#tw vore

They're sitting back, huffing and groaning because of the tension in their middle. It doesn't help that their prey is putting up quite a fight, too. They're jostling the pred's stomach, stretching it out even further. The tension and strain on their insides right now has the pred whining softly.

Over time, though, the prey slowly starts to lose their battle.

Constantly trying to push against a virtually impenetrable wall of flesh is a quick way to tire someone out. The pred's stomach finally settles down, turning into a soft dome of flesh. With the prey tired out and no longer fighting back, the pred's stomach is able to slowly constrict around their meal.

There's weak wiggling after the pred's stomach has tightened, but by that point, any further struggle is useless. Sometimes, there's even muffled sobbing or screaming by this stage... but nothing the prey does by this point matters.

The final nail in the coffin is the moment the pred's stomach lets out an almost exaggerated grumbling sound, followed by a weak, pained moan. Slowly, the sounds begin to ramp up in intensity. Wet gurgles and churns wrack the pred's belly.

There's no helping the prey by this point. The pred's stomach has laid claim to them. Once the pred's stomach begins churning so fast, it's already too late for the prey...

Oh, you poor thing. You're shivering. Terrified. Why don't I fix you a cup of tea, and then-

...I beg your pardon?

Oh... so... that's what you want? Are you sure...? That monster nearly did the same thing to you, so I thought-

...Well, okay. If you insist.

Your hands reach up, grazing my lips, and then they gently push into my mouth. My tongue lightly brushes against your hand, taking note of the flavor and texture. I can't help myself; my mouth waters a little, and I part my jaws, holding them wide open for you to stare into. I've heard people describing the feelings that flow through them as they stare down a pred's throat... but I can only try and guess what you're thinking and feeling. You still seem a little shaken up from the monster that tried to attack you, but-

My thoughts come to a screeching halt when you push yourself in. Your head hits my soft palette as you push insistently, and, on instinct, I swallow.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

...And then, finally, a deep, slow gulp pulls you in fully. My throat bulges out as you glide down into my body, and finally, you land in my stomach.

Monsters like us have a very sophisticated understanding of our own bodies. It's to the point that we can control our own digestion. It's admittedly a little hard; sometimes, it's like trying not to blink when you've held your eyes open for a while. Having prey in our stomachs just feels so good, and their squirmy little movements causes our stomach to send chemical signals to the brain, begging to start the pleasurable process of digestion...

But to you, I would never. You're too valuable, too precious. I'll do everything it takes to keep you safe, you have my word.

You will be digested by them for no other reason than the fact that you were their enemy. This is the natural consequence. Being their enemy, this is where you end up. An undignified end, treated as food for their body. Nothing close to being equals.

You feel them patting, rubbing their stomach. Obviously overjoyed. So happy to have finally defeated you. You feel their heart race, quick beating from overhead. Their body ecstatic, their mind and stomach both over excited at the prospect of digesting you.

You hear them say,

Mmmf… God, you're heavy in there…

They brag about winning, but their stomach is gurgling louder now so you cant hear them as easily. You feel them flop down, belly swaying, and you feels hands on the outside of the stomach, rubbing, kneading your form.

They tell you how satisfying that was. A good meal. A bit heavy, but oh, very satiating.

when the prey is mostly digested and pretty much just goop in the belly, but that used to be a whole person, so it's going to take a while for the body to process it

a pred sitting up from a nap and feeling their belly churn and gurgle, the wet sounds of their prey getting pushed through their intestines gurgling quietly

a pred who has to throw on pants, squishing their pliant belly to button their jeans

a pred whose tummy is morphed by their steering wheel as they head home from work, fighting back hiccups from the pressure

a pred who gets to lean back as someone rubs and plays with their belly, squishing and jiggling it, feeling how heavy it is despite so much having been digested