#thorvore

Sure! I'll just do something for all of the guys that I feel like I know enough about to work with.

S.pider-Man: I like teasing him and making him an observer with a weird fetish that everyone knows about. But as for actually interacting with vore? I like the idea of him picking off citizens every so often as 'payment' for keeping the city safe. He needs the food and energy, after all. That's if he doesn't have enough random goons to satiate himself with, anyway. He's really whiny as prey but I think he secretly likes it. Would rather die than admit that though (probably will).

V.enom: I mean this guy writes himself (somehow I still kinda struggle with thinking of things to do with him). But yeah he's just a big glutton. Being a 'hero' is less an act or morality and more an easy way to get meals (criminals and villains) that no one whines about when he does eat them. Doesn't mean he won't eat literally anyone but some meals are less annoying, y'know? He's way too cocky to be very panicked as prey--he'd be pissed, maybe, but still think he can overpower or escape even once he's fully packed away. His gruesome threats belie his panic though.

D.eadpool: He knows what this is. He knows why he's eating people. Thankfully, it feels good, and he's also a freak with a loose sense of morality so this doesn't bother him at all! In fact, he'll probably even lean into it just for fun. He is less enthralled to be the one on the receiving end of getting eaten, though. So he can be very whiny prey, though maybe not to the predator in question.

R.ocket Raccoon: He's just as bad as V.enom when it comes to his cockiness. He's confident and self-assured and just looooves to prove his dominance to prey. Especially bigger or equally cocky prey. He tends to just eat assholes and the like but he's a merc--he'll eat nearly anyone for the right price, and then he'll brag about it while getting drinks. Unlike V.enom, though, his confident crumbles fast when he's on the receiving end of someone's maw. He'll start panicking and getting nervous and try to talk his way out of it. No nearly as cool when he's staring down a gullet.

C.aptain America: Another one I think writes himself--dude is a genetically engineered super soldier. That's gotta require a whole lot of calories, and he was probably made with the anticipation of devouring enemy soldiers (and maybe even some of his comrades if need be). So even as a hero, he's gotta do lots of eating and there's lots of goons (and civilians) he can use for that. Think he'd be too self-sacrificial though. He'd let a comrade eat him in real dire needs like emergency rations. Course, if he's forced down even against his will, he's a big hunk of meat that will be tough to work over...not impossible though.

T.hor: He's a N.orse god, being feasts and meals are basically his thing. He'll happily sit and devour food and chug ale. Doesn't matter if that food is live or not. It's even worse if it's through his depression era and literally all he does is sit around and eat, then he's just casually snacking on everyone. And then he's a big belcher, too, and super shameless about it. I think that swings around to make it so anyone who does chug the god down will also be really gassy. T.hor probably doesn't recognize any danger from getting eaten being a god so he won't be too easy to work over if a person can just handle all that meat.

The H.ulk: Okay so I mentioned C.ap needs lots of cals due to being a super soldier, right? That's nothing compared to what H.ulk would need. He's literally powered by radioactivity, that basically requires a ton of energy. So he's gotta constantly eat, and people are a lot of calories so...yeah, very big on mass vore here. Depending on how smart he is, he either has stuffed planned out like emptying prisons or he doesn't and crowds of people might disappear depending on how hungry he is. As for prey, he's gotta be a real wreck on the guts, just a giant calorie bomb. Most people will probably regret eating Hulk and then really regret digesting him unless they're a weirdo that's into that or something.

I.ron Man: Another cocky one, there's a lotta those. The suit's gotta make it really easy to help mulch down his meals as quickly as possible though. Maybe it helps with energy, too? He's the kinda guy that definitely thinks he's at least owed the meals and probably enjoys them very casually, too. He's too self-assured as prey, though, especially if he gets eaten in his suit. Dude thinks that thing makes him invincible. He will be proven wrong and by then he'll have a little time in full-blown panic before he's digested.

S.uperman: He's an alien! Let him have a weird diet (like other men) and just not see it as weird. The sun gives him energy but so can other people, why not? He's still super friendly, I think all of his prey is willing and he doesn't really like having unwilling meals. Makes him feel bad. Similarly, I think he could be willing prey if asked by the right person/for the right reasons. But also he's good unwilling prey. K.ryptonite is not the only weakness he has. He's still made of meat, after all...

