Belloc's Latest Stories

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Belloc's Latest Stories

Postby Belloc » Thu May 05, 2016 8:08 pm

Since I recently opened up for commissions, I thought it'd be worthwhile to share some of my work here on the forum. I've been writing here for a few months now, and I've already built up a cozy gallery that you can see here. I've written a lot of M/F stuff so far, but I branch out now and then into other set ups. I also have an admitted love for big bellies and teasing, which you might see a bit of in some of my stuff. I'll share more here if people like. ^^

For today, though, here's a story for the M/F, Zelda crowd: a story about Link wolfing down Maple from the Oracle games. :D It's here if you prefer the gallery view.

Spoiler: show
Link had faced many dangers in Holodrum. Dragons, massive spiders, rain of fire, the chaos of the ever-changing seasons... not to mention an insane dance competition. But as he walked through the woods north of Horon village, he did not expect to encounter anything life-threatening. Let alone have it drop out of the sky.

The young witch came spinning down through the trees, her broom swerving drunkenly in the air. Link ran right to get out of her way. She swerved left. He jumped to the left with a shout. She swerved right, screaming, “Mooooove!”

They collided. Link fell, his pack opening and spilling rupees, seeds, and a potion. The bottle of red liquid rolled over the grass away from him, stopping against the broom of the downed witch as she sat up, rubbing her head.

She was tall, dressed in a simple purple gown that covered her slender body. Red circles of make up dotted her cheeks, and green shadow covered her eye lids. Her green hair stuck out in spikes from under her huge purple hat. When she looked at Link, fury crossed her cute face.

“Ow! You idiot. You just bumped into Maple, the apprentice of the Great Witch Syrup. Can't you watch where you're going? Now look at this mess. All my stuff fell out of my bag.” She gestured at the rupees which had spilled from her bag, along with a few rings and seeds and, unnervingly, bombs. Link tried not to think about why this girl needed bombs.

Seeing the potion at her feet, a mean smile crossed her face. Link made a desperate sound for her to stop, but she snatched it up. The red potion had cost him all the money he had when he bought it from the witch in the Sunken City. In fact, he hadn't been able to pay the full amount. He'd been a few rupees shy, and only convinced the witch to brew him a special, discount potion after an hour of whimpering and tearful eyes and pantomiming the dangers he would face.

Syrup had given in, saying, “Oh fine. You don't get the good stuff, though. That revives a lot of you. I'll make a batch that will just revive a little of you.” Then she cackled as Link danced with glee.

Now, he watched Maple uncork the precious bottle. She took a long sniff.

“Mmm, definitely Syrup's handiwork. Let me guess. This ran you about 300 rupees? Well, you should have watched where you are going. Now you get the honor of watching me drink this whole potion, right in front of you. Maybe that will teach you to be more careful next time.”

From the ground, Link reached pitifully for his potion as she slowly raised it to her lips. Maple laughed, enjoying the sight of the hero squirming, pleading with his eyes for her to spare his life-saving elixir. She dragged it out, running the rim of the bottle against her lips, tilting it just enough that the red potion brimmed, ready to fall.

“Here it goes,” she said, gleefully. “Down my throat. Into my belly. You're never going to see it again. Say 'good bye.' Aaaahh.”

She leaned her head back and lifted the bottle, pouring the potion slowly into her open mouth so Link could watch every drop wash over her lip and tongue. He saw her throat convulse and work the liquid down. He whimpered. 256 rupees, gone! Her flat stomach didn't even look big enough to hold 256 rupees, but she might as well have crunched his wallet up and ate it.

Maple drained the bottle of the last drop of red potion. She wiped her lips and tossed the glass away with a sharp, cruel laugh. “Now it's gone. All gone forever. That's what happens to stupid, clumsy boys who get in my wa-”

She stopped. Maple put a hand to her stomach, shaking her head with a groan.

“Ooh.” She stumbled, holding out an arm to steady herself. “I don't... uuggg... I don't feel so good.”

Maple let out a loud “HIC!” As she did there was an explosion of heatless smoke. Link covered his face, turning away from the blast. When it passed, he looked back to see what happened. The witch's apprentice was gone. Link looked up to the sky, but her broom was still here . She couldn't have flown off,

As he gazed upwards, stepping towards her broom, he heard a voice, small and distant, “Watch where you're walking!”

