘lost’ if he’s not sure where he’s been since he got here? Ever since he followed that white rabbit into that really big rabbit hole, he’s been wandering around weird environments with weirder people.

At the moment, he’s managed to find himself in a strange, winding forest with indescribable signage. He’s at a fork in the road, but with the sign posts pointing in random directions saying things like “Here”, “There”, and “That Way”, he has no idea where to go.

“Are you really lost?” someone purrs.

“Huh?” Rascal’s ears perk up and he looks around. “Hello? Who said that?”

“Up here!”

Rascal looks up and sees a pair of bright yellow eyes and a long, toothy grin floating just above the sign post. More features start to materialize, pinks and purples swirling like ribbons together to form the body of a fat cat, who was lying across several of the haphazardly placed signs.

“So, I’ll ask again,” C.heshire Cat says. “Are you really lost?”

Rascal tilts his head. This is hardly the weirdest thing he’s seen since he got here. “Well, I don’t know where I am or where to go.”

The cat chuckles to himself as if Rascal had said something funny. “Why, you’re in W.onderland, of course! And you can go any way you like. This way or that way or over there or though there...” Various signs light up as the cat lists off possible directions. “You don’t even know where you’re going. You can’t be lost if you don’t have a destination.”

Hm...Rascal isn’t sure if that makes sense or not, but it doesn’t sound wrong. “Well...I guess I’d like to get out of W.onderland. Do any of these directions go that way?”

“Out?” C.heshire Cat blinks and laughs again. He leans down from his perch, getting closer to Rascal. “Dear boy, the only way out is in.” And when he says that...the inside of his maw lights up for a moment like the signs did.

“No, I don’t want in, I want out,” Rascal corrects. “I’m already in, that’s the problem. That rabbit hole led me here...”

“How can you go out without going in?” C.heshire Cat asks in return. “They’re the same thing, aren’t they? To go in is to go out, and to go out is to go in. You ventured down one tunnel to reach this place, so going down another will take you out of it. Deeper and deeper yet, that’s how the madness of W.onderland works.”

Is that really how it works..? Trying to make any sense of this place is really draining. There’s almost a logic to it but it never feels quite right. This guy is from here so he probably knows what he’s talking about...and even with the strange things he says, he makes more sense than anyone else Rascal has bumped into so far.

“Okay...so I just have to go in...there?” Rascal points to the cat’s grinning mouth, which seems to stretch just a bit wider.

“Going in is going out, so if you’re going to go in anywhere, it may as well be in heeeeeere~” C.heshire Cat’s maw yawns open in front of Rascal, the cat’s head level with his own so he’s able to stare directly into that grinning mouth. Hot breath puffs past Rascal’s face as he looks beyond the drooling tongue and sharp teeth and into the dark abyss beyond.

It doesn’t seem that much different from the rabbit hole he took to get down here...it’s probably safe, right?

After taking a few seconds to think it over, Rascal figures he has no other ideas. Nothing about this place makes a lot of sense so why would he expect the way out to be any more logical? With his indecision resolved, Rascal pushes his hands into C.heshire Cat’s maw.

C.heshire Cat hums softly, resting his paws under his chin as if he were leaning his head on a table despite being in the air. He doesn’t do anything to rush or urge Rascal on, so the raccoon has to take further initiative and push himself deeper. His hands slide over the cat’s squishy tongue and effortlessly squelch into the dark gullet.

Rascal lowers his head down between his arms, staring into the yawning maw before him. His arms have already disappeared inside that dark gullet...the only way to go is deeper. So, he begins to wiggle in more, shoving his face into C.heshire Cat’s maw. A pleased purring rumbles around his head as he worms his way in.

There’s very little resistance for Rascal as he pushes deeper, his head easily accepted into C.heshire Cat’s gullet while his shoulders and chest are starting to wedge into the cat’s maw. As he digs himself deeper, the cat leans down further, keeping it easy for Rascal to dive in. His chest disappears, and then his chubby stomach along with his bag. C.heshire Cat leans down further, letting Rascal’s hips and then thighs disappear as well.

Soon enough, C.heshire Cat is standing on the ground on all fours. His stomach is bulging and sagging down to the ground, squished against it and between his own legs. C.heshire Cat leans his head down further, helpingRascal to shove himself deeper. His knees and then shins are gone. It’s only his feet left, standing on his toes. C.heshire Cat’s tongue slides under them and lifts them up into his maw, with closes with a satisfying click.

GLRK~!