Yeah, I could do more with him! He's kinda fun for as little as I actually know about the dude. So here's a long one because oops!

That sounds like a logical escalation of these. (And I love doing that, too)

It's his newfound confidence that made him do it. That's what S.pider-Man would say, anyway, as he took the last grueling gulp of his thrashing meal. His gut hangs like a bolder in front of him and a deep belch rumbles out once the last of his meal drops into place. V.enom didn't seem to like his new position in the hero's gut, and he made that known with plenty of thrashing and roaring. All it does is make S.pider-Man belch again as he leans back. He probably should feel bad about this...but he's not. He's stopped feeling bad about his eating habits a while ago. V.enom wasn't even the first person he knew to finally get to face his stomach acids. He casts a glance to the hefty pile sitting nearby, D.eadpool's mask sticking out near the top. Turns out, with enough time, S.pidey's stomach acids outpace superhuman regeneration. based on the way he'd started begging, W.ade didn't like finding out about that the hard way, but he's not complaining so much anymore. S.pider-man pats his gut a few times as V.enom stretches it out again. He's not going to complain about it for too much longer, either. If his gut can power through D.eadpool's regeneration, then a parasitic alien can't be that much of a chore. In all honesty, the thrashing around is what gave S.pider-Man's gut the most trouble, and it made him obnoxiously gassy. But as time goes on, that loud roaring turns into weak groaning and the powerful thrashing devolves into weak squirming. S.pidey pushes a hand down on his gut and lets out another thick belch. His stomach is getting softer, and V.enom is rapidly losing this battle. He fought to the very end, but eventually, his body gave one more massive shudder before going entirely slack. He melts down fast from there, S.pidery's gut rapidly losing size and shape now that V.enom isn't resisting it anymore. The gas gets worse, of course--even S.pider-man winces when he lets loose a bassy fart that might as well have been toxic. But he only has to deal with that for a little bit before he's squatting down next to the pile of D.eadpool to drop off his second course. S.pider-Man groans lowly as V.enom squeezes out slowly. Thick, dense logs give the hero a run for his money as he drops off one of his heaviest craps. There's little left of V.enom besides the thick waste he'd been reduced to, but it gives S.pidey more trouble than the bones did when he was passing D.eadpool. He's panting and sweating when he finally manages to push out the last foot of crap all at once. He's left a real mountain behind, the pile dwarfing his first meal by a lot. S.pider-Man lets out a deep breath as he looks back at the pair of piles. "No hard feeling, guys, but I'm not looking to be bothered anymore. Figured I'd let you down the hard way." Giving his gut an idle rub, he heads out the window he came in from, leaving the abandoned building--and the steaming shits--behind for good.

"Kid, you can't keep doing this," Captain A.merica says sternly. S.pider-Man is sitting in front of him, arms casually put over the back of the chair he's at. His gut is sitting in front of him heavily, bubbling and churning loudly over the meat sludge inside. He gives his chest a thump and belches deeply. It doesn't even make C.ap flinch. "Stop doing what?" S.pidey finally asks, feigning innocence. In response, he gets a harsh jab to his gut, making it wobble and slosh, while C.ap gets in his face. "You've eaten more than enough heroes. One or two we can manage, but how many is it that this point?" S.pider-Man hums and puts a hand to his chin. "Well, let's see. H.ulk lost that bet and let me down him. Then there was R.ocket and his friends wanting to crash at my place--I didn't have enough beds, you see, so I had to make sure we could share. H.awkeye got caught on my webs by mistake so I helped him out. A.ntman was an accident, I didn't seem him until he grew to size in my gut, and there's not much I can do by then. And T.ony was complaining that I was eating too many people." S.pider-Man pats his gut a few times. "Oh, and then there's whatever' left of T.hor here. He was begging me to eat him. I guess snacking on so many heroes gives a guy a reputation." C.ap's eyes narrow and he squares his shoulders. "Kid..." Another belch rumbles out of S.pider-Man as his stomach shrinks a bit, some messy chugging signally that T.hor is pumping deeper. "Look, let's cut to the chase, okay? You're gonna melt alive in my guts like everyone else, and we both know that's true. So why don't you pitch in with some stomach rubs to help T.hor along and then we can put you away, too, alright?" S.pider-man pats his gut a few times, earning a glare from C.ap. About half an hour later, after plenty of belly rubs, S.pider-Man is slowly slurping down a pair of toned legs while thick shit slides out of his ass into a heap on the floor at the same time. It felt good to be eating and shitting at the same time--he'll have to do it more often. Maybe he'll start branching out a bit? With a gulp and a push, C.ap drops into his gut and the last of T.hor drops from his ass. He's run out of local heroes to snack on, now that C.ap is curled up in his stomach, so he'll have to start branching out for more. But meals like this...S.pider-Man thumps his chest and belches deeply. "Oh yeah...can't get enough of meals like this. I'll have to make some 'emergency calls' and see who's willing to come by..." He can let C.ap digest while he figures out who would make a good dinner. Hopefully, they won't mind the mess...especially once they join it.

