#venusaurvore

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.