The first and only swallow C.heshire Cat does sounds out, loud and wet. Then he lets out a pleased sigh with a content look on his face. C.heshire Cat looks at his stomach with a soft chuckle. It’s squished against the ground and between his legs, vaguely shaped like the raccoon that was helping to make it.

“And there we have it~” C.heshire Cat purrs, lightly patting his stomach. “You are now out of W.onderland and in my stomach. I hope you find it to be an improvement~”

C.heshire Cat’s stomach shifts slightly, a muffled sound coming from it that almost seems like Rascal speaking. The cat’s ear flickers and he chuckles again. He stretched out before beginning to walk back to the sign post.

“You say you want to come out of my stomach? First you want in, and then you want out, and they say I’m the mad cat here!” He laughs to himself as he slips behind the sign pole, disappearing from sight rather than being seen on the other side as he does.

“Hello..?” Rascal calls out as he peeks his head into the doorway of the old building. The raccoon had been walking down the street when he thought he’d heard a low voice crying out for help. He’d tracked it to this old building, tucked away on a corner in the dark.

Even from the outside, it had looked like it was abandoned for years, with a sign long faded and worn down. The inside is in even worse condition as Rascal looks around. Some kind of overgrowth has filled the place, thick vines stretching across the floor and walls all coming from this giant mass in a back corner. Based on the few things he can see, Rascal would assume this was some old plant shop and one of them just went crazy.

Rascal steps fully into the building now, his ears twitching as he looks around. “I heard you calling for help. I’m here to help!” He didn’t see anyone around. He’s certain he heard--

“Help...me...”

Rascal’s ears both perk up as he hears that voice moan out again. He ventures further into the building, carefully stepping over the vines so he doesn’t trip. “Where are you? Are you hurt?”

“No...” the voice moans out. “...I’m...just...so...” There’s a massive thud that makes Rascal jolt. The giant plant the vines were coming from suddenly fell over...and it splits open, revealing a gaping maw. “...HUUUUNGRY!”

Rascal gawks for a moment, mouth hanging open as his brain registers what exactly he’s seeing. It’s a giant, talking plant...alright then. What do plants eat..? It probably has plenty of sunlight and water since the elements can get in just fine. They also get their nutrients from...soil, right?

“...I don’t think I have any soil on me,” Rascal says after a moment.

“Soil?!” The plant’s bud--or head, maybe?--rears back and it almost seems to be sneering. “Do I look like I eat soil?! I ain’t some daffodil, bub!”

“Oh...” Rascal tilts his head slightly, his tail swishing as he thinks.”...so what are you, then?”

The plant grins and uses a couple of its vines to gesture to itself. “I am A.udrey II, a very strange and unique plant. And do you know what I eat?”

Rascal shakes his head. “I guess not.”

A couple of vines suddenly lurch from the ground and curl around Rascal’s waist and torso. He squeaks as he’s suddenly jerked forward, now within arm’s reach of the grinning plant.

“Meat,” A.udrey II purrs.

Rascal blinks a few times. “Oh...like a Venus flytrap. You’re a bit big for bugs...” Looking away from the plant, Rascal opens his satchel and starts rummaging around inside. “...I thiiiink....I have some beefy jerky.” He pulls out a half-empty bag of jerky and holds it up. “Will that be alright?”

“Are you mocking me?” A.udrey II asks. “I don’t mean some nasty old flesh! It needs to be fresh! It’s gotta be bloody!”

“Oh.” Rascal tucks the bag of jerky back into his satchel. “I could try to find a butcher shop then. I don’t mind paying.”

A.udrey II groans and gives Rascal a shake, making him squeak. “You’re just not getting it, are you?! I’ve starvin’ away here! Look at how wilted and grey I am! I’m barely keepin’ by on the birds and rats and strays that come in here. I need meat, and a lot of it, right now! Oh, I just can’t wait any longer! I’m gonna die if I do!” The massive head of the plant drops to the floor again and lets out a weak groan. Its vines don’t loosen their grip around Rascal, though.

“Hm...” Rascal frowns softly, trying to think of a solution. He wants to help this poor plant. It really seems like it’s suffering, and the solution is simple enough. If it has such a specific diet and it can’t wait for him to get some meat and it needs a lot of it then...

“...would I be enough meat to feed you?” Rascal asks.

“Hm..?” A.udrey II lifts its head slightly. “You?”

