CraftyCarne Writes - Appetizer (Unbirth, Bondage)

by **CraftyCarneCafe** » Fri Jul 10, 2015 10:33 pm

The air was warm and sweet, the faintest tinge of chill on the breeze with the newly coming fall. At the front of the cafe, which was in a large, industrial building that had been re-purposed, a limousine drew to a stop. The engine idled with a purr and a manager hurried to open the door. As it opened, the insides were sumptuous, a rich, brilliant shade of red in what appeared to be crushed velvet. From within the depths slid a figure, decked in pearls and silks. Her white, curly fur was carefully groomed, her long, delicate muzzle expertly painted with makeups that made her eyes seem larger and smokier than they were. She gave a wolfish smile to the manager, a tall, slender iguana dressed in a polo shirt and slacks, before finally rising from her seat and brushing her blouse to smooth it.

“Miss LaRue, what a pleasure to have you join us once again,” the iguana crooned, bowing at the waist and waiting for her to step away from the vehicle before closing the door behind her.

The poodle gave a breathy laugh and waved one of her slender hands. “Charles, I called ahead. You knew that I would be here.” The limo pulled away and she let the manager take her hand and guide her toward the front door of the building.

“That does not lessen the pleasure in the least,” he replied, his thin mouth drawing into what could be considered a smile for a reptile. “We already have your dining room prepared for you.”

She waited for him to open the front door for her, the front of the building seeming austere and plain, but the lobby that it opened into was pleasantly appointed, with thick, overstuffed couches and soft, woven rugs on the floor. Several doors led from the lobby and behind the desk sat a plump, cheerful hen, her feathers slightly rumpled and her dress, which was sensible and well-made, seemed outright dowdy compared to Miss LaRue's outfit. Her eyes brightened in a smile and she stood quickly, her beak opening as she spoke.

“Coco! How lovely to see you again!” She bustled her way out from behind the desk and reached with both her hands to take hold of the poodle's fingers. She didn't seem to mind that her side pushed the manager away, though he looked affronted.

“Marjorie!” Coco leaned down to place a kiss on each of the hen's cheeks before hugging her with one arm. “It feels as though it's been ages since we last saw one another. How was your vacation?”

“Wonderful! Wonderful,” she clucked in answer. “Paris is as beautiful as you told me it would be. Harold and I had-” The hen was cut off as the manager cleared his throat sharply.

“I'm certain that Miss LaRue would love to hear all about your journey, but I'm afraid that her dining room is already waiting for her. Could you, perhaps, check her in, Marjorie?” His eyes were sterner than his voice, but it was enough to make the receptionist move back behind the desk.

“Oh, of course. I'm so sorry about that, Miss LaRue. Let me just-” she tapped at a few keys on her computer and then quickly held out a golden keycard. “You're all set. Do have a delicious dinner and thank you for your patronage of the Carnivore Cafe.”

Charles blustered for a moment more before taking the key from his coworker. “This way, Miss LaRue,” he stated with syrupy sweetness, moving toward one of the doors that led into the back.

“Thank you, Marjorie. I'll drop by and we can chat after my dinner,” Coco waved her fingertips at the hen before following after the manager, moving with the smooth, practiced steps.
There were more doors in the hallway, their spacing far apart at first, but growing closer together as the hallway progressed. Charles led the poodle only a short distance before using her key to open the door and passing the card to her after. He held the door and bowed to her once more. “A server will be with you very shortly, Miss LaRue. Is there anything that I could get for you in the meantime?”

“No, thank you, Charles. I'm certain that you have important work to be doing.” Coco stepped past him and into the room, closing the door behind her before he could answer.

It was hardly fair to refer to the room as a dining room, though that was certainly a use for it. More like a small apartment than a private room in a restaurant, it featured a lavish bed against the back wall, as well as a couch against the left wall and a small, private dining area, set for one, beside the right wall. There was also a cabinet near the bed that she knew from experience held a television and various game systems.

She moved gracefully across the room to the couch, placing her clutch on the table before it and curling herself upon the cushion, one elbow resting on the arm. The poodle closed her eyes and gave a low, relaxed sigh. The furniture was soft and plush, though there was the faintest scratchiness to the fabric when she ran her fingertips over it, evidence of the treatments that it had undergone to protect it from the many different substances that it came in contact with on a daily basis. Soft music was piped into the room via the speakers that were hidden behind sconces at the corners of the room. The gentle lilt of violin and piano lulled her and she was tempted to retire to the bed and drift off.

A soft knock at the door reminded her of why she had come though (as if she could ever truly forget), and she opened her eyes before calling out. “Enter.”

The man that stepped through must have been new, as she didn't recognize him, and she had thought that she knew all of the staff from her various visits. “Madame,” he stated before bowing deeply. His features were slender, somewhat catlike, but with a muzzle that was too long and ears too rounded. He wore a suit that was far more fitting for the surroundings than the polo shirt that Charles had worn. “I am Jerome, and I will be your server this evening.” He made his way across the carpet, which muffled his footsteps, and passed her a menu that was obviously freshly written out. “Would the lady care for some wine, or perhaps an appetizer before her meal?”

An appetizer sounded divine, now that she considered it. She smiled and trailed her finger down the paper. “An appetizer, yes. Something- particularly fresh. Wild caught, if possible.”

“Of course, madame.” He waited a moment more before reminding, “And to drink?”

“Just a soda today. Diet. I have work this evening.” She continued to peruse the menu as he disappeared, his retreating back giving her the opportunity to study his tail, which was also particularly long for a cat, and striped with rings. Perhaps she would ask Marjorie what species he was after her dinner.

Coco had finally come to a decision on her dinner when Jerome returned. He bore a small platter in hand, with a covered lid, as well as a glass filled with soda and ice. Condensation slithered down the sides of the glass. He placed both carefully on the table before her. “Would the lady care for more time, or would you like to order now?”

She turned the menu and pointed toward one of the small images that had been pasted onto it. “Is this one available still?”

“Oh, of course, madame. Only freshly caught, as well. Would you prefer your dinner served rare or well done?”

Her smile flashed fang at Jerome, but he didn't seem bothered by that. Likely he had seen far more impressive ones than hers since starting employment at the cafe. “Very rare,” she cooed to him. “Give me thirty minutes or so to enjoy my appetizer before you bring my dinner.”

The server bowed once more. “As you say. You have only to ring if you need anything and I will be with you shortly.”

He left once again, the door clicking softly as it locked behind him. Coco took a sip of her soda before turning her attention to the covered dish. She could hear small whimpers rising from it, though they were muffled, and she unfolded her legs from beneath her as she reached for the lid. She pulled it away to reveal her appetizer, a small figure that was bound by the wrists and ankles with twine, another length of it holding his muzzle closed.

The tiny thing stared up at her and writhed upon the leaf of lettuce that he was displayed upon, keening sounds escaping him as he stared up at her. He was entirely nude, save for the ropes that held him, and it took her only a moment to identify his species. A mouse, or perhaps a rat, with black fur that covered all but his tail and the very tips of his ears. Those were white and for a moment she wanted to laugh as the idea crossed her mind that he had been dipped in dark chocolate and only those had been left uncovered.

“You poor little darling. Didn't anyone ever warn you about going out alone at night?” She set the lid aside and plucked up her prey in one hand. He seemed even smaller against her palm and his tail whipped desperately as he tried once more to escape. Coco bent her head to drag her tongue slowly up his body, which made him thrash desperately. “Do you know, I wonder, what I have in store for you?”

Her other hand rose and she used a delicately painted nail to ease the twine off of his mouth. “Let me go! Please! Help!” he shouted the moment that it fell away.

Coco gave a warm laugh at that. “These rooms are sound proofed, darling. No one is going to help you. You're all mine.” She drug her nail down his chest, idly scratching him. He trembled again and tried to work his hands loose, but they were stuck fast behind his back.

“Please! Don't eat me,” he cried again as he strained against his bonds.

“Eat you? Oh, no, darling. I prefer larger meals than you.” She gave a wicked smile at that, laying him back down upon the lettuce before she adjusted her skirt. “You're merely the entertainment.” The motion of the satin revealed her body, the soft, curled fur of her thighs, the neatly trimmed hair between them. She spread her legs and lazily placed one foot upon the table, her knee bent to open her body.

He screamed again as her fingers wrapped around him and brought him to her mouth, tongue sliding across him again in long, slow drags. Each brush of the warm, yielding flesh dampened him, and soon he was wet with saliva, his fur clinging to his skin. “There. Nice and slick,” she murmured, her breath warm across his face. He turned his head away, still screaming, though his voice was hoarse from it. “Do be good and wiggle for me.”

She brought her hand downward, slipping him past the edge of her skirt. Her scent was thick and cloying so close to her body, flowery soap and the oils of her fur and the heady, overpowering musk of her womanhood. He struggled in her hand, trying to escape as she used two fingers to spread her folds, revealing the pink button of her clitoris and the hairless, fluid slick entrance to her body. She was obviously aroused, the droplets clinging and stretching as she held herself open and brought him closer.

He could feel the heat that radiated from her as she brought his face so near that he could have licked her if he hadn't been desperately trying to pull himself away. “Mmm... you're going to feel amazing,” he heard her voice rumble before she brushed his muzzle against her flesh.

Coco moaned in delight, sliding his face up and down against her. His whiskers, small and delicate, tickled at her, and his nose she ground against her clitoris. He tried again to scream, but she muffled it by thrusting her hips forward and filling his mouth with her pink button. He could have bitten her then, of course, but it wouldn't have been the first time, and his mouth was too full to close as she ground him there. More fluid dribbled softly from her and she finally pulled her hand back slightly, giving his aching jaw a rest, before she pushed him against her entrance.

There was resistance at first. No matter how aroused she was, her body was never quite ready to accept intrusion without pushing back. Her eyes closed and she leaned her head back as she twisted him against her tunnel, feeling his nose enter first, widening her, before she gave another push and his head slipped past as well. “Aah...” He was thrashing again, struggling against her, and she had to adjust her grip before pushing his shoulders inside her.