I can do something for those, yeah!

T.hor has to do more than just work out in order to fuel his muscles. They're powerful and impressive, of course, but any mortal can get like that if they really wanted to. In order to get size like his, one has to take the mass from somewhere. On A.sgard, that usually involved a fight to the death of some kind, where the winner was allowed to claim the loser. On Earth, however, T.hor finds that it's much easier to simply take what he wants. Even the strongest human is nothing to him, so it's hardly worth fighting if he knows the outcome already. Mortals can be rather easy to woo as well, especially for someone like T.hor, so he often doesn't even need to get aggressive with them. For instance, he found a human gym during a training day and decided to put it to use. The equipment would break if he tried to use it, so he had no interest in it. Instead, he went to the locker room, shedding his shirt and exposing his muscular torso. It got the attention of some of the other men, and with the right encouragement, T.hor had them coming over to him. He's happy to show off a bit for them--they deserve to get a look at what they're adding to, what their lives will be ending for improve--with a bit of flexing. One man even manages to snap a picture of him on his phone. That's when he's brought in with a large hug, face planting into T.hor's thick, fuzzy chest. The other gymgoers watch as the hug becomes tighter, and the man gets his entire head wedged between those massive pecs. T.hor folds his arms behind his head and grins, flexing his chest over and over, each one pulling the man deeper inside. He can tell he's excited the rest of the gymgoers....of his prey, so he coaxes another two forward, letting them plant their faces into his hairy pits. Just like his pecs, their heads sink inside with ease, and he just as he flex his arms to suck them deeper. A locker room of at least eight men slowly loses those numbers, none of them resisting as they feed a god's muscle. T.hor gets two packed away in each arm and four in his pecs, leaving high muscle bulging with their forms tightly packed away inside. He goes to the mirror in the locker room and flexes his godly muscles. In an instant, all eight men are crushed into nothing. Mortals are simply that weak compared to T.hor--it takes almost nothing for him to end their lives, but they give so much in return, as the god watches his chest and arms bulk out with new mass and power. He lets out a content sight, spares a thank you for those mortals, and heads out without his shirt--it won't fit anyway, and if he can lure in some extra meals, that's all the better.

Oh he's a good one for that!

"Yeah, sure kid, I can show you how I keep my body fed," Captain A.merica says casually. That S.pider-Man guy is a walking fanboy, it seems, or at least seriously looks up to the heroes. So when C.ap got cornered by the guy with questions about his diet, he just couldn't pass up the opportunity. Those 'S.pidey senses' don't do much good once the web-slinger's head has been shoved into C.ap's drooling jaws. Lean meat like this is always good for the body, C.ap figures, and he doubts that anyone's going to miss the kid enough to investigate him. S.pider-Man does his best to struggle, but thick gulps slurp the smaller male down with ease, that spandex suit only making it so he slides right down the hatch with no problem. Cap's abs bloat out in front of him as he tanks S.pider-Man. Feisty thing, too, doing his best to squirm around even in the tight confines of the super soldier's gut. C.ap places a hand on the bulge his meal's head makes. He can feel the vibrations of the poor guy talking but nothing's getting through at all. "As you can see, my body needs a pretty steady dose of protein. I've figured out that nothing quite hits the spot like human meat does." S.pider-Man yells something and he can feel the hero's hands pushing out as much as they can against his gut. It doesn't do much. "In fact, my body's gotten so good at it that..." C.ap presses his hand down and flexes his stomach. S.pider-Man lets out a loud scream, followed shortly by several cracks and crunches of his body being eviscerated in seconds. A meaty belch rumbles out of C.ap as he pushes all the air out, along with S.pider-Man's mask, which splats against the wall and sticks there. Already, C.ap's abs are back, as if nothing had ever been inside. He gives his gut a lazily rub as he gurgles and licks his lips. "...all it takes is a single flex to pump a fully-grown man into fuel. Too bad guys can only see it in action once..." He pats his stomach a few times and lets out a content sigh. Tasty kid...maybe he'll snack on a couple more heroes. He's always wanted to try it...