Rascal smiles casually and nods. “Yeah, I’m kinda big, and it doesn’t really get fresher than being alive. If it’s really that serious, then I’m happy to help.”

“You’re serious? You’re just going to offer yourself up like that?” A.udrey II lifts its head more. “I ain’t askin’ for spare change, kid, this is your life you’re offerin’! You don’t even get anything out of it! What’s the catch, huh? Terminal illness? On the run from the cops? Hiding some weed killer on ya?”

“Huh? No, nothing like that,” Rascal says, shaking his head. “It just sounds like you really need the food, and it’d be cruel not to offer.”

“Heh...hehehe...HAHAHAHAHA!” A.udrey II throws its head back in laughter, the vines that sprawl around the building writhing and smacking around. Several more suddenly snake over and curl around Rascal, hoisting him off the ground. “Not how I expected this to go, but I ain’t gonna turn down a free dinner! Didn’t realize I was talking to plant food on legs! You’ll at least tide me over until the next chump comes in.”

Rascal doesn’t really get what the plant is talking about, but it sounds like he made it happy at least. He’s lifted up higher and turned upside down, his satchel slipping from his shoulders and hitting the ground with a thump. A.udrey II tips its head back and opens its maw wide.

A weird smell wafts from the plant’s maw, making Rascal’s nose scrunch up. The inside looks slick with something that’s probably drool. Sharp teeth line the top and bottom edges, with a giant, quivering purple tongue waiting for Rascal. And in the back is a dark gullet that leads to the stem. Rascal was expecting to get dropped, but instead, the vines curled around him bring him into that giant maw.

HAAAA--OMNF!

A.udrey II snaps its jaws shut over Rascal, chuckling to itself as it gets that wonderful sensation of fresh meat in its maw. Its vines untangle themselves from the racoon and are pulled out of its maw to flop back to the floor. Rascal’s lower legs and half of his tail poke out from between A.udrey II’s lips, still twitching slightly.

Everything is muggy inside of the plant’s jaws. Rascal is being smothered by the thick plant flesh from the top and bottom, the fat tongue he landed on at least providing some minor comfort. It makes it nearly impossible to move, leaving him splayed out and completely at the mercy of his predator. At the very least...A.udrey II works fast.

Tossing its head back, A.udrey II snaps its jaws to take in the rest of its raccoon treat. There’s a muffled squeak from deep in its maw as Racal’s face is smooshed against the entrance to its gullet. Then it lowers its head again, humming to itself as it makes wet slurping sounds. Rascal is sucked down with each one, breaching past the barrier of A.udrey II’s gullet and steadily surging his way down deeper.

The stem bulges slightly as Rascal’s form is funneled down. It disappears into the dirt surrounding the old, cracked pot A.udrey II’s body sprouted from. It went much deeper than that by now, which Rascal would be discovering as his body sinks under the ground and out of sight. But he wouldn’t be telling anyone about it any time soon.

A.udrey II smacks its lips a couple of times and slurps its thick tongue along them. “Hrrm...ptoo!” It spits something wet and slimy out, which lands with a wet splat on the ground. It’s Rascal’s purple beanie, somehow getting tugged off of him as he was slurped down. A.udrey II slurps over its lips one last time before it chuckles deeply.

“Just my luck that my easiest meal was a hairball. Gonna be coughing things up for weeks thanks to him!” It lazily picks at its teeth with the end of its vine. “Hopefully, the next meal ticket that walks in here isn’t such a moron. The free meat’s nice, but how am I supposed to get more if it feeds itself to me first?”

There’s a wet gurgle somewhere down below as Rascal squeezes into a slightly roomier sack. A.udrey II smirks to itself. “...still...I do love an easy treat~ Hehehe...” It grabs Rascal’s hat and satchel with its vines to toss them away, but something inside of the satchel buzzes. It catches A.udrey II’s attention, and it opens the satchel to dig around and pull it out.

“Now what do we have here?” the plant purrs to itself. Rascal’s phone...looks like someone was texting him, too! A.udrey II’s grin widens as it unlocks the phone with ease, no password needed. That’s a nice, bloated contact list, too. “Well, well, well. Maybe I was too hard on the kid after all. Just look at this fancy menu he left for me~”

"Hey, Ben!" the voice of the manager calls out. "Get to the storage room! You're needed."

Ben lets out a sigh. He knows what that means. That weird, man-eating mannequin that lives in the department store has basically become his responsibility after it took a liking to him. It at least meant he was making good pay, so he can't complain too much, though he spent more time trying to wrangle the thing than doing normal job stuff.