Link looked down. He jumped back at the sight. Maple stood where she had been before, only she was now the size of a rupee. Maybe smaller. Even her clothes had shrunk. Link thought back to what the witch had said. “Revive a little of you.” Link got the joke now, and as relief at having dodged this nasty trick came over him, he smiled, laughing soundlessly at Maple's predicament.

The apprentice did not enjoy being laughed at. She stamped her feet. “Sh-shut up! You listen to me. You got me into this mess. I demand you take me to Syrup right now and get her to fix me. Oh boy, you are in so much trouble. When I get back to normal, I swear I am going to hex you until you can't even tie your shoes without ending stuck in a tree. Just you wait.”

Link rolled his eyes. He considered leaving the rude girl there in the grass. But something made him stop.

His stomach growled.

Maple heard it too. She looked at his body, which was enormous compared to her, then back at him. She stammered, pretending not to have noticed.

“N-now lift me up and take me to Syrup. Come on! Hurry up.”

Link's belly growled again. He'd not eaten anything besides rations since leaving Hyrule. A mischievous smile crossed his face.

Maple cowered. She knew exactly what that smile meant. Turning, she tried to run, but Link scooped her up with ease. Lifting her in his hand from the ground, he brought her up to his face.

Maple clung to his thumb, kicking her leg at him to drive him away.

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop. L-look. I... I apologize for drinking your potion. Okay, I said it. It wasn't totally my fault, but I'm super sorry, ok. Now just... just stop playing around and take me to Syrup.”

Link shook his head. Holding Maple with his thumb, he brought her close to his mouth. He stuck his tongue out. She squealed at the sight, thrashing to get away as he ran it over her body and her face.

“Ew! Stop this, it's so gross! You can't eat me. I'm the apprentice of the Great Witch Syrup. If you eat me I... I'll totally curse your guts. You'll get so super fat or... or super thin or whatever is most unhealthy for you. You'll be going to the bathroom all the time, I swear. Don't you dare lick me again!”

Link dared. He licked her slowly, dragging the torment out the same way she teased him earlier. The taste was surprisingly good. Fleshy, sure, but the girl clearly took care of herself. After another long lick that left Maple's face glistening, Link held her over his mouth. He opened his lips and put his tongue out. Maple stared down into the slimy hole as he lowered her towards it.

“No,” she shouted. “I'll get you another potion! I promise. Just don't eat me!”

Link didn't listen. He pushed her onto his tongue. She fought to hold onto his hand, but he closed his lips over her protesting arms, trapping her in his warm, wet mouth. With a gulp, he swallowed Maple down. The witch's apprentice was just a shouting bulge sliding down his throat. In a matter of seconds, she was gone. Link felt her lively, frantic body drop into his stomach. Immediately, the growling changed to a satisfied gurgle. Maple shouted in horror from inside him. He could still just barely make her words out through his flesh.

“Ew ew ew! Let me out! This is worse than digging through Dodongo dung for Bomb Flower seeds. Let me out ri-uuuggg.”

Link looked down at his stomach. He lifted his tunic, confused. Was his belly already digesting her?

“Uurrgg... my stomach... I... HIC”

Link was knocked onto his butt as he felt something burst inside him. He panicked, thinking that Maple had literally blew him apart from the inside. He ran his hands over his body, expecting to be in pieces. He was thankfully whole. In fact, as he put his hands to his stomach, he found there was a lot more of him than before.

His belly bulged huge and round from under his tunic. Maple had definitely grown back to normal size, but Link's belly had grown to accommodate. He admired his own huge tum, running his hands over the soft, smooth surface. He felt shifting and pushing from within. He pressed against one of the protesting lumps.

“Stop that,” said Maple. “Let me out! Nnf, it's so tight in here. I can't move. You can't do this.... aahh...”

His stomach groaned as it worked on its filling meal, bubbling the cute apprentice to a fine brew. Link smiled and patted his gut. His belly grumbled just before intense pressure moved up his throat.

“BRRRRAAAAARRRRRPPP!” He belched loudly, letting out the gassiness from Maple's regrowth. With that pressure out of his belly, it clamped down tightly over Maple, the walls of his greedy stomach grinding and pressing against her, groaning contentedly. Eager to make her into a very different type of potion for the quiet hero.
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Re: Belloc's Latest Stories

Postby Belloc » Sat May 07, 2016 10:24 pm

A new story and my very first fully completed commission! Thanks a million to saintheartwing for giving me the project. This was a ton of fun to write.