Captain A.merica is hardly the only big eater on the team. If anything, he thinks T.hor and H.ulk might outclass him with the way they eat. He's willing to put it to the test, though. He has the two of them agree to a little game the next time they go out together--see how many civilians they can mulch in an hour. Highest score gets the prize. There was hardly any hesitation from the other two and they went off to eat. C.ap knew how to win this though. H.ulk is a big brute, but he's not subtle, and smaller people are usually able to get around him if needed. Thor has charisma on his side but he's also a show-off that gets easily distracted. C.ap knew that if he was meticulous, he'd win, so he made sure there was a system to it. He used a mall as his personal hunting grounds, slurping down shoppers and workers alike. They'd disappear into his gut, get maybe a second to realize they're fucked, and then his abs flex and they're dead with a belch. With that system in place, C.ap far exceeds what the other two are able to do. H.ulk prowling the streets left a few empty cars around, and the trashed bus gave him a handful of meals, but he only got half of what C.ap was able to. T.hor took on bars and was able to empty a few out, but he took too much time showing off and wasn't able to win. In the end, C.ap came out victorious, his gut demolishing over fifty men in just an hour with barely an inch of pudge to show for it. He got his congratulations from the other two and, of course, the question of what he's won. The easy answer--a couple of massive meals. H.ulk went down first, a sore loser to the end as he tries his best to fight back. He was strong and bulky, but C.ap was able to gulp him down after starting with his fists. He roared a lot once he was tanked and it took C.ap a few tries, but eventually, that massive brute started breaking down with each flex. Thick bones snap and crunch, powerful muscles get mulched down into slop, and H.ulk lets out one last defiant roar before C.ap lets out his own in a massive belch that snuffs out the last of his meal's fight. Through it all, T.hor just watched. He didn't seem too worried about what happened, thinking his godhood would keep him safe from C.ap's gut. So he didn't resist at all when he was greedy slurped down by his teammate and left to stew in what remained of H.ulk. T.hor was right, at first, with C.ap's gut flexing over and over but not doing any damage for a while. But that resistance didn't last when C.ap presses his gut against a wall and flexes with all his might. T.hor let out a cry, followed by a series of crunches as his body is forced to compact. A thick belch escapes C.ap, shaking the building he used to flatten his teammate down to its foundation. He proved himself the superior predator and it felt good. He'll have to find more people to do this with.

He wasn't called the god of thunder for nothing. The booming belch that roared out of him was evidence enough of that. His guts were on full processing ever since that little rat (or didn't he want to be called a raccoon?) had tried to make a mockery of his name. Well, he'd done well to prove his point after slurping the animal up with ease. He wasn't exactly very solid anymore to actually hear the booming belches roaring out of T.hor, but the god figured that he had still proven his point in the end. The worst part was definitely going to be the way he boomed with his backside once that little rat-raccoon-thing was a bit more processed. He still hasn't figured out how to make those quiet yet...

T.hor groans softly, taking a final gulp to drop the last of the goons down into his gut. He swears, the crime in these American cities is absolutely insane! Every day it feels like he's devouring an entirely new group of men trying to form some kind of criminal organization. He belches, rattling the walls with it as his guts start to groan and churn heavily. They weren't any more quiet than his gas was, each thick gurgle and groan enough to shake the ground under him. All that squirming didn't help, either, the sloshing from such an active gut akin to ocean waves right before a storm hits. He belches again, knocking some things off a nearby shelf as he gives his gut a few solid smacks. "Settle down in there, will you? I have another group to get and you're all making so much--" Another huge belch roars out of him. Maybe he'd be better off letting this group churn up first.