Ben leaves the display he was working on to head to the store room to see what exactly the creature wanted this time. It was full, that's the first thing Ben notices. That white, plastic stomach is stretched like rubber, bubbling and churning like crazy over an astonishing amount of food. Did it get out when Ben wasn't looking again? It must have to snacked this much...

The worker walks over, crefully placing his hands on the solid stomach and giving it a rub. The gentle growl he coaxes from the mannequin tells him that it's at least not dealing with indigestion. This means it probably just wants Ben's attention again. "You know you shouldn't be eating this much at once. What if someone catches you?"

The mannequin lets out a low groan, clearly not caring. It never did, no matter how often Ben tries to explain this. Although, it must have decided it was tired of another lecture because stiff hands lift Ben up by the armpits. He lets out a surprised yelp as he's dropped off on a big pile of clothes. Before he can get up, he sees a big, white ass come down over him.

The mannequin could be soft when it wanted, which was good for Ben now that it's massive ass was turning him into a living cushion. At this point, the mannequin's diet has given it the look of a plus-sized model, making it so most of Ben's upper-half is smothered, his legs kicking around weakly form between the mannequin's. Though that ends pretty soon as he gives up.

The mannequin crosses its arms with a pleased huff. With its nest now extra comfortable, it can simply relax there and let all of the meat it snatched during the day process. At least three customers and two workers were still kicking around in its churning guts, but that would settle before long, letting them melt and soften up into a thick sludge to pump away.

Desperate was probably a good word for it. Rick had always been insecure about his body--tall and lanky, to a point that sucking in his gut made it concave--and wanted to put on weight. He's tried a thousand different workouts and foods all promising to put on the mass. But nothing. He hasn't gained a pound, no matter what he's done. It felt like bad luck--he's too used to bad luck that it's not even surprising anymore. That's why he's desperate. That's why he did something he shouldn't have.

Rick didn't care about the pizzas when he opened his apartment door. When he saw the pizza guy standing there, apologizing over the fact that he dropped the big stack he'd carried to his door, his stomach growled and he had an idea. His drooling jaws open wide and his brain practically shuts off as he engulfs the pizza guy's head. he gulps and slurps, working not from greed, but desperation as he packs away his new diet supplement. If normal food won't let him gain weight, then surely live meals will.

he slurps up a pair of feet and kicks the door shut. His black hoodie is stretched tightly over his gut, the pizza guy's voice just clear enough to let Rick hear him screaming for help. He belches, pats his stomach, and sits down on his couch again. This has to be it, right? There's no way he can eat an entire human and gain nothing from it. He'll feel guilty about killing someone later, he just has to know that this will work. His stomach roars to life like a monster, or maybe a machine. Rick can feel it go insanely hot under his hands and the pizza guy is screaming bloody murder. And then...it chugs, harsh and loud. Rick's stomach shrinks an inch. Then another. And another. The pizza guy is freaking out in there. Rick's stomach is processing him at an insane rate, the detailed bulges he made shrinking in on themselves, growing softer and losing definition all while Rick's stomach shrinks around him. He though ti was working at first, but then his stomach kept shrinking and shrinking and shrinking. It lets out a low groan and Rick blasts out a massive belch that shakes the walls. But when he lifts his hoodie...nothing. His stomach is as flat as ever. An entire human...and Rick didn't gain a pound. But he had gotten hungry again.

Rick's neighbors didn't appreciate all the noise he was making, or the fact that a bunch of pizzas were left spilled in the hallway, and Rick had to go answer the door despite his growling stomach. There's at least four of them out there, and he tries apologizing to them, but it doesn't seem to go over well. Especially with his gut interrupting...and Rick finds himself drooling a bit. Maybe one guy wasn't enough...maybe it needs to be more? Four sounds like a much better number. Yeah...there's no way four men can't add some weight.

No one investigates the screaming neighbors. Rick is ravenous with them, snapping one up and guzzling him down, then shoveling another into his jaws and doing the same. The third tries to fight and Rick snaps down on his fist and the fourth tries to run, so Rick grabs him by the shirt and hoists him up, finding immense strength in his desire to eat. He waddles back into his apartment as he pushes the last guy's sobbing head down the hatch and he sits down on the couch again. His gut is sticking out of his hoodie now and he rubs it with a soft groan. This has to be enough now. But that same loud groan rumbles from his stomach, and his neighbors dont' stand a chance. Rick's gut starts shrinking down fast, the four men screaming and panicking for the minute and a half it takes for them all to digest. But they're gone in no time and Rick's stomach is still flat. Nothing comes up when he lets loose another booming belch--he's stomach had digested everything and burned it all up just as fast.