Here's one for fans of My Life as a Teenage Robot. The Cluster Ambassador comes to Earth, not to invite Jenny away to join the Cluster (which is giving me Steven Universe flashbacks) but to sample the human population. After all, humans are a prime food source for the robots of his homeworld; too bad the ones on Cluster Prime don't taste all that great. But when the Ambassador lands in the middle of a playground and finds how scrumptious Earth humans are he goes on a bit of a spree.

There are underage prey, but it's non-fatal, mostly humorous. Watching the show to get into the mindset for this story made me realize that MLaaTR had some pretty redeeming qualities. Heck, I always thought of it as not-Powerpuff Girls. I underestimated the scrappy little series.

If you want to see the story in gallery view, here it is.

Spoiler: show
When the Ambassador heard about the first reports of Earth, he could not suppress a twinge of excitement. “Possible human habitation” the reports said. “Shows promise for new fuel and resource supplies. Recommend immediate sampling of local population.” When the order was given for him to investigate, the Ambassador left Cluster Prime with more than just duty driving him. If he had a tongue, it would be licking his metal mandibles. Cluster Prime was a lovely planet; a paradise for robotic beings like him, where humans knew their place as servants and food, and the soft serve ice cream came easily. But the humans there were not the most delectable meals. Bland, weak, and pitiful, they hardly offered a filling snack. With a new planet would come new flavors... and he would be the first to taste them.

Arriving at the blue and green planet, the Cluster Ambassador decided to set down in a quieter part of one of the cities. After all, what better place to find his sampling than a population center? Flying down through the clouds, he saw, amid the tall buildings and gray roadways, a large patch of green. Human children moved among odd contraptions of metal and wood, laughing, shouting, chasing each other. Fanning his large wings, the Ambassador landed in the middle of the playground, shaking the ground, sending a boy tumbling down the slide.

The flock of children who had been playing stopped and starred. The huge robot, tall as the playground equipment, lowered his four large wings and looked around him. The Ambassador reminded several of the children of an insect with his mandible-like metal mouth, brown body, two pairs of arms, and the angled antennae on top of his head. To him, the kids were the size of a plaything, barely coming to his knees. They certainly looked healthier and tastier than the children of Cluster Prime, less scrawny and scraggly. They gathered around the Ambassador, eagerly looking him over, fascinated by the alien robot that had landed in the middle of their playground.

A blonde-haired boy took a stick and poked at the Ambassador's feet with a fascinated, “Cool! He's a big giant robo-beetle. Cynthia, isn't, like, the girl down the street from your house a robot too? Maybe this guy's her family.”

Cynthia, a short girl in an orange hoodie, jumped up and hung on one of the Ambassador's lower arms, swinging from it like a jungle gym. “No way, Taylor,” she said, kicking her feet in the air. “That robo-girl's not related to this guy. Is she, Mister? You ain't looking for Jenny, are ya?”

The Ambassador, in a level, diplomatic voice, answered, “I am not here for any other inorganic beings, young ones. I am an emissary, representing the shining utopia, Cluster Prime, and I have come on behalf of my brethren to sample your tiny planet's resources and potential for our ever expanding empire.”

“What and what?” asked Taylor. One of his friends, a tall girl, exclaimed, “Awesome! We're being invaded. My sister's going to be so jealous.” She took her phone from her pocket, shoved it into the hands of one of a lanky, nervous friend who was stepping away from the robot. “Get some pictures of me fighting the robot, Sam.”

Sam, shivering timidly, held up the phone and poked the screen, snapping badly angled pictures of the ground, the Ambassador's ankles, and the sky while she looked around for an adult. “I... I don't know about all this, Alli. M-maybe we should go find your mom. Isn't this sort of, like, her job? Arrest robot guys from space and stuff?” Alli didn't answer, being too caught up in hopping around the Ambassador's leg with her fists up, boxing at the air. Two more kids ran up from the jungle gym, one of them, a chubby, fiery-haired boy, joining her in play boxing the Ambassador who only slouched with irritation as Cynthia clambered over his lower arm and started hanging from his large, upper one. He'd never known human children could be so taxing.