She clenched around him, warm, muscled walls that were coated in sticky, clinging strands of her fluids rippling around his body. Another thrust and she felt his elbows enter her. She released her folds and let them press against him as well, feeling his tail brush over them as he tried to jerk and kick his way free. The twine held him well, though, preventing him from doing more than push against her weakly.

Coco set one finger against the base of his tail and gave another push, a low groan of ecstasy pulled from her as she felt him disappearing deeper into her. He was gone to the waist now, a delightfully wriggling pressure within her, but his legs hung still and she was greedy to have them inside.

Still, she preferred to tease herself, so she gripped his legs with two fingers and drew him back slightly, easing him outward until only his head remained before she thrust him inward again. Her muscles gripped and squeezed around him as she toyed with his body, using him as though he were nothing but a particularly energetic vibrator. Still he thrashed and writhed, and she loved every moment of it, forcing him deeper now with each thrust.

She panted, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth as she felt his hips slide past her lower lips, another long moan pulled from her chest as she felt her orgasm rushing toward her. She gave him one final push, releasing his legs then to let her muscles take over as her climax caused them to ripple and pull, sucking him deeper inside her while she squealed and arched in pleasure. Her feminine fluids dribbled past him, making the slide easier as her body pulled him completely within her, even the tip of his tail disappearing into her depths.

Coco moaned and let her body go limp upon the couch, her foot sliding to the floor so that she could stretch her toes out and wiggle them against the carpet. He was still moving within her, faint squirms and twitches that she could feel at her very core and she sighed happily and leaned her head against the back of the couch.

“Mmm... such a little darling.” She arched once more as her prey gave a particularly aggressive thrash within her, stretching her body around him temporarily before he, too, went still, whether from exhaustion or acceptance of his fate. “If they came up with such a lovely treat as a mere appetizer, I can't wait to see what they have in store for my dinner.”

by **xanderman** » Sat Jul 11, 2015 5:53 am

Very Nicely written

I look forward to reading more

by **CraftyCarneCafe** » Sat Jul 11, 2015 1:03 pm

xanderman wrote:Very Nicely written I look forward to reading more

Thank you! I plan to add more very soon.

by **CraftyCarneCafe** » Sat Jul 11, 2015 5:02 pm

Coco didn't have long to wait. She could still feel the little appetizer squirming inside of her when there was a soft tap at the door. The poodle didn't bother to adjust her skirt. What did it matter if anyone saw the state that she was in? It would have been obvious the use that she had put her little treat to just as soon as anyone saw the state of the couch that she rested on.

The door opened and Jerome was there. If he thought anything of her disarranged attire, he didn't show it. “Dinner is served, madame.” The spotted creature stepped through the door, leading a nude figure, trussed with ropes around his wrists and a hood over his head. A rope led from his neck to Jerome's hand as well, and the server crossed the room before passing the rope to her. “Would you like your drink refreshed?”

She took the rope in hand and glanced at her nearly full glass. “No, thank you. I believe that will be all. Though...” she paused and he looked at her expectantly. “Would you be a dear and arrange for a wake up call in five hours? I like to sleep after a good meal.”

“Of course. Do you prefer the intercom, or should I return to wake you personally?”

“Personally, please. I'm such a lay-about that I would probably miss the intercom.” She offered him an engaging smile and he bowed in return. The hooded figure that stood beside the couch wriggled restlessly, trying at the bonds around his wrist. Coco reached out to slide one trim nail over his shaft, causing him to jump in surprise and give a muffled sound.

“As you like, madame.” The server turned on his heel and exited the room, the electronic lock once more activating as the door closed behind him.

Coco took a few minutes to sip at her soda as her dinner continued to shuffle and tug at the ropes. He had a very pleasant form, built with lean muscle and a slender shape. She suspected that he was some form of weasel or mink, but she would have to see his face to be certain. The poodle set her glass aside and gave a firm tug on the rope that she held. It made the hooded figure bend to keep himself from strangling. A second tug and he dropped down to his knees on the floor. She smiled in satisfaction at that. “Good boy,” she crooned, though she knew that he couldn't hear her, not yet.

Carefully she unfastened the ribbon that held his hood in place and pulled the black canvas away. Soft brown eyes blinked rapidly as light flooded them suddenly. Coco gave a delighted exhalation at the sight of his face. An otter, not a mink, his mouth bound and a pair of noise canceling earphones keeping him locked in silence. He shook his head and tried to speak, lips moving slightly, but only muffled sounds arising. His whiskers were swept back beneath the gag, but would have framed his handsome face delightfully if they hadn't been. Coco quickly untied the rope so that she could see him properly, then pulled away the headphones and lay them on the table.

“My, you're such a handsome one,” she cooed as he shook his head again and worked his mouth to get the feeling properly back into it.

“Look, lady, this is all a huge mistake. You've got to help me get out of here.” He turned his head toward the door, bound hands pulling close against his chest. “I'll do anything. Just let me go.”

Coco kept her hand on the rope around his neck, but reached with the other to slide her fingers slowly over his slender length. “Anything? Anything I want?” He trembled at the touch and brought his eyes to stare at her once again.

“Within reason,” he added, even as his shaft began to stir beneath the touch. “But you've got to get me out of here.”

The poodle smiled and leaned closer, brushing her lips across his throat. “Come to bed with me. I'll untie you and then, once we're done, I promise that you won't have to stay in this building any longer.”

His body jerked and his erection swelled to half-mast. “That's it? I just have to have sex with you?” His whiskers twitched and she gave a giggle as they tickled at the shortly trimmed fur of her neck.

“That's all. And I promise that it will be fun for both of us,” she murmured, placing a trail of tender kisses along his throat.

The otter wiggled back on his knees, raising his hands toward her in offering. “It's a deal.” He held still while she slipped loose the knots at his wrists and then loosened the noose around his throat. She let the ropes fall to the floor as he stood and rubbed his wrists and hands. His eyes roamed over her and he grinned broadly. “It's been a while since I've been with somebody, and I can't think of anybody I've slept with as pretty as you.”

Coco gave him a coy smile as she stood and pulled her skirt higher, so that it was around her waist. “Then don't keep me waiting,” she replied, moving toward the bed. She stripped off her shirt as she went, her breasts falling free once they were no longer constrained by the tight fabric. Each step that she took caused her inner walls to squeeze around the tiny rodent that she had played with earlier, and he wriggled deliciously inside her in protest.

The poodle dropped onto the bed, her tail wagging for a moment before she rolled onto her back and propped herself up on her elbows. Her breasts were full and hung softly against her stomach, the nipples pert with her arousal. She spread her legs to display her damp, eager entrance to the otter as she raised an eyebrow at him expectantly.

He didn't take his time before joining her, hopping onto the bed and laying down beside her as he reached with one hand to toy with her breasts. She gave a delighted moan as his fingers tweaked the sensitive rise of one nipple, rolling it in his fingertips for a moment. Coco leaned closer and kissed him in a hungry, urgent manner that was returned in kind. Her thigh nudged against his hard shaft and he pressed against her with his hips before rearranging himself so that he was on top of her.

She lay back and arched her throat as he began to kiss and lick at her nipples, adoring them with his mouth while one hand lifted each of her breasts in turn, the other holding himself up as while he ground his length against her wetness. “Don't think we need any lube with how wet you are. You ready for me to rock your world?”

Coco smiled instead of rolling her eyes at the dated phrasing. “Oh, absolutely, you bad boy,” she told him, bending one knee to open herself more. He adjusted his hips and began to slowly press his tip into her. Her muscles squeezed around him, setting another fit of trembling wriggles from the tiny prey that was unwillingly joining in their sex. As the otter pushed deeper he paused, lifting his head to peer at her quizzically.

“Do you have a diaphragm in or something?” He gave a small thrust that nudged at the squirming lump within her, pushing it slightly deeper.

“Something like that,” she answered coyly. “Don't worry about it. You can push it as deep as you want.” Coco rolled her hips upward to force her partner more deeply between her folds, gasping softly as the gesture urged her appetizer deep within her. “Aah...”

The mouse flailed within her, his desperate struggles making her body thrum with lust, even as the otter began to thrust against her. He was rough and not particularly good, but it didn't matter so much, given the extra stimulation from the living toy. Coco wrapped her arms around him and looped one leg over his hip, using it to guide his enthusiastic efforts.

At first he made it a point to attend to her breasts still, kissing and sucking and giving small nips to the soft flesh, but soon he was too lost in his own pleasure to do more than hold himself up as he drove his slender shaft into her body again and again. He panted against her throat and rocked himself deeply inside her while she crooned and moaned encouragement. Neither of them spoke past broken gasps and groans and he didn't seem to notice as she began to lick the top of his head with slow drags of her tongue.

He tasted delicious. Musky and warm, with a faint flavor of salt beneath his fur. She gave a gasp as a second climax washed over her, causing her muscles to grip in an iron vice around his shaft and the small prisoner within her passage. He shook against her and groaned raggedly as the increased pressure milked him of his own orgasm, warm semen flowing into her body in thick spurts.

The otter grew lax, slumping on top of her and Coco smiled wickedly. Perfect. She squirmed upward slightly on the bed so that his shaft slipped out of her before sliding her hands beneath his arms and pulling him upward on top of her. He tipped his head back to peer into her face and gave her a happy, dazed smile. She dipped her head down to kiss him lazily, her tongue brushing over his muzzle softly.

He closed his eyes and gave a happy moan, wiggling to get himself comfortable on top of her. She gave another slow lick, savoring his flavor, then parted her jaws, placing one hand against the back of his head, cradling it. The hand under his arm still pulled again, drawing him upward so that she could fit her muzzle over his face.

The feeling of her teeth sliding past his cheeks drew him from his stupor and he blinked inside her mouth, starting to protest and try to pull away. Her hands tightened and she wrapped one leg across his rear, keeping him from being able to get enough leverage to escape. Her tongue brushed over the underside of his chin and she moaned around him, the hand on the back of his head pushing him deeper into her waiting maw. Her saliva slickened his face and the flesh of her cheeks muffled his cries as his nose pressed against the back of her throat.