The waiting room is empty other than the one man sitting in a chair. He's nervously wringing his hands as he stares at the door leading into the doctor's office. There had been a full house before, but that was two hours ago, and the place is empty but for one. But the man has started noticing that out of all those people...no one has actually walked back out this way. The last one--so fat guy complaining of a stomach ache--had gone in ten minutes ago and still wasn't back. The last man is getting increasingly nervous about the whole thing but before he can make a decision of what he's going to do, the door opens a crack and a voice comes through. "Next."

The man looks up when he hears the voice and slowly rises to his feet. He's nervous about what he's going to see but...he moves forward instead, heading to the door and stepping inside to see the doctor.

Doctor Ravenclaw has his stomach resting on the examination table in his office. It's stuffed so full that it's completely exposed from his coat and shirt, exposing the pale flesh that's bulging with so many men inside. It groans and churns heavily, the wet sounds mixing with the muffled voices of the many men inside. A thick belch rumbles out of him as his stomach lets out a rather noisy groan, mulching down one of the 'patients' inside now that he's been stewing long enough.

The man in the plague doctor's mask looks over, one gloved hand resting on top of his gut. "Oh, good, there was someone left. I was just craving a bit of dessert." The man, frozen by the sight before him, barely registered what was said to him. It's not until a hand had grabbed him by the front of the shirt and dragged him forward that he snapped out of it. But by then, it was too late. He's hoisted off the ground, staring into the open beak of the mask, down into the wide open maw just drooling for an extra piece of meat. He could smell the heavy scent of lavender and vanilla...and then he's pushed in head first like the rest.

Wet slurps and gulps ring out in the office as Doctor Ravenclaw devours his latest meal. The man went down easily, his kicking legs disappearing with a wet slurp and a final gulp. The doctor lets out a pleased groan as he felt another live meal squeeze into his already stuffed gut. "Mmm...that feels much better...and with twenty minutes still to my lunch break." He pats his gut gently, another wet belch rumbling out of him, this one sending a slimy sneaker flying from his jaws. He gently picked it up and tosses it into a biohazard bin then returns to the examination table to rest his stomach on.

The rest of the patients that day are spared from the doctor's ravenous hunger, at least. But all of them can't help but notice how heavy and round the doctor's stomach is and the wet, rumbling noises it makes as it steadily processes so much meat. One even ended up accidentally squashed under it when the doctor stumbled by mistake, leading to a very heavy belch and a lot of very embarrassed and frantic apologies.

The worker thought the thing had gotten indigestion again or something. That would be why he though it'd been digesting one person for so long today. It'd been fed during opening with the guy who was opening, a pretty big jock type that only seemed to be working here because it was close to a local college. But that had been hours ago, and now it was well past lunch and that guy was still wiggling around.

The worker had gone into the storage room during his break to check on it after he'd heard the manager mumbling about it. Sure enough, the mannequin was there, its current meal making its gut shift around as he moved sluggishly inside. "Did...Did you get indigestion again?" It felt weird to be talking to this...thing like it was a person. But he knew it understood him.

The mannequin lets out a soft rumble. When it had indigestion last weak, its stomach had been much louder and it almost seemed to be in pain. But...while it's stomach is certainly working hard, it just feels different. Still, the worker slinks forward until he was in front of the creature. "Well...I-I'm on break right now so...I figured I'd come back and help with that. J-Just don't eat me!"

With another rumble from the creature, the worker puts his hands to its gut to start rubbing. He can feel the guy inside shift around a bit harder when he started but it seems like stewing in that gut for a few hours has worn the man down pretty well. "Are...you sure this is indigestion? Your uh...not as noisy as before."

The worker glances up at the mannequin. Without a face, it's pretty hard to tell how it feels. It lets out a huff and moved forward with a jerky motion. The worker helps as he's knocked down by the heavy gut suddenly swinging into him and soon enough, the mannequin is sitting on him, using that stuffed belly to pin him to the floor. No amount of wiggling or complaining seemed to help him get free.

It was an hour later when another worker came back to check on him. They saw the mannequin pinning him down, letting out a purr as its gut was rubbed over by nervous hands from a pinned down employee. The two employees lock eyes for a moment and the second leaves before the first could ask for help.