“So, what did you come to sample?” asked Cynthia, sitting on his shoulder. “Oil reserves? Ocean water? Human capacity for kindness?”

“Maybe it's pizza. I'll bet it's pizza, right, Nathan?” shouted the red-head boy. He stood with Alli and Taylor on the toes of the Ambassador, posing like heroes in front of a flag. His friend, Nathan, wiry, bespectacled, and a little less brave, stood apart with Sam, neither of them comfortable around the Ambassador. He said, “I really don't think he came for pizza, Mark.”

The Ambassador sighed, thankful that, even if they did not taste quite so good, the humans of Cluster Prime never climbed on him like playground equipment. He reached up with one pincer-like claw and plucked Cynthia from his shoulder by the hoodie. She giggle, swinging back and forth. “Check it out, check it out!” she shouted.

The Ambassador said, “Indeed, I did not come for pizza. Or oil or water or kindness. If you must know, I came to sample...” His red and white eyes narrowed as he lifted Cynthia up over his head, his voice growing deadly, “you.”

The tone of his voice, and the way he moved her over his metal, horizontal mouth caused all of Cynthia's excitement to drain out of her. The young girl stopped swinging and started kicking her feet as the Ambassador lowered her towards his mandibles. “H-hey! I'm not on the menu. Let me down right now, or my big brother will-!”

The Ambassador opened his mouth, his dark, brown insides looming beneath her feet. Cynthia squealed as he let her go. She slid down into his dark, metal throat, disappearing into his belly. A circle of glass was fitted in the center of his stomach, so Cynthia's friends saw her land inside him. She crawled to the glass, hitting it with her fists, her voice muffled as she shouted, “Help!”

The Ambassador laid a pincer on his belly. The taste of the child was exquisit. His palette was so used to the dry, empty flavor of the lanquid Cluster Prime humans, that this fierce sweetness, this bold meaty Earth taste sent shivers through all his limbs. He let out a satisfied, “Mmm. Delicious! You Earth humans taste far better than any of the ones from Cluster Prime. Perhaps a free range life style has its benefits.”

Seeing their friend get eaten, the other kids quickly lost their delight in the space invader. Taylor dropped his stick in shock, starring at the glass belly where Cynthia was still kicking to be let out. “Oh man,” he said, before scrambling towards the playground. Alli picked up the fallen stick and beat on the Ambassador's shins with it, sending out loud clangs through the playground. “Let her go,” she shouted. Mark joined her, throwing his heavy body against the Ambassador's leg, jumping and stamping on his feet. The Ambassador laughed.

He snatched up both children by the collars with his big pincers and brought them up. Alli continued to swing her stick, striking his pincer, his arm, whatever part of him she could hit. When he brought her towards his mouth, she nailed him right in the eye.

“Ouch,” shouted the Ambassador, surprised by the smart blow. He shook Alli until the stick flew from her hand. “At least children on Cluster Prime know their place. I'll make sure you have plenty of time to learn your's now, child.” He brought Alli over his mouth. She shouted, “You dirty, metal, bug jer-!” Then he dropped her and gulped her down. An “oof” came from his gut as she landed on top of Cynthia.

Mark, the fight drained from him, stammered, “I-isn't two enough of a sample?”

The Ambassador considered the question before shrugging. “Yes. But you taste far too good to pass up.” Then, he tossed Mark into his maw, swallowing him whole. Patting his full stomach, the Ambassador let out a loud burp.

Sam and Nathan were halfway across the playground, shouting for help. With a leap, the Ambassador slammed onto the ground in front of them. The two kids fell back, Nathan cowering in the shadow of the huge robot. Sam scrambled up and tried to run back towards the playground. One long, brown pincer shot out and hooked her by the pants.

“No no no, hey, let go, let go,” she squealed, swinging her arms and legs wildly. She watched as that metal mouth loomed under her, the silver mandibles sliding open revealing a dark throat leading down to the Ambassador's stomach. Cynthia, Mark, and Alli were piled on top of each other, kicking at the walls of the robot's stomach boxing them in. Sam shouted, “Mom!” before falling in to join her friends.

Nathan, too scared to move, offered no resistance. The Ambassador hoisted him up by the shirt. Nathan looked at the Ambassador's belly where he could see his friends, squirming and protesting and shouting, then at the maw waiting to swallow him up.