He struggled, trying to push at her chest to get away, but his progress barely slowed. She swallowed around his head, the firm muscles of her throat capturing his muzzle and pulling it deeper. Her jaws stretched even as they compressed his lithe, slender form. Another swallow and her neck bulged as his head was pulled into it. The otter thrashed against her, but it was too late for him now. The hand that had cradled his head moved to grip his ribs and she pulled upward, even as she continued to swallow, gulping him down in eager, greedy swallows. Her breasts rose as her ribs were forced upward by the pressure of his head slipping beneath them. His shoulders stretched her throat to the utmost and her teeth skimmed against his stomach as she shifted her grip. He was long and slim, but still large enough to be troublesome.

Coco wasn't deterred by the effort. She swallowed hard, feeling as the muscles of her throat squeezed and pulled at the squirming, writhing prey. Faintly she could hear his voice, high, terrified screams within her as his face was forced against the upper sphincter of her stomach, pressure for a moment, and then his muzzle slipped throat and he began the slide into her waiting belly. She gave a delighted groan as his spent shaft slid over the tip of her tongue and she lapped at it for a moment, teasing him with more pleasure.

He didn't seem to appreciate her efforts, instead trying once more to break free. She gave a few final licks to his length, cleaning it of her fluids before she swallowed again and felt her jaws spread around the bones of his hips. Only his legs and tail were free now and she used one hand to help and hold him upward, the other reaching between her legs to tease at her folds, the warm leak of liquids from between them.

Once more she could hear him screaming, though now it was as much a sensation as it was any sound. Her stomach had stretched and distorted, forming a sizeable lump upon her midsection. She gulped around his thighs, pausing to take shallow, panting breaths as his body pushed at her lungs and made it more difficult to breath. With only his calves and tail left outside of her, she released his weakly kicking legs and instead rested her hand upon her stomach, stroking there, even as she dipped two fingers into her stretched entrance and stroked herself toward one final peak of pleasure.

She lay her head back upon the pillow, moaning as she swallowed again and felt more of his body slipping into her, teasing herself by making the very end come slowly. Another swallow and now she could almost close her mouth. She rubbed her hand across the wriggling lump of her stomach, the muscle and skin stretched tight, sometimes bulging obscenely as he would force a hand of his face against it, fighting for escape. The poodle drew her tongue across his toes and gulped again, drawing him down. Her cheeks and jaws slid back into their normal shape as his feet passed into her throat. He couldn't kick anymore, not with the tight muscles gripping him and squeezing him down, down, down, until finally even his feet and tail slicked their way through the sphincter that guarded her stomach.

His wriggling motions inside her spurred the movements of her fingers and she gasped as her body squeezed around both the otter and the mouse, muscles tensing as a quivering rush of ecstasy passed through her entire form. She panted heavily, her breasts heaving as she took deep breaths, filling her lungs. Once more her stomach bulged and quavered, his struggles making her moan.

A belch rose in her throat and she let it, the hot air rushing from her and sounding blaringly over the faint music. Coco gave a delighted grunt and flopped bonelessly onto the bed. Her stomach writhed and gurgled as it began to fill with enzymes that would slowly, over the course of a few hours, digest her captured prey into nothing more than nourishment. She smiled with tired satisfaction and stroked her stomach once again, slowly.

“Mmm... I said that I would get you out of here... I never said that it would be alive.”

by **1ring42** » Sat Jul 11, 2015 11:43 pm

Damn that's hot.

by **CraftyCarneCafe** » Sat Jul 11, 2015 11:53 pm

1ring42 wrote:Damn that's hot.

Thanks. I appreciate the feedback.

by **sharkdude40** » Sun Jul 12, 2015 12:51 pm

Well done Carne! This story was a great read, hope to see more of your work soon!

by **CraftyCarneCafe** » Sun Jul 12, 2015 3:10 pm

sharkdude40 wrote:Well done Carne! This story was a great read, hope to see more of your work soon!

Thank you. I plan to continue this series with at least two more stories from the prey's point of view. I also plan to do other stories from the Carnivore Cafe featuring thus far unseen characters, both predator and prey.

by **CraftyCarneCafe** » Mon Jan 27, 2020 8:39 pm

Kenos Armit was, to be honest, quite impressed with himself. Admittedly, the three time Snaff Memorial Award winner was often impressed with himself, but this current state of affairs rather took the cake. He looked around himself, inspecting his surroundings appraisingly. It appeared to be a city, but not any that he recognized from his various travels on Tyria. White stone blocks made up the street surface, as well as the walls that demarcated the lanes. He could hear the roll of waves and the screams of seabirds, but it was obviously not Lion's Arch. The human city was nowhere near so clean as this one.

The Asura double checked the device that he wore on his belt, grinning a sharp toothed smile of delight as it confirmed his location via a message of 'Error: Location Not Found'. He was absolutely certain to be provided a seat on the Council after this creation! After all, Gate Technology was quite old hat, having even been miniaturized to the point that anyone could teleport to set waypoints whenever they chose from any location in Tyria. What hadn't yet been created, or at least not until now, he mused, was the ability to travel to locations that lacked a set waypoint or Gate. And yet here he was! A completely new and undiscovered location, and one that so far as he knew wasn't on any of the known maps of Tyria!
“Oh-ho-ho... Kenos, you're a shoe-in this time. They'll have to accept my genius for this one,” he crowed out in praise of himself. He brought his hand up to inspect the small, metal box that it held, an item that he had tentatively named the Advanced Relocative Metamagical Individual Transport, or ARMIT for short. It appeared to be in good working order still, if a bit drained from the journey that it had carried him on. The lights on the surface were somewhat less bright than they had been when he first triggered it. Ah well. There would be time enough to charge it again later. For the moment there was exploration to be done and an acceptance speech to write.

He set into motion, walking along one of the white walled corridors at an easy pace. Direction wasn't really a factor, at least at the moment, and so he didn't pay particular attention to his path. He did pass by a few figures that, based on their height, must have been other Asura, though their skin seemed abnormally pale and their bodies far chubbier than most. Perhaps they were especially well to do? Or a new subspecies? A look toward the face of one, however, sent him nearly reeling back.

What horrific mutations had taken place?! Their mouths were so small! Their eyes so abnormal! And their ears! They must have suffered some horrendous accident to have such tiny, malformed ears! The engineer turned away from the horrid thing and scrambled in the opposite direction, his expression both fearful and disgusted.

He kept his head down now, rather unnerved by the potential of seeing more of those terrifying mutants. With his eyes trained on the ground, it was rather difficult to be certain of where he was going, and so he stretched out one hand, placing it against one of the white stone walls and moving forward steadily. His ears caught the sound of hammer on anvil and it was in that direction that he aimed his feet, certain that he would find kindred spirits among more technologically oriented minds. Or, if nothing else, a way to recharge his device. Whichever worked, it was all the better to be away from any place that could create... those things. Whatever they had been.

An idea came to mind and he shuddered, realizing that they had looked almost as though a human and an Asura had somehow crossbred and the offspring gathered the worse traits of each. Blasphemous! The wall that his hand on fell away and he stopped, finally daring himself to raise his head, as the clang of metal on metal was loud enough to certainly be quite close.

A forge stood before him, one of the crude, haphazard things that humans often built, though this one appeared to be scaled for a Norn. And the creature that stood in front of the anvil, a hammer nearly as tall as Kenos himself clutched in one hand, seemed to be exactly that. Black, close cropped hair topped a head that was meters above the Asura's own, and below it were bulging muscles of bared shoulders and back. He was broad and his skin a dusky grey in color, and every blow of the hammer caused ripples to pass up his obscenely bulging arms.

Regardless, he was at least normal looking, and thus a stark and welcome counterpoint to the only other being that he had seen since his transportation. Kenos walked forward swiftly, looking up and calling out to the Norn. “Hello! You there! I am in need of assistance!”

The song of the hammer sang in his veins and thrummed through his heart. It rose and fell and he matched the tempo with his breathing. Beneath his hands and tools a form was taking shape, the heated metal warping and twisting like a bird in flight, the edges folding upward, only to be smoothed down again with steady blows. The red hot steel hissed and sizzled as his sweat dripped onto it, and the Roedagyn smiled, reveling in the burn of hard labor in his muscles.

He used his tongs to turn the metal for what would eventually be a breastplate, one that would be worn in glorious battle by one of the many gladiators that were traveling from Limsa Lominsa to the desert sands on the next airship. It was a special commission, and unlike the overblown frippery that so many of the gladiators were prone to, this was being made for strength and longevity. It would not look fancy, nor glamorous, but would last for many years and protect the vitals of the one that wore it. The way that armour should do.

Crushing Hammer was focused on his task, his attention centered on the flow of the song, when he was rather rudely interrupted. Something, likely a Lalafel, given the height, was tugging at the soft material of his tunic. Or perhaps it was a lost child, which softened his irritation immediately. He used his tongs to thrust the breastplate into the large bucket of water at his side, cooling it instantly and preventing the heat from warping it further until he was able to return to the shaping. His hammer he lay upon the anvil and only then did he turn and look down on... what in the Twelve was that monstrosity?

It was indeed the size of a Lalafel, but while those had lovely, trustworthy faces, this had a wide, mottled grey face with too large eyes and a mouth that nearly split its expression in half. Its ears were large and splayed out to the sides, the edges heavily tattered, looking like the wings of a bat had been affixed to the sides of its head. And the mouth, now that he was looking, was filled with teeth that appeared like needles. It was gibbering in some unknown tongue and he found himself concerned that it was some foul creature come to curse him, though for what misdeed he wasn't certain.

“Ah- Saluton. Mi estas Kenos Armit. Mi estas fremdulo ĉi tie. Mi bezonas vian helpon," it gabbled as he stared down at it. It paused, and the expression looked expectant, or at least so much as he could surmise from that rather disfigured visage.

