#vore fic

Gently yet firmly, he grasped Dwight's chin, facing him and his eyes towards the mask. He didn’t even flinch, even when he made sure that he'd made eye contact with Dwight, there as still no reaction, only a buzzing emptiness behind his eyes.

“Damn it!” Evan snarled, pounding a fist into the ground. Of course Herman had to fuck around and break his prey. That bastard could never leave other's business alone, even if it got him killed.

Dwight's body went rigid as he suddenly let out a scream, before just as quickly returning to his vegetative state.

(…)

Dwight didn’t know where he was when he came to. His thoughts felt foggy, head spinning, and his whole body ached. The last thing he remembered was seeing the doctor approach him outside of a trial.

Shit, he must’ve been caught, especially with the way his head felt like it had been drowned in static.

(…)It was hot, humid, and cramped too.

…

As he pushed against his confinement, mind slowly clearing, the realization hit him like a freight train. A stuttering breath, as he tried not to cry, knowing <i>he</i>'d be able to hear him.

He’d been in here enough times to know for sure, he was trapped inside the Trapper’s stomach.

Of course. <i>Of course.</i> It didn't matter what killer had caught him outside of trials, <i>he</i> would always find him. Only this time, he'd kept his promise.

Eyes watering, breaths uneven, he struggled to choke back the sobs, anxiety and terror overwhelming him.

There was no safety in a trial's finite time to save him this time. He didn’t even know for sure if the entity would pluck him from his guts for a trial, or if he was now trapped until the Trapper decided to let him go.

It was too much. He couldn’t. He couldn’t.

A sharp gasp, a sniffle, breaths coming faster, louder, until the first sob choked out of his throat, and rest broke through like an open dam. Trapped inside the Trapper, Dwight couldn’t help but wail, tears streaming down his face, overwhelmed.

He couldn't stop. He couldn’t stop.

He hid his face in his knees, not that it would matter, when he captor surrounded him utterly completely. Helpless, terrified, and unable to do anything but squirm and cry.

Suddenly he was squished, his already tight prison made smaller, as he felt a hand press against him, in a slow stroking motion.

“Shhhhh, I’ve got you little rabbit, the doctor can hurt you anymore.”

Dwight's sobs stuttered, but didn't stop. Of course the bastard thought it was the doctor, and not himself, that he was crying over. In a moment of (hatred?fury?), he shoved the stomach wall, hard, before the sobs took over once more.

Trapper didn't seem to care*, his hand lifting from his middle for just a moment, before with an amused hum, he went back to petting him once again.

“Told you I'd put you back where you belonged.

…

The knife!

Dwight didn't care that Trapper had been the one to gift it to him. If he wasn't gonna let him out, he was gonna carve his way out.

His hands flew to his pocket, only for his fingers to never find its shape.

Where, where was it? He'd made sure not to waste it in trials, and he'd been allowed to keep it since that day. So where, where the hell…

His hands searched the stomach, despite how much it made him recoil, diving into the small pool of liquid beneath him, but nothing. Nothing but (word for the stomach walls movement) fleshy walls.

“No no no, it was right here! Why, why now…”

He hiccupped with another bout of sobs threatening to wrack his body, feeling dizzy with a new wave of panic. He hadn't even meant to mutter the words aloud, almost not registering the sound of his voice over the noisy guts around him.

“You can have it back once I’m satisfied.”

His prison shakes as the stomach is patted, a whimper (description) as he curled in on himself.

Of course. Of course he wouldn’t forget. How cruel that the one who wanted to keep him the most knew about his only way out.

“…how long?”

“As long as I like.”

Of course. Should've just guessed the answer was forever.

…

“Please let me out. Please.”

.

(Non canon?? Or maybe canon? Unsure.)

(He faints)

Dwight had been unresponsive for awhile now. He'd felt him go limp soon after he'd started begging.

Evan grew worried. Was he digesting him? He didn't want to. He wanted to keep feeling his weight, his squirms and struggles, keep his taste on the back of his tongue.

Anxiously, he poked and prodded at his gut, finding his shape still solid. Squeezing tight, waiting, fearing, he felt the small movements of his chest, of his breaths. Still alive.

Dwight had fainted.

Evan sighed, glad he wasn't dead, but still disappointed. He’d wanted more of his sweet little rabbit's squirms to savour, hear the way his voice cracked, and the satisfaction that no own else could have him but himself.

But now… something else festered. Regret.

Perhaps he’d pushed his treat too far.

…spits him out…

His little body shivered, now outside of the overpowering heat of his body, and likely cooled by the coating of saliva drying.

Subconsciously, Dwight snuggled against the warmth of his body, and Evan couldn’t help but chuckle. So afraid of being tucked away, and yet couldn’t resist yearning for his warmth.

(Dwight wakes.)

Consciousness rose in a slurry, Dwight first aware he was cold, but close to something warm. He snuggled against it, vision blurry, glasses missing.

He was out. He knew that much, based on the fact he could see, and could move. Must be back at the campfire, snuggling with his fellow survivors.

He didn't care it was embarrassing, the comfort was worth it.

Made him wonder who he was snuggled against though. Perhaps David? They were definitely not small, bigger than him.

As the hand rested on his back moved, Dwight couldn't help but feel like the callousness of it as oddly familiar, especially with how nicely his head fit into its palm.

Wait. Wait no, that couldn't be right. The Trapper, he wouldn't…

Cautiously, his hands reached up, exploring the shirt of the body he laid against, fingers trembling as the unmistakable shape of the Trapper's overalls straps was traced by them.

He’d been let out.

The Trapper seemed to notice his panic, smothering him against his chest, the hold of his hands becoming more firm. But Dwight didn’t care.

With a swift kick, he shoved his way off the killer's lap, tumbling to the floor.

…(makes a run for it)…

Large hands grabbed him as his fingers found the doorknob, and he froze.

“You'll walk into a trap without your glasses.”

He could probably feel his pulse through his fingers, especially with how much his body trembled with each beat.

“I’ll take my chances.”

Despite his efforts, there was no confidence in his voice. It cracked, trembled like his body, small and afraid.

He expected retaliation, smugness or cruelty, but instead,

“I’d rather you didn't.”

A hand moved to grasp his own, still gripping the knob. Gently, the large hand pulled his fingers away. And. And he let it.

“Can’t let you blindly wander into someone else's maw either.”

.