“I hope we give you a stomach ache,” he shouted. The Ambassador stopped, then laughed.

“Actually, child, my kind cannot suffer from digestive ailments. My stomach is a much more refined energy converter than your digestive tract. Don't worry, I won't break you down into nutrients and chemicals. I will simply draw on the energy of you and your friends for, say, ever.”

He tossed Nathan into the air. The boy shouted as spun head over and heels and fell like a piece of popcorn past the Ambassador's mandibles. With a gulp, he slid into his belly, leaving the robotic diplomat very, very satisfied.

The playground was much quieter now than when he had first arrived. The Ambassador looked at the peaceful jungle gym, see-saws, swings, and thought of how they might not be quite so pretty as the uniform boxes and towers of his homeworld, but they had a sort of rustic charm that he couldn't help admiring. Plus, he could not argue what such a setting did for taste. The five humans squirming in his belly had tasted better than five thousand humans from Cluster Prime.

As he spread his wings and prepared to take off, movement caught his eye. Under a slide, a pair of shoes stuck out, twitching nervously. Smiling, the Ambassador stamped over, tweezed the shoes with a pincer, and pulled Taylor out from under the playground equipment. Taylor squealed, swinging his arms, shouting, “Please don't eat me! Please don't eat me! Please don't eat me!”

The Ambassador poked his mandible with a claw, considering. He was quite full. He'd gorged himself more than he ever had before. The sweet, full taste of the Earth humans had simply been too much to resist. Surely he had enjoyed enough for today.

“Though,” he said aloud, his calm voice making Taylor stop shouting and shiver in fear at what was coming next. “One for the road never hurts.” He lifted Taylor over his head. He opened his mouth. The boy let out a small whimper as he fell into the dark with a loud gulp.

The Ambassador was utterly stuffed. He let out a loud Urrrrrp! as his stomach adjusted to its large, kicking, shouting meal. The glass of his belly moved with faces as the kids continued to crawl and push and worm inside him until he darkened the glass to opaque. If he let any of the Cluster see how much he'd eaten on a scouting mission, they'd never let him live it down.

Taking off into the atmosphere, the Ambassador left the playground behind, empty and silent. Not for long though. He'd make this his first stop when he returned to show his people the planet that housed millions of the most delicious snacks in the galaxy.
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Re: Belloc's Latest Stories

Postby Belloc » Sun May 15, 2016 10:40 pm

A quick story for this week, inspired heavily by a new plant I got for my apartment and this picture by Scaylid00d which is awesome. I love plant vore, but the potted plant preds don't get enough love. It's always the big jungle plants that get all the attention. Well not today! Today, the humble daisy has its day, see?

Also, male prey! It happens sometimes. If you want to read it in the gallery, click here.

Spoiler: show
Timothy coughed a lot. Not from a cold; just a constant shortness of breath and tightness of throat. The cough got especially bad at night, keeping him up unless he took a daily dose of medicine. His coworkers commented on how much of a night owl he must be, with the heavy bags under his eyes. Worried about his health, Timothy told his doctor about his cough.

“Buy a plant,” the doctor said. “See if that helps.”

Timothy's apartment overlooked Broad Street, the busiest street in downtown. Cars fumed by at all hours. He understood the implication: “You're breathing junky air. Get something to clean it up.” So, he pulled up a list of air cleaning plants, hoping to find something that looked fun and fancy to make his sparse apartment pop. No luck. Most of them looked like simple ferns or bushes. Only one stood out with a zap of color: the barberton daisy. A fat-blossomed, thin-stemmed firework of red or orange or pink.

The next day, Timothy went to a florist. He asked about the daisy. When the lady at the counter told him the price, he went to Craigslist instead. He saw one posting:

PLANT IN NEED OF HOME! ABANDONED BY PREVIOUS OWNER!

The next day, on a little stool right by his bedside, Timothy sat down the brown pot with the daisy in it. The daisy had been pruned before the sale, so it was a bit small. A scruff of dark green leaves pushed out of the soil around a long, slender stalk that led to a single blossom. The bloom exploded in ray-like petals of orange around the golden carpel in the center, which was itself ringed with the fuzzy orange-yellow stamen. Timothy was glad there was only one bloom. It made it look fragile but determined. He patted it, saying, “I'll keep you safe, little buddy, if you promise to do the same for me.”