He pointed a finger at his own chest, speaking slowly, as though that would help make certain that it understood. "You are speaking to me?"

However much it might have understood, it seemed to take the question as encouragement. "Ho bone, vi aŭskultas nun. Mi bezonas potencan fonton por mia aparato ĉi tie kaj dankus, se vi povus provizi tian aferon. Mi devos reveni al mia propra patrujo." As it spoke it raised a small device made of metal, aiming it toward Crushing Hammer. His back stiffened at the thing, which was laden with flashing lights and strange protrubences, surely a weapon of some nature. He raised his hands, taking a worried step back as he eyed the mechanism. How did it work? Would he have time to grab his hammer and crush the creature should it attack? Or would he be killed in an instant? There didn't appear to be much time to decide.

"Ne, ne, ne, vi granda lumo. Revenu ĉi tien! Mi bezonas vian helpon per ĉi tio! Ĝi estas senkulpa! Rigardu!" The creature stepped forward, waving the device threateningly toward Crushing Hammer, and he gasped, trying to take another step back, only to have his foot land on a mislain piece ingot of metal. The bar shifted beneath his foot, his balance upset, and as he flailed to try and arrest his fall he found himself tumbling forward. A shout escaped him, only to be suddenly cut off with a crude squelch of noise as he rather suddenly and startlingly found his mouth very, very full.

The pressure against the back of his throat made him gag, a tight squeeze around the wriggling, squirming figure that had become lodged there, and he swallowed despite himself as a sudden kick from the bizarre beast pushed it deeper into his maw. His hands found the ground, and he pushed upwards, assuming that it would lift him off of the creature, but it only came with him, and as it was brought up from the ground it began to squirm more fiercely, triggering him to swallow once more. He could feel the long, wide ears being pressed against the sides of his throat, a cough on his part bringing about another gasping, gulping swallow. There were tiny, sharp pricks against the insides of his throat, stimulating it further, and now he was realizing that his airflow was cut off as well. Crushing Hammer did his best to inhale through his nose, but there was only so much air that could pass the blockage. Dots of blackness encroached at the edges of his vision, and he brought his hands up again, this time in desperation. One broad palm was placed against the back end of the wriggling thing, pushing firmly as he began to swallow in earnest to clear his throat. Better to swallow it entirely and have to find a way to remove it after than for him to suffocate with it in place and both die.

Another hard push and swallow meant that now he could feel that oversized head pushing deeply into his throat, and he had to tip his head back to make room for it to pass downward. Its shoulders were smaller, and he accepted the small grace of the Twelve as they were quickly brought down with another gulp. The rest, a fairly small and not particularly broad package, was pushed inwards until only a pair of clawed, shoeless feet were left without, kicking urgently until he grabbed both and held them in one hand. He was breathing more easily now, and he could feel his stomach groaning as a far larger meal than he was ever accustomed to began to empty down into it.

Crushing Hammer steadied himself, holding the feet for a moment more before he gave another hard swallow, this time using his hand to push at the soles of the rapidly kicking figure. He felt claws against his tongue and began to swallow more hastily, hurrying to gulp down the last of the figure before it could claw him too much and do lasting damage. He gave a grunt as one final swallow pulled the feet into his throat, coughing again as he was able to bring his head forward with the passage of the massive lump down into his stomach. He could feel every inch of the writhing figure as it squirmed within him, spilling out into his stomach and causing it to swell and round beneath the muscles of his abdomen. He moved one hand to rub over it, amazed by the sensation of motion within, awkwardly looking around as he realized that not only did the fullness feel pleasant, but the wriggles were causing an unanticipated response from his own groin. Faintly he could hear what seemed to be muffled shouting, and he stroked over the bulge again, then let his hand drop lower, squeezing over his clothed length with a soft moan. It- was actually very pleasant. Full and writhing and the weight pressed downwards against certain things inside him that brought about fascinating tingles of pleasure. So long as the little thing kept moving he knew that it was alright... how much harm could there be in letting it stay just a little bit longer?

The Norn, for he was certain that was what it was, didn't seem to notice him when he first called out. Kenos frowned, then marched up to it, reaching to tug at the tunic that he wore, rather surprised that it wasn't wearing the traditional leather breeches favored by its race, though perhaps it was in response to the heat of the forge. A stronger tug and the male dunked the metal that it was working on into a large barrel of water, creating a massive hiss of steam upwards, then set the hammer down as well, turning to face him.

Well... he had to admit, that was not a pleasant looking Norn. The nose was broad and flattened, and though it did wear a beard, it was closely trimmed, with little in the way of braiding or ornamentation. It stared down at him and he spoke quickly, wanting to make certain that it would listen.

"Ah- hello. I am Kenos Armit. I am a stranger here. I need your help," he stated, smiling up at it broadly to show his good intentions.

The creature, perhaps a mutant as well, pointed a finger at its chest and spoke in a deep rumble of nonsense. "Du snakker til meg?"

None of that made sense, but at least it was listening. "Oh good, you're listening now. I need a power source for my device here and thank you if you could provide such a thing. I must return to my own homeland." He brought the ARMIT up to display it, still smiling as he did so, though it was with surprise as he saw the mutated Norn raise its hands and back away from him.

“No, no, no, you big lummox! Come back here! I need your help with this! It's harmless! Look!” Kenos waved his mechanism, preparing to turn it so that he could display it more easily, only for the man to step back again. He was just in the process of holding the ARMIT up towards the Norn when he widened his eyes in shock, realizing that the massive man was falling down towards him at a rapid pace. It must have lunged to attack! He stiffened with fear as it shouted out in rage, coming down suddenly and he feared that he would be crushed before suddenly- SQUELCH!

He found himself surrounded by hot, tight darkness, and he began struggling rapidly for escape. What had happened? Had it thrown some strange bag over his head? He tried to look around, his arm that had been raised pressing against something wet and squishing that suddenly clenched and drug him deeper. A gasp was torn from him, the air around him humid and foul, and he felt the tightness move further down his body. He tried to open his eyes, but there was only enough light to make out faint glistens in a black space, small writhes as there was another tight grip around him, then the horrifying sensation of his feet leaving the stone that they had been resting on. Kidnapped!

Kenos began to struggle tremendously now, only for it to trigger another clutch, and with this one he heard an ominous sound that he had not anticipated. GLURCK! His ears were pinned back as he found his head being forced into a tight, squeezing darkness, and then there was pressure against his rear, forcing him forward as he clawed weakly at the tight passage that he found himself in. It was with growing horror that he realized that he wasn't being kidnapped at all, but eaten! The foul creature, debased as it was, had decided to swallow him down as though he were not but some small morsel of food!

The pressure around him, as well as behind him, increased, and now the crushing squeezes of muscle were increasing. He could hear the throb of the monster's heart as it forced him downwards, and he tried again to free himself, but there was no purchase to be found in the slick, pressing darkness of the throat. It felt interminable, and he tried to thrash from side to side in hopes that it would make the mutant spit him out, but eventually he could feel as only his feet were held without, one massive hand gripping them to keep them from kicking. His head had pushed against a sphincter only shortly before, smearing it with saliva before the muscles spread and he found his face hovering over a stinking pit of heat that gurgled terrifyingly. The hand that had proceeded him he pulled close to his face, using what light there was from the ARMIT to see the pulsing, flexing walls of the chamber that groaned hungrily for his presence.

There was pressure against the soles of his feet, and a wrenching sensation as another swallow pulled him further into the stomach. He curled to keep his face and the device away from the pooled liquid at the bottom, his shoulders sliding inwards, then his back, further squeezes until he felt himself fall, landing in the tight, crushing chamber.

From without he could feel a new pressure, a hand he suspected, moving and prodding over him, and he threw himself into a violent fit of anger as he tried to force the stomach to release him, but to no avail. He shouted and cursed, but all that his rage earned him was the sound of a pleased moan, and so he scowled in disgust as he was stroked once again.

This was it, then. The end of his genius. An ignominious death for a life that should have been surrounded with greatness. He eyed the soft glow of the device that would have been his opus, and now had spelled his doom. The small gems set into it colored and dimmed, a gentle pulse not unlike that of the massive brute that had swallowed him, and suddenly he gasped as realization struck.

The ARMIT! He had it still! And with it, there was hope! He set to twisting dials and adjusting settings, quickly modifying the pathways that it had taken him through in an effort to reverse the flow through the aether, tracing back into his own lab. The walls squeezed around him, and the glurks and gurgles told him that there wasn't much time remaining. He gave one final modification, then hovered a clawed fingertip over the button before pressing it and triggering a flash of light...

Crushing Hammer sighed, stroking himself slowly as he stood in a shadow of the forge, enjoying the sensations of motion within him and the breadth of his hand upon his shaft without. The creature, whatever it was, had become more complacent, and he rubbed his free hand upon his stomach, petting it through his skin and muscle in reward for the pleasure that it supplied. He closed his eyes, feeling himself growing near to his completion, and drew a slow breath as he felt his sack draw upwards in anticipation. He moaned as the pleasure came, and with it his muscles clenched, squeezing around the warm, firm ball of flesh within until, as his seed burst from him, there was a sudden increase in heat within, and then an even more sudden and unexpected emptiness. He blinked, pressing his hand down on a stomach that had been rounded but was now flat, then looked down at his length in his hand and the mess upon the ground.

Had... had he somehow killed it in his moment of climax? He tensed his stomach, trying to feel for any extra bulk, but there was none. The Roedagyn stared down at his expulsion, then his stomach again, and slowly, awkwardly, pulled his clothing back into place.

He wasn't certain as to what had just happened, but he was certain of one thing... he was going to be trying this again later. Just to see what happened.

by **CraftyCarneCafe** » Mon Jan 27, 2020 8:42 pm

I’m going to be in so much trouble if I get caught, the thought crossed Mace’s mind, causing him to do his best to glance back over his shoulder and out the copy room door, though the effort was hindered by the presence of a squirming coworker half-down his throat. The centaur gave another swallow, trying to send the other man down to his temporary home in a gurgling stomach as quickly and quietly as possible.