A label had been fixed on the brown pot, apparently by the original owner who abandoned the plant. The guy who sold it to Timothy, the previous owner's landlord, wasn't sure what it meant, not being familiar with plants. The label read, in bad handwriting, “KEEP FED!!!” Timothy was prepared. He had read up (albeit, rather hastily) on daisies. He had a bottle of growing mix and a bigger pot for when it got too large for its home. For now, he watered the daisy with a little of the mix, and, with one last touch to the flower, left it with its large, colorful blossom facing his window so it could absorb the sunlight.

The next morning, Timothy awoke, refreshed. He didn't feel amazing, but his throat felt smooth, his lungs big. He grinned, running his hands lazily under his pillows, lounging in the bliss of a decent night's sleep. Rolling over, he reached out to touch the flower.

“Morning, buddy,” he said, his fingers rubbing the delicate petals. He felt the soft, fuzzy center of the blossom under his thumb. This confused him. Timothy opened his eyes. The daisy's head was turned towards him. Hadn't he faced it towards the sun yesterday? Its fringe of leaves seemed larger, the blossom a bit wider. Maybe looking at it from the bed just made them appear thicker. The plant couldn't really have grown overnight.

Shaking the oddity from his mind, he got up, watered his plant, and went to water himself with breakfast. He didn't pour more growing mix. After all, a daisy couldn't eat a dose every day.

Everyone at work complimented Timothy on his energetic attitude and appearance. His boss said to him on break, “You're looking good today. Something happen at home? Luck with the boys?” Timothy just smiled and took it all in. He'd never gotten compliments before. He usually just faded into the background, a breathy, small guy with a quiet voice and a loud cough. He wondered what a second night's sleep would bring.

When he came home from work, Timothy opened the door to his bedroom. He took two steps in and stopped. The daisy was looking at him. Its large, open bloom faced the door like a bright orange and yellow eye. He'd left it facing his bed. Do daisies turn that fast? Sure, he'd read that they turn to face the sun but... this was a bit unnerving.

Filling the water cup, he moistened the soil, speaking softly to the flower.

“Looks like you're full of energy too, huh? Must be all that good food I gave you. 'Keep fed.' Don't worry. I will. Next batch is, when?” He checked mix. “Next month. Think you can wait? Don't want to overeat, right? Just need that good sunlight and water... and a few bits of air from me, huh?” He laughed, patting the daisy's bloom. “I'll give you what I can. Just don't turn your head so much that it pops off!”

That night, Timothy crawled into bed like a king. Each sheet felt like silk; each pillow like down. He was sleeping in moments, a dreamless, senseless sleep. Until he felt something. Rising up into the darkness of some unknown hour, he felt a scratching in his throat. Timothy groaned, reaching up towards his mouth, preparing to cough. Was he already slipping back into sickness?

He coughed, but this cough felt different. Not the shallow-lunged cough of earlier days, when he was short of breath. It was a scratchy cough. The sort of cough he got in spring, when pollen was heavy in the air.

When he coughed, Timothy felt something on the side of his face. It was soft, so he at first thought it was his pillow, but it was on top of his face, not under. He opened his eyes. He saw his ceiling out of his right eye. Out of his left, darkness.

“Wha-?” Timothy mumbled, groggily. He reached up and felt along his face. Slender, delicate, flat spokes covered his cheek, leading up to a firm base which stretched away on a slender, long length of something organic. Timothy tried to roll over, but the thing on his face tightened and, with strange strength, kept his head in place. It seemed to slither over his skin, expanding. Moist softness moved over his face, the delicate spokes covering his nose and a strong smell of pollen filling his lungs. Timothy could see the spokes now.

They were orange petals.

“W-wait. What's-mmf!” He screamed as the daisy spread its bloom over his face. Darkness swallowed up Timothy as his head was squeezed into the opening hidden in the center of the daisy's orange, velvety carpel. Slick walls pressed over his skull and pulled him into the long, flexible stalk. Timothy tried to bat the blossom away, but it stuck to his head with uncanny strength. The rhythmic pulling of its floral body squeezed him deeper into the thin stalk, pulling his shoulders up, the blossom stretching wider to take them in. Timothy's face was perfectly outlined in the tight, green stalk.

Timothy tried to scream. He tried to struggle, hoping to tip the plant over and smash the pot. The daisy refused to fall. He worked his hips around, trying to kick at the stool the pot was on. The daisy spread over his shoulders and, with a pull, took in his chest, forcing his arms to his sides. Timothy shouted in disappointed anger. He couldn't twist around enough to hit the stool. He could only flail his legs, tossing his bedsheets impotently. The daisy, softly brushing over his skin, swallowed his torso. Its petals rove lightly over his navel before pulling it in.

Timothy slept without clothing, and when the soft petals and cushiony carpel pressed over his manhood, it caused him to twist and shudder in a shameful way. The daisy swallowed his hips and thighs without so much as a pause, but as his lower half slid into the crushing, tight stalk and was perfectly outlined inside the daisy's thin body, the bulge of his erect penis showed how the soft touches and rhythmic pressing of the plant effected Timothy. He moaned reluctantly, squirming in embarrassed protest, his hands locked behind his butt, unable to do anything about the undesired arousal that showed so plainly over his flat stomach.

With only his legs remaining, the daisy, its stalk stretched to take in its meal, rose straight and tall over its small pot. Timothy's kicks had dissolved into feeble twitches, partly from fatigue, partly from arousal, partly from the fact that the blood was now rushing to his head as he hung upside down in the daisy's stalk. His head came to rest at the base of the plant, his moaning mouth outlined under the green “flesh.”

Stretching up over his twitching legs and clenching feet, the daisy, inch by inch, took Timothy into itself. Its orange carpel slithered over his curled toes and, without a sound, sealed Timothy inside. With its long stalk full of squirming boy-flesh, the daisy was quite satisfied. Timothy hung in the daisy's body, wriggling in meek protest, a massive bulge for such a small flower.

Timothy's moans were muffled and soft as the daisy's body began to work on processing him into nothing but a slurry of nutrients. Nutrients which would keep the plant nice and healthy until Timothy's landlord came, in a week or month, and found it abandoned. And in desperate need of pruning.
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Re: Belloc's Latest Stories

Postby Belloc » Thu May 26, 2016 7:40 am

Haven't put anything up here in a while, so here's an older one I really enjoyed writing. A bit of Miraculous Lady Bug vore fiction. Chat Noir is such a great character. Arrogant and with a leather suit that is perfect for showing off a gut. I had to give him a try when I saw him. :D So I hope you folks enjoy a cute cat filling up on a bully.

If you'd like to see it in the gallery, look here.

M/F, Oral Vore, Implied Digestion, Big Belly

Spoiler: show
“You will have to do better than that! Chat Noir, Ladybug!”


Le Bibliothécaire laughed maniacally as she leapt from the window of the school's library, whirling away on a storm of paper. An hour ago, the mild mannered woman had been Elizabeth Barr, the school's meek librarian. Now, she was the supervillain, Le Bibliothécaire, and she left the library filled with books where students had been. Large books, each with the face of a student, sat on the tables and chairs around the library. Ladybug stopped to pick up one with Ayla's face on it.


“Ayla,” she said, running a finger down the cover. Closing her eyes, Ladybug gathered her resolve. She turned to Chat Noir, who was pulling himself from under a pile of fallen books. “We have to stop her before she adds more to her collection!”


“Right,” said Chat Noir, picking up his staff. Despite having been slammed against a shelf and buried, his wild blonde hair was still, as always, the same, cocksure mess around his black cat ears. The skin-tight leather of his suit had not even torn. He was obnoxiously okay, having already regained his swagger. “After all, a well-read woman is a dangerous creature. Let's-”


Before he could say more, a scream cut through the library. Ladybug readied her yoyo. Chat Noir prepared his staff, crouching, ready to strike. Someone ran from behind one of the far shelves to a table where sat a single, lonely book.


“Oh no!” Chloe Bourgeois screamed, lifting the book which bore the face of her “friend” Sabrina. “Sabrina. You never even finished my biology report! This is not fair.”


Chat Noir and Ladybug groaned.


“Glad to see you care so deeply,” Chat Noir said. Chloe scowled at them, her meticulous ponytail still in place, her makeup completely unsmudged. Of course, she had come away fine. Chat Noir continued, “If you hadn't knocked down Miss Barr's display, maybe none of this would happen.” He pointed to a pile of disheveled pages by the check-out counter. It had been Miss Barr's prize display, a model of the school done with loose pages, book spines, and other reclaimed objects. She had prepared it for the school's anniversary. Too bad Chloe had ruined it by an errant swing of her backpack. And filmed Miss Barr trying pitifully to put it back together afterward. Laughing.