It had been something of a whim, but one that he obviously couldn’t back out of now. The brown, lightly dappled pony had just been going into the copy room to pick up some printed pages when he noticed the other man standing with his back to the door, staring intently at the printer as though it held the secrets of the universe. At first Mace had been patient, saying nothing as he waited and watched the other very slowly poke the screen, then again when the machine failed to respond. Mace only recognized the man vaguely, one of the newer hires on a desk that the pony himself didn’t work for. And apparently too stupid to understand whatever message was written on the screen.

Mace had stepped closer, tail swishing with irritation, to try and see just what it was that the other was having trouble with and perhaps even offer some help, but he received an annoyed hand wave in response, the other man not even bothering to look back and see who was behind him. Had he done so, or even not been rude, then maybe what happened next wouldn’t have occurred. As it was, Mace wrinkled his nose at the gesture, giving a soft huff that brought the scent of a faintly spicy aftershave to him, the centaur catching notes of pear and cinnamon that made his stomach give a long, low growl.

There were very few places in the office that weren’t constantly on camera. The bathrooms, the nursing rooms, and the copy room were the only real rooms with privacy. Had it been anywhere else, Mace would never have even made the attempt, too certain to end up on camera. But there, in the seclusion of the copy room, with a man that smelled delicious and appeared to be an asshole, the temptation was just too much.

The pony had cast a glance over his shoulder, kicking one hoof back to partially close the copy room door before he took another step forward and opened his jaws wide. It had been a simple thing to lean forward, one arm reaching up to cover the man’s mouth and the other arm grabbing his chest to yank backwards so that his head was pushed into the waiting maw. Mace wasn’t a particularly tall pony, which was the primary source of difficulty. His boyfriend Geri would have had to lean downwards to swallow the human’s head, but for Mace it was more a matter of making the man bend backwards. He removed his hand from the others mouth, stifling the immediate yelp by giving another swallow that pushed the crown of his victim’s head into the upper portion of the centaur’s throat, sucking his cheeks and down to his chin into the mouth itself. He slid his tongue over the back of the man’s head, wetting the blonde strands to make them easier to swallow before giving another gulp. Now both of his arms were under the man’s back, helping to support him despite the awkward position, while he used his hands to pin the others arms in place. His throat strained to contain the head that continued inward with another gulp, and he took a step forward to put more pressure, his hands pushing to force shoulders to curl inward before he swallowed again.

His lips stretched wide, jaws almost snakelike as he took short, shallow breaths through his nose, filling his upper set of lungs with air to sustain himself before another swallow drew the human into his throat far enough to block airflow. The little voice in his head chose that moment to remind him of the only semi-legality of the situation, the fact that reformers or not, vore was frowned upon when done without the consent of the prey. The human didn’t know who he was, though, and there wouldn’t be DNA evidence once the reformers had completed their work of rebuilding the man, so really, as long as he swallowed him fully before the door was opened, and out of view of the cameras, it would be fine. Maybe.

The concerns didn’t stop him, another hearty gulp pulling enough that he could feel his upper stomach opening, the man’s head pushing into it as his stomach entered Mace’s mouth. He didn’t need to hold his arms now, instead moving his hands to support the human’s rear, lifting him off of the ground so that the centaur could swallow him in a more comfortable position. There was muffled shouting from beneath his hoodie, but in a call center that would be ignored fairly easily. Everyone was wearing headphones, after all, and likely it would be mistaken for another agent’s disgruntled caller. Mace backed up, using the width of his large, equine rump to wedge the door closed as he lifted the human upward, tipping his head back to allow gravity to assist in packing him away.

The width of the man’s shoulders was pushing down into his stomach now, and with that blockage removed he could breathe more easily. He licked at the jeans that the man wore, wishing he had been able to strip his victim first, but knowing that would risk opening him up for sexual harassment if he were caught. While unconsenting vore was a crime, the punishment was generally a mere slap on the wrist, while sexually harassing a coworker was absolutely a fireable offense.

His prey’s legs were kicking, pointing straight up in the air now, and Mace kept his hands on the man’s knees to ensure that he couldn’t bend them. He didn’t even need to swallow in this position, simply letting the wriggling and gravity work together to slide the other slowly down into his stomach. Already his belly was bulging very impressively, and he wished that he could have his hands free to stroke over it, but that would take a few more swallows. The man shouted again, his head being forced against a tight ring of muscle, smearing tingling juices against his skin before it started to slowly yawn open for him. Mace groaned softly around the upper thighs of the human as he felt him starting to be pushed further down, into the far larger chamber of the centaur’s equine stomach.

The pony gulped now, feeding more of his victim into himself until the human’s knees were captured in his mouth, unable to bend at all now and freeing his hands so that he could stroke and rub against his stomach, enjoying the blissful stretch even as it slowly emptied further, causing his barrel to sag beneath him. It took only a few more swallows before tennis shoe clad feet disappeared as well, letting him close his mouth and straighten his head forward. His stomach still bulged obscenely and he took advantage of that stretched fullness, giving a small hiccup as he moved his hands across it beneath his hoodie. The attempted shouts were almost entirely muffled behind the thick wall of muscle and skin that was the centaur’s barrel and he reached down to pat himself behind his withers, the human apparently feeling it as he tried to thrash, though this only drew him deeper, his hips slipping through into the centaur’s equine stomach as well, leaving only his legs in the human one. It slimmed the pony down quite a bit when that happened, and he adjusted his hoodie to cover what little bulge remained before trotting to the printer and glancing at what had so mystified his victim.

Low ink, flashed on the screen. Mace rolled his eyes as he turned slightly, reaching up to open a cabinet and pull down a new cartridge. “You know, ink doesn’t magically change itself if you poke the printer,” he informed his captive conversationally. He bent at his waist to change out the cartridge, causing his victim to give small kicks before he straightened again, putting an end to that. A quick press of the print button set the machine whirring to life again, papers rapidly emerging from the side slot. A quick glance earned a snort from the pony. “You should be glad I’m the one that saw these and not HR,” he muttered. He scooped up the pages and dropped them into the recycling box. “What gave you the idea to print porn at work? Everybody else just watches it on their phones.”

The machine continued to print, several more documents emerging, which Mace neatly stacked on the shelves above it for whenever the person that had sent them arrived. He grabbed his own papers once they hit the tray, then backed toward the doorway, doing an awkward three legged hop as he managed to catch the edge of it with one hoof and pull the door open again. There were, after all, disadvantages to the small copy room, and not enough space to turn around was one of those. His lower stomach sagged and swung as he made his way back toward his desk, but nobody else really noticed, or if they did, they didn’t care. He could feel the human hidden within squirming slightly and did his best to stifle a low moan at the sensation of wriggling deep in his core.

“Teppie, I got those prints you wanted.” He set the pages down on the manager’s desk, smiling to her as she raised one hand to waggle fingers, not looking up from the Skype meeting that she was on. Mace shook his head in bemusement before continuing on toward his own cubicle. Teppie had been in his training class, and the pair had moved up the ranks together quickly, but she had been far more willing to advance than he had. When he hit the position of Quality Assurance, he had done his best to entrench himself firmly there, while she had continued the upstream swim into management. He was happy for her, and proud of her, but missed having her as his teammate for coaching the other agents. That and her having the time to fix his Excel, since he managed to break that particular program at least once a day.

Mace reached his cubicle, carefully lowering himself down to rest his barrel on the floor, much to the consternation of his cargo. The human wriggled more, causing his hide to ripple as though he were trying to shake off a fly. It also pulled the man’s legs further inward, a slow emptying of the human stomach that left him feeling almost hungry again, even as his lower half swelled somewhat more. The gurgles remained quiet still, thankfully, and laying down as he was, nobody could see the way that his shaft was starting to twitch and swell within his sheathe from the stimulation. He unlocked his computer and took a look at the clock, seeing that he only had another two hours before he could head home. Plenty of time to get some work done, at least. The centaur grabbed his earbuds off the desk and settled into listening to calls, only giving thought to his prey when the man would give a particularly fierce squirm.

********************************************************************************************************

Two hours later Mace was still staring at his laptop. He scowled as he tried, again, to figure out how to make Excel automatically CC the desk’s director and the agent’s immediate team lead into the emails that were sent out post QA. Thus far he had managed to get it to at least give him the option to manually enter that information, rather than just sending out to only he and the agent, forcing him to forward those messages on to the director and their manager after. It was supposed to do so automatically, and he knew that it could be done. After all, when he was first put in charge of Quality Assurance, the sheets had worked that way for him. Something in the latest round of adding new agents had screwed things up, but the pony had no idea what exactly had sparked the change and even less idea of how to fix it.

The human in his barrel had grown still for the most part, likely lulled by the heavy thud of the pony’s massive heart and the warmth of the slowly massaging stomach. He was alive still, as Mace could feel the faint rise and fall of a chest within him, along with the tiny, taplike beats of the man’s heart, almost a soft echo of his own pulse. It was a comfortable sensation, that hidden weight within, and Mace let himself focus there briefly, a form of self-soothing that wasn’t quite so self-powered.

“You’re still here, boss?” The centaur was startled from his comfortable reflection by the sound of a voice, turning his head to spot Chaz. The troll grinned at him with sharp tusks as Mace chuckled in return, carefully tugging the earbuds out of his ears.

“Yeah. You heading home?”

Chaz nodded, pointing to the clock on Mace’s screen. “My shift ended ten minutes ago, but I was stuck on a call. You almost done for the day?”

“Given that I should have been out of here forty minutes ago? Yeah, I think so. Not like these calls will be gone tomorrow, after all.” He saved the file that he had been working in, then quickly sent off emails to management with the latest QA sheets. “You taking the stairs or the elevator?”

“I normally take the stairs, but if you want I can ride the elevator with you.” The seven foot tall agent smirked suddenly, “Unless you want to take the stairs with me, that is.”

Mace snorted, powering down his computer and then levering himself up onto his feet to put it into a drawer and lock everything up. “Are you kidding me? Have you ever seen footage of a horse trying to use stairs?” The motion of standing had woken his passenger, who writhed again, and it was only through pure self-control that Mace kept from moaning. As it was he wished that he had a saddle blanket to hang low and hide the way that his shaft peeked out from his sheathe. Instead he grabbed his hoodie from the back of his chair and pulled it on over his polo, though he left it unzipped for the moment. “I would break my neck if I tried, and then who would QA your calls?”

The pair started down the aisle, turning once they reached the end of it to head up toward the elevators. “I’ve heard of centaurs using stairs, but they’re the parkour ponies,” Chaz answered, sliding his hands into his pockets. His nearly bonelike arms stuck out awkwardly at the elbows, given how long they were in comparison to his torso. Like most trolls, Chaz was almost all leg, a callback to their bog-dwelling ancestors, when excessively long legs allowed them to trek through waters without risking infections of rather delicate areas. Even standing to his fullest height, Mace was only chest high to the troll. “You know, the kind that like to ride unmodified skateboards?”

“I’ve seen the videos. I think they’re all insane,” the centaur responded. “You got plans this evening?”

“My wife and I are going to a new restaurant. I’m excited, but she’s a bit nervous.”

“Nervous? What restaurant is it?”

“The Carnivore Cafe. You heard of it?” Another sharp fanged grin was given, Chaz looking excited by the prospect of it. His red eyes gleamed through the shaggy, mosslike hair that hung in limp strands around his face.

“That’s the one in the industrial district, right? Live and willing prey with their own special reformers on site to ensure the prey is brought back in miniature?” They reached the elevator and Mace pressed the button to call it before turning so that he could face Chaz head on. “Let me know what the prices are like after. You know Geri would love that place.”

“Will do. I’m hoping they’ve got some meals that aren’t mini, though. It takes a lot to fill me up.” The troll gave an amused laugh at that. “I think that’s why my wife is scared. She knows if the food doesn’t fill me up, she’ll be on the menu after we leave.”

The ding of the elevator paused the conversation for a moment as the pair stepped aboard, the doors closing behind them. “Does she not like being eaten?”

“I make it enjoyable, but she tells me that she’s always scared the reformer won’t work right. She doesn’t want to end up a troll just because it mixed some of me into the reforming.”

Mace looked his coworker up and down before replying. “I guess I could see that, but I would be thrilled if that happened and I got some of your height.”

“Yeah, that part is nice, but would you really want all the allergies?” Chaz held out one hand, starting to tick off a list. “Sunlight, fire, mushrooms, pepperoni…”

“Okay, hold on now… the mushrooms and pepperoni are just you, man. You can’t count those as part of your racial sensitivities.” The human was wriggling again and Mace sidestepped to push his barrel against the elevator wall, doing his utmost to make the gesture seem like casually leaning. “That would be like me trying to claim that all centaurs are allergic to hay dust like I am.”

Chaz wasn’t fooled, his sharp eyes moving to stare at the barrel and his grin growing. “Ooh… who you got in there, boss?” He reached toward Mace, though stopped before actually touching the soft hide. “Can I feel?”

“Ah… just a friend from the second floor. Go ahead, but be gentle. He had a migraine and wanted somewhere to sleep it off.” Mace looked back toward his belly, giving a fond smile as he lied through his teeth. “I’m taking him home with me and will let him out there to use the spare bedroom. Then he can just ride back to work with me tomorrow.” The man inside chose that moment to try and give a hard kick, though the gesture did little more than cause a small bulge that Chaz ran a hand over adoringly.

“You’ve got so much space in there… how many can you pack if you really get hungry?”

Mace shifted his legs, trying to hide how the rubbing was enticing more of his shaft to slip free of the sheathe as the large hands stroked and pet his barrel, making his victim try to thrash within as protest. “Uh… about three humans? I dunno, it depends on sizes. But average humans are about three. I can swallow at least five fauns when I get them.”

“Mmm… fauns. I should take my wife out clubbing soon so that I can have a few.” Chaz rubbed a slow circle around where the skin gave another bulge, his long, knobby fingers surprisingly gentle, the claws taking care not to nick the softly furred hide, then finally stepped back. “Now I’m even more hungry for the restaurant.”

The elevator dinged again, doors sliding open for the pair to exit. “Well, get home then so that you can head there, man. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Mace replied, waving a hand as he headed down the hallway toward the northern parking lot.

“Sure, see you then!” Chaz called in answer, pushing open the door to the western one.

Mace blew out a soft sigh of relief, continuing down the hallway, though he slowed as he turned one corner, spotting the next obstacle that he would need to be concerned with. The door to the security office was wide open, and unlike most days the light was on. He chewed at his lip, then started forward again, trying to very much maintain the ‘I belong here’ attitude that always served him well when dealing with the security chief previously. The man made him nervous though, a gruff, ex-military guy that had pulled him aside once to grill him on why he had been going into an ‘unauthorized’ area daily. He still wasn’t sure that the human had believed him that his friend he was riding too and from work with was in that office and had always had him come in while she finished her work. It meant that he always suspected he was being eyed suspiciously when he passed by the man’s office, though.

The pony kept it a point not to turn his head as he trotted by, though his eyes moved to glance through the door, grateful to spot his friend in the security force behind the desk instead of her boss. She was busy with paperwork and didn’t look up, and Mace didn’t stop. No need to risk his passenger managing to draw attention again. The human tried to push outward again, and Mace gave a very quiet moan in the otherwise lonely hallway, reaching back to pet against that bulge. “Can’t wait to get you home…” he muttered softly, turning another corner. He could see the doors to the parking lot now and it took an effort of will not to break into a run to get there.

His barrel continued to swing and sway gently as he walked, hanging lower than normal with the cargo inside, and he reveled in the sensation of it. A quick pass of his badge got him through the first of the double doors and then the other, and finally he was out into the parking lot. The air was faintly chilly, fall well underway, and his hide gave a slight tremble from it, shaking his passenger inside him as the muscles reflexively twitched. He zipped up his hoodie for the added warmth. There was a faint, muffled sound from inside him, unclear as to whether it was outrage or curiosity, not that it particularly mattered. Mace fished his keys out of his pocket and clopped over to his van, pulling the sliding door open so that he could lay himself down on the floor, letting most of his weight push down on his prey again as he closed the door behind him and started the vehicle.

He pushed one of his knees against the brake and held it there as he shifted the vehicle into drive, then adjusted his knee to press the gas instead to pull out of his parking space and head in the direction of the main gates. The security guards barely glanced in his direction, far more interested with who was coming on the base than who was leaving it. Once again the thought of how simple it would be to take off with computer equipment crossed his mind. After all, he had plenty of extra space to hide a laptop or two, and they hadn’t noticed at all that he was smuggling out an entire coworker. The centaur reached back, patting his barrel again, then flicked the turn signal on before pulling out onto the main road and from there the highway.

********************************************************************************************************

Home was only a fifteen minute drive away, but it was a distracting and enjoyable fifteen minutes. The human that he had swallowed became more urgent in his struggles once he felt the van start, the motor causing a new set of vibrations, and he kept those wriggles up the entire way home. Mace had chatted with him conversationally, even though he couldn’t make out any of the shouted responses from inside of him, but the vibrations of them felt nice so he kept the man talking back to him. At one point he had turned up the radio when a particularly good song came on, and gotten a firm kick to his innards in response. “Not a fan of Queen?” he asked, turning off of the highway and onto arterial streets, then only two blocks later pulling into the apartment complex where he and Geri lived.

He parked the van, grinning as he saw that Geri was home already, a rare treat for him, then climbed out to head inside. “You know, if I didn’t think you would probably just try to run, I would let you out to play video games with me,” he told his prey as he unlocked the door. “I just picked up the remastered version of Mysteries of Mana. That game is always best with another player and I’m betting Geri hasn’t woken up from his nap yet.”

He clopped inside as the human inside him punched his inner stomach wall again, still grumpy about the captivity. “Mmm… keep doing that,” he taunted, pushing the door closed behind him and hanging his key on the hook beside the door. “I’ve been sporting a stiffy ever since I swallowed you and that’s just making me more excited.” The other thrashed further in response to the taunting and Mace groaned happily at the sensation. Now his shaft was sliding out even further, and at home he wasn’t worried who saw it. He trotted down the hallway as quietly as he could and a glance through the bedroom door showed him that he’d been right in his prediction, his lover still sleeping deeply on their bed. A shame, really, but they could always have some fun together later. He clopped quietly back to the living room so as not to wake him.

He trotted over to the coach, laying down on the floor in front of it and rolling onto his back. It propped his human half against the sturdy furniture, helping make it so that he could reach down to grab the flared tip of his length, squeezing it and bring himself closer to full mast. Apparently the change in position upset his passenger again, as the human set up a sudden, violent thrashing upon finding themselves flipped over. The jostling from within helped, his hand sliding up and down the exposed flesh as he moaned again, pulse rising steadily as he worked himself up with both of his hands. “Fuck…” he whispered, his voice a breathy groan. His prey seemed to have realized just what was going on, kicking and punching inside of him in protest, and his tail flagged against the carpet in sheer pleasure. He let go of himself with one hand to reach down instead and rub firmly against the bulges that the human made in the walls of his barrel.

“That’s right… keep moving… just like that…” he murmured, barely caring if the human heard him. The hand earned him an even more aggressive writhing from within, and he kept moving it to press against each bulge, trying to feel out exactly how the human was laying within him, picturing the man compressed down into his stomach, thinking of the way that the tingling was likely spreading over his skin. His breath came faster, his mind lingering on the power that he had over his prey, the glorious fullness of his equine stomach. It tightened as he urged himself onward, his metabolism speeding along with his heart rate, giving several gurgles to signal that it was soon going to make a proper meal of the human.

His occupant seemed to realize the meaning of those gurgles, or maybe it was the way that the tingling fluids of his stomach were starting to rise around them that made them suddenly grow even more frantic in their motions. His barrel rippled, the force of their struggle causing the skin to visibly buck and writhe, and without his weight pushing down onto them as much they had more freedom to fight for escape. Every sudden push or shove from within urged the centaur onward, his hand moving ever faster as he rubbed his swollen stomach with the other. “Fuck… oh- fu-” his voice broke off as his orgasm came, thick bursts of seed spattering across his barrel as he leaned his human half back, releasing his length to bounce against his belly and spurt out every last drop of his pleasure.

Mace panted and slumped, moaning quietly as he relaxed against the couch, enjoying the delicious afterglow. The writhing from within continued, his relaxed muscles making it even easier for his cargo, though the chance for escape was almost nil. He raised a hand up to unzip his hoodie, trying to squirm to get out of it without actually changing his position any. He was too comfortable, too spent, to even roll to lay properly. Instead he lazed where he had been, legs up in the air, back against the couch, and gave gentle wriggles of his own to try and undress somewhat. He had just gotten one arm loose when he heard a voice from the doorway where living room met hall. “Really? You got yourself a treat and didn’t bring me one?”

Geri pouted at his boyfriend as he came fully into the room, the massive draft horse suddenly making the room feel far smaller than it had with only the pony and his passenger inside. He had to duck to make it through the doorway, and when he stretched and gave a yawn his knuckles brushed against the already tall ceiling. Mace felt his stomach grow still, the man inside of him apparently listening to the new voice from the other centaur.

“Mmm… sorry, handsome. I snagged him at work and couldn’t exactly grab somebody else for you without being noticed.” He got the other sleeve off, letting his hoodie fall to the floor under him before reaching down to rub and stroke the sides of his barrel again, the human setting off another flurry of motion within him as they realized that Geri was certainly not going to be their savior.

“It looks like you had some fun already, too,” the larger centaur pointed out, trotting over toward the couch, his hoofbeats shaking the floor, even with the muffling of the carpet. He bent at the waist, reaching to poke and prod at the pony’s barrel, feeling the way that the human inside wriggled in response. It brought groans from the smaller male, enjoying the external pressure almost as much as the internal.

“Well…” his smaller lover answered, inhaling to help inflate his stomach more, “you were napping and I didn’t want to wake you.” He gave Geri a lustful, somewhat dazed grin. “I know how much your work wears you out,” he pointed out. “We can go out in a bit to get you somebody, if you want?”

“Maybe,” Geri answered, giving the stomach another slow rub. “So who is it? Anybody that I know?” His large hands shifted, sliding from the centerline up the sides and squeezing inward, forcing Mace to exhale the additional air, slimming the barrel down as much as possible so that he could try to get a proper feel of the human inside of his companion.

Mace shook his head in response to that, stretching a bit. “I think he’s one of the new hires at some other desk. He was kind of being a jerk in the copy room, so I got him out of the way so that I could get my work done.” He closed his eyes as Geri massaged his stomach, a low, happy moan pushed from him once more.

“Yeah? You take your time with him? Spend your time to really savor him?” Geri licked his lips, eyes on the way that the barrel was still squirming and moving as the human tried to get more comfortable inside of the other. He kept pushing and rubbing, doing his best to ensure that their efforts were futile and comfort wouldn’t arrive, only tight, squeezing muscles pushing against them instead.

“Wish that I could have, but I didn’t want to get caught.” Mace rolled his wide hips from side to side, getting a bit more comfortable with how he was laying on his back. Geri stepped into a position that let him rest his fetlocks on either side of those hips, both hands on the stomach now, ignoring the shaft that had mostly withdrawn into Mace’s sheathe and the sticky damp spots upon the brown hide.

“He making your belly feel good, at least? I bet he is… all nice and snug inside, making you feel stretched.” Geri’s shaft was starting to peek out instead as he spoke, the sight of the others stretched stomach arousing for him. “Tell me about how it feels, handsome,” he coaxed, raising one heavy hoof to add a new pressure on his lover’s barrel, not enough to injure Mace, but certainly enough to be felt by the human within that equine body.

“Mmm… full. So good and full. He’s squirming constantly, too, and sometimes he’ll try to hit or kick me and it just feels so good when he does it. I really couldn’t help jacking off once I got home and he really started moving.” Mace opened his eyes at the new pressure on him, looking up to Geri standing over him, then down the length of his own body. The pony’s cheeks reddened as he watched his lover’s face and glanced between the horse’s legs. “You want me to roll over so you can ride me, hon? Give him a good shaking up and make him move even more?” He stretched one of his back legs slightly, grazing his hoof idly against Geri’s sheathe, trying to coax more of his length free.

“I think I’ve got a better idea…” the horse answered, then stepped back, only to turn around and back up with surprising delicacy. Mace’s eyes widened as he realized what his lover had in store, but with those strong legs on either side of him, there was little that he could do in response. Geri looked back over his shoulder at his boyfriend, grinning as he lifted his shortly bobbed tail. “Since you were so cruel as to have a snack without bringing me one… you get to be the snack instead.” He brought his rump down with the last word, giving Mace little chance to protest before his face was covered over with firmly muscled cheeks and a tightly puckered ring between them.

Mace pressed his hands against Geri’s rear, pushing at it despite the knowledge that his efforts were wasted. His lover had not only mass and gravity on his side, but also the fact that the pony had been laying on his back, a very difficult position to struggle in. Another push, both from his hands and from the horse, and he felt the ring open, spreading wide, his face starting to press into it. Geri’s rump flexed, his tail tapping against the top of Mace’s head and cheeks squeezing on either side of his face. There was muscle over his ears now, blocking sound, so he felt more than heard as Geri began to moan, the larger horse bending his hindlegs to put more weight on Mace, forcing him in further.

The chestnut centaur circled his hips, helping to ease his boyfriend in further until he could feel the muscles get a proper grip on the others face. The hands that had pushed against his cheeks now dropped to the backs of his thighs, pushing ineffectually there, sometimes sliding and brushing against his scrotum instead. His shaft gave an eager bounce, the flared head tapping his own barrel as more of it slid from his sheathe.

“Ah…” he moaned, focusing on his muscles and giving a hard clench before relaxing them again. His anus opened further and he pushed himself downward again, forcing the pony’s head inside him completely, closing slightly around his thinner neck. “Be a good boy and squirm for me and maybe I’ll let you out before bed tonight…” he crooned, muscles giving a firm tug now that they had something to grip properly. Geri raised his body, letting Mace’s head slide out by a fraction, only to drop and push the other in again, toying with him.

The larger centaur reached back, putting his palms on his own rump and pulling the cheeks apart as far as he could, letting his lover’s shoulders, broad for a pony, but nothing compared to his own mass, slip between them. He kept them spread as he began to push downwards again, relaxing his muscles to start to ease the other inwards further. When he felt the shoulders push past his ring, taking in the widest point of the human half of the other male, he squeezed tightly, clamping down hard upon them to pin Mace’s arms and prevent any other attempts to pull loose. The move also ensured that the other wouldn’t slip free as he took a few steps forward that forced the pony up and onto his hooves.

Mace wriggled as he was pulled up into a standing position, his arms pinned tightly to his sides by the muscles that gripped all around him. Geri’s height made it an easy position, neither of the centaurs having to struggle to maintain their stance. Not that it stopped him from struggling. With his shoulders pinned it wasn’t easy for him to push against Geri’s larger body, but he dug his hooves into the carpet, trying to lean back in a tug of war with his lover’s anus.

He could feel himself slipping deeper as those warm walls squeezed and tugged, and Geri continued to flex around him. The draft horse moaned, leaning back as well when Mace tried to pull free, dragging his lover deeper. His biceps sank in, as well as his chest, and then another hungry pull had him captured to the elbows. Now the difference in height was becoming more difficult, and the Shetland had to rear up onto his hind hooves only, forelegs dangling in the air whenever Geri stood at full height.

Mace kicked his forelegs ineffectively, body sinking further. He tried to bend his arms to prevent being drug deeper, but Geri bent his hindlegs briefly, pushing his tightly stretched ring down until the pony’s elbows were trapped inside the warm tunnel of his backside. “Yeah… keep moving for me,” Geri teased, rocking himself up to let Mace slip out by a fraction, only to push down again, riding the other like a massive toy.

The pony still struggled, despite the knowledge that his efforts were futile. He knew from experience that there wouldn’t be any escape without Geri’s permission at this point. And Geri almost never gave that kind of permission. It wasn’t even that he minded so much being used and eaten, but his plans for the evening hadn’t involved becoming his companion’s toy and treat and he was going to miss out on valuable video game time. Not that Geri seemed to care about any particular protests that Mace might have had.

The larger centaur moaned as his lover squirmed in the confined space, raising to his full height to push Mace into a better position before he bent his hind legs again, sitting down onto the other and pushing him in deeper. He raised up again, repeating the gesture, relaxing his grip just slightly so that the other could slide out by an inch or two before being forced in double that, using him as nothing more than a deliciously squirmy toy. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensations as he flexed his muscles to pull again, another few inches captured. The way that Mace was trying to kick sent vibrations up him and he groaned as he tugged again, almost down to the pony’s waist now.

Mace shoved his hands against the slick, wet insides of the draft horse’s body, trying to clear space for his mouth to shout out muffled protests as he felt the stretched ring creeping further down his stomach. Geri standing and sitting had forced the pony to sit back on his haunches, forelegs straight, making a triangle of his lower half almost. The position wouldn’t save him from being engulfed, but it made him an excellent plug to fill the larger male. Inside of him he could feel the very confused human wriggling, obviously trying to sort out what was happening outside of the warm barrel that entombed him.

Geri’s voice was hardly words to him, more a vibration that rumbled through his bones, but he knew the way that the other was taunting him without needing to know what exactly was said. He could imagine that deep, rich voice as it groaned out how he was going to make a delicious new layer of fat. How he would be staying inside all night and nothing would be left of him in the morning. There was another push down, and now he could feel Geri pausing, the horse having to strain as he worked his way down over wider equine shoulders, the human half of the smaller centaur entirely within now. His lover was determined, the pressure increasing suddenly as Geri sat down as hard as he could, shoving Mace into him all the way to what most would call the knees of the pony’s forelegs.

The draft horse gave an elated huff, almost pained sounding, the fullness causing him to pause as his own shaft emerged completely now, bouncing and tapping the underside of his own barrel. Mace could feel those slaps from within, a tremor of force through the muscles that surrounded him, and knew exactly what it signified. He slapped his hand against inner walls, feeling as they squished and stretched around him. Based on where those taps came from, he knew already that he was well on his way toward his lover’s equine stomach with at least his human half.

There were sounds, too, that told him more of where he was. The heavy, rapid thud of Geri’s massive heart. The swish of blood through veins. And, more telling than all the rest, the gurgle of a stomach that was eagerly awaiting a meal. Geri started to move again, no longer lifting himself and dropping, but instead circling his hips, grinding himself down against Mace’s lower half to laboriously force it inward inch by squeezing inch.

The gurgle was growing closer as Geri pushed more of his weight down onto Mace. The draft horse lifted himself again slightly, then reared upward onto his hind hooves so that when he came down, all of his weight was centered upon the living toy that he was making use of. The effort worked, though, as suddenly only Mace’s hind legs and croup were left outside. His forelegs were fully captured, even the delicate hooves disappearing into Geri’s greedy rump.
Within his lover Mace gave a gasp as so much of him was swallowed, the pressure of Geri’s inner walls around his own barrel causing his prey to squirm and kick anew. A blush crossed his cheeks and he moaned at the combination of a full body massage and a massage from within combined at the same time. He could feel it as Geri stood up, no longer needing to push down onto him with only his own rump and legs to be captured. He flicked his tail, swatting his lover’s thighs with it for a moment. The action only seemed to spur Geri on, though, tight clenches gripping around his rump, pulling it slowly deeper.

There was a new pressure as well, each small tug of muscle around him forcing him deeper into his lover, and now his face pushed against a new ring. He squirmed, trying to wriggle back away from the sphincter that was his last obstacle before he would be driven into the draft horse’s churning stomach, which grumbled eagerly at the thought of the massive meal that awaited it. He could feel the anal ring slowly creeping past his dock and down his croup, forcing his hind legs to stretch back slowly until they were nearly horizontal to the rest of his body. As the last of his own rump was swallowed, the ring at his face spread, and his head was suddenly shoved through into the hot, steamy chamber of Geri’s stomach.

Mace brought his arms up, trying to protect his face from the slick, slimy liquid that tingled and stung sensitive tissues. Eventually the gesture would be worthless, but for the moment he protected his eyes. He squirmed, trying to roll onto his back, but the tight tunnel of muscle that held him made adjusting more than a fraction of an inch impossible. Outside him he could still feel the rumbles of Geri’s moans, and when he felt pressure against his back hooves he could guess how the draft horse had backed up toward the wall, using it to help push his pony lover inwards. All around him was the heavy thud of a massive heart, the pace of it faster than when he had first entered as Geri neared what would certainly be an exceptional orgasm.

Inch by inch his hind legs were captured, and with each inch more of him was fed into the tight, gripping clutches of his lover’s stomach. Almost all of his human half was inside now, and he managed to use his arms to prop himself up, trying to push his head against the sphincter that would let him escape into the somewhat less dangerous upper stomach instead. The pressure of his barrel entering from behind shoved him harder against the muscled ring, even as a different ring sealed itself closed behind his hips, the very last of him tucked away within the draft horse’s sagging barrel.

It was that last clench behind the hooves that pushed Geri over the brink. He shouted out in ecstasy as his muscles contracted, pulling hard and tugging more and more of Mace into his stomach, even as hot bursts of seed splattered out across the floor of their apartment. His gut bulged as the pony’s barrel was drug into the tight organ, forcing it to stretch and swell, even as Mace found himself more and more compressed. The human inside of him felt the new pressure as well, sending up faint squirms and wriggles that telegraphed through the pony’s muscled walls and out into Geri, a new level of pleasure as he enjoyed the utter fullness of his lover within him. He groaned, flopping against the couch so that he could stroke his hands over his swollen stomach, panting as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through him.

His stomach gurgled and clenched around the human stuffed pony, each little motion that either made bringing him new delight. “Mmm… good snacks. I’ll feel nice and full all night,” he taunted, flexing his muscles to make certain that Mace couldn’t push through to find more space. He could still feel legs being pulled inward, forcing the other centaur to curl into a tighter and tighter space as walls started to squeeze and press around him, working toward softening him up to make a new layer of fat for the horse. “I wonder how long your human is going to last… or if you’ll gurgle him up before I manage to finish you off.”

Geri rolled to his side, watching the way that his massive stomach bulged outward between his legs, as well as upward, making a mound of his side. He sighed happily at the way that the mound shook and squirmed, movements beneath the muscle that were strong enough still to be visible from the outside. For several minutes he lay as he was, watching those squirms and the way that his belly rose and fell with his breathing. He could feel Mace writhing and wriggling, trying to get comfortable in a far too small space, and he could feel the human from even more deep inside, the way that he was barely even able to twitch within the double-stuffed gut. His stomach glorped and gurgled quietly, the occasional low groan joining in with the sounds, as well as the faintly muffled protests of his lover. Every now and again he would feel the pressure at the top of his stomach as Mace tried once more to push into his human stomach in search of space. He clenched his muscles each time that happened, making certain that his stomach squeezed more tightly, preventing that escape and also lessening the space around his prey by miniscule increments.

“Happy digesting, my little gut slut,” he crooned, stretching one arm down so that he could pat and rub his barrel, groaning in tandem with his stomach when Mace would give a tiny kick or push. He could almost make out what curves were legs, awkwardly wrapped around the pony’s own stuffed stomach, and where his back was forced to bend, his head pushed almost to between his front legs. Inside the squirms continued, a faint tap of hooves against inner walls, the brief flick of a sodden tail. He could feel every bit of it, and the draft horse moaned heavily before rolling to lay atop his belly, pushing hard down upon his own stomach, making the space even tighter. His muscles twitched and flexed around that heavy meal, even as he could slowly feel the motions from inside of him grow less powerful. Mace was tiring, though he seemed to be doing his best to try and get comfortable in the impossibly small space. Geri rocked himself atop that full belly, using his own weight to bear down upon it, trying to prolong the experience, but also wanting to trap his lover and their own prey in as tight a belly as he could manage. He was so stuffed that he could barely rest himself on the ground that way, and his length had stiffened beneath him again, trapped between stomach and floor.

The sensation of the tight tunnel that his girth forced his belly to form beneath him encouraged his rocking. The carpet wasn’t the most pleasant thing to rut against, but it didn’t stop him as he imagined every thrust pushing against Mace’s trapped body, pounding beneath him and helping to soften his still moving and still aware prey. “Ah- come on… come on… squirm for me…” he groaned, more vibrations that rumbled through his barrel and shook the weakly kicking pony inside. He was fairly certain that he could feel an elbow against his inner walls here, a foreleg there, the rounded curve of a head and the far larger rounding of the pony’s belly. Geri shifted his position by a fraction, making certain that each of his thrusts would slide his shaft so that it pushed up against that belly, teasing the tightly packed away human, who could only give the faintest of twitches in response. It might have been his imagination, but he was almost certain that he could feel Mace’s shaft slipping from the sheathe and growing hard within him as his hungry belly gave another loud gurgle and clench.

“That’s right… churn and squirm… I wanna feel you to the very last…” he panted, rocking his thick hips so that he could push himself against his own stuffed body, still teasing the pair inside. He leaned his human torso back, nearly laying onto himself so that he could wrap both arms around the sides of his barrel, pushing and squeezing even while he purposely gripped around them with his stomach muscles. Mace was wriggling still, trying to push out one final orgasm before he was nothing but digestive soup and a wait in the reformer, but Geri didn’t make it easy as he ensured that the space grew smaller and smaller. It made him feel so utterly full with how tightly his stomach walls had to work to compress the pony down.

It was a race against time and one another, each trying to eke out their orgasm before time ran out for the pony and human. Already Mace could feel that the human had stopped moving, the space too small for even the tiny wiggles that he had managed, and the pony had so little room that he could barely manage to jerk his own hips in tiny bursts of energy. He panted softly, feeling the way that Geri’s heart was speeding, as well as the pushes and squeezes and clenches and thrusts that were the draft horse’s mounting pleasure. He whined, oh so faintly, the frantic attempts to move no longer allowing him even a fraction of space as Geri grew more urgent around him.

When Geri came a second time, there was yet another tightening, the clench of his climax powerful, pushing him over the edge and Mace over the brink as well, the pony blacking out as his prison became too tight, too strong, and the stomach began its work in earnest. The motions that had been were stilled, no space left for them, and Geri slumped to his side once more. He closed his eyes, panting softly as he tried to bring himself back to clear thoughts, his legs paddling a moment against the now sticky floor as he stretched and luxuriated in the combined sensations of afterglow and fullness. He reached down with one hand again, patting his barrel as he tucked his other arm beneath his head and slowly drifted off into a glorious, post-meal nap.

by **1ring42** » Wed Oct 12, 2022 12:49 pm

Wow another hot story.

CraftyCarne Writes - Appetizer (Unbirth, Bondage)

CraftyCarne Writes - Appetizer (Unbirth, Bondage)

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CraftyCarne Writes - Dinner (Oral Vore, Bondage, Unbirth, M/

Re: Appetizer pt. 2, Dinner (Vore, Sex, Non-Con, F/M, Bondag

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Re: Appetizer pt.1 (Unbirth, F/M, Non-Con, Bondage)

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CraftyCarne Writes - Experimentation (Oral Vore, Accidental)

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