Stamping towards them, Chloe leveled a finger at the superhero duo.


“Without Sabrina, my biology write up will never get done! You two. You have to stop that crazy woman. Otherwise, I'll have to finish the report all on my own!”


Ladybug ran a hand down her face. Turning away from Chloe, she said, “Let's go, Chat Noir!”


“Right behind you, Ladybug.”


The two leapt from the library and followed after Le Bibliothécaire. She was not hard to find. A trail of books dotted the school grounds all the way to the front of the building. There, Le Bibliothécaire stood on a floating cloud of pages, a book open in her hand. Students ran in all directions from her, but Le Bibliothécaire tore a page from her book and cast it at them. When the page struck the students, they fell, instantly transformed into books. Le Bibliothécaire laughed.


“Yes,” she cried. “Books. Books and silence! No more noise, no more distraction. Only quiet in the library!”


Chat Noir charged forward. “I'll show her quiet!”


He was yanked short by his tail, causing him to fall on his butt. Ladybug hauled him back.


“Don't just charge in,” she said. “That got you plastered to a book shelf last time.” Looking around, she realized Le Bibliothécaire was floating right over a fountain by the school front. In the center, water spouted from a floral pillar. She pointed at the fountain and said, “Think her books can handle a little moisture?”


Chat Noir understood. He grinned, a boyish, infuriating smile that Ladybug normally could not stand, and winked one of his large, green eyes at her. They both ran, Chat Noir to the right, Ladybug to the left. She cried out, “Le Bibliothécaire!” With a toss of her wrist, she sent her yoyo flying.


Le Bibliothécaire heard her and cast a page, striking the yoyo from the sky. She laughed. “You are too loud, Ladybug! I think it time for you to learn to appreciate the quieter arts!”


Distracted by Ladybug, Le Bibliothécaire did not notice Chat Noir running to the fountain. Chat Noir raised one clawed hand. He shouted, “Cataclysm!” Black swirled from his palm as he dove over the fountain, hand stretched out. Le Bibliothécaire realized too late what was happening. Chat Noir touched the pillar. The stone cracked and crumbled. It burst open as the water pressure within overwhelmed the weakened structure. A towering jet sprayed upward, hitting Le Bibliothécaire from below, soaking her and her book.


However, the water did not ground her immediately. Her pages dropping away from under her in sodden clumps, Le Bibliothécaire flew out over the school grounds. Dripping wet, she shouted over her shoulder, “This isn't over, Ladybug, Chat Noir! A little water damage is not enough to stop me!”


Ladybug stamped her feet. She ran after Le Bibliothécaire. Chat Noir, however, ran the other way, towards the school. Calling to him, Ladybug said, “Chat Noir. Where are you going?”


“Go ahead,” he said. His ring beeped and the green paw last one of its pads. “I have to recharge. I will catch up. Don't let her give you any nasty paper cuts to that pretty face, Ladybug!”


Ladybug rolled her eyes and took off down the street, following the trail of soaked paper. Chat Noir went inside the school. He looked for an empty room where he could detransform and let Plagg recover. However, he stopped before the open door of the library as something caught his eye.


Chloe was still in the library. She was bent over a book bag next to the table Sabrina had been using. As Chat Noir watched, she dug out a notebook, spread it open on the table, and removed a set of pages from it. Then, erasing something, she began to scribble in the corner of the paper.


Chat Noir let out a sound of disgust. Pushing open the door, he said, “Unbelievable! You know, for someone so pretty you have such an ugly personality.”


Chloe jumped, hiding the papers behind her back. Assuming her usual, spoiled attitude, she waved Chat Noir away.


“Don't you have a supervillain to stop? Go on. Go do your job!”


“You're stealing homework from your friend? While she's trapped as a book?” He stood over Chloe, looking down at her with a scowl that was harsh on a face so normally gleeful. “Do you have any shame or is it that you just aspire to new lows everyday?”


Gasping, Chloe hugged the papers to her chest, turning her head.


“How dare you? Sabrina would want me to use her homework. I am honoring her by doing what I know she would think best.”


Chat Noir groaned. From underneath his leather, his stomach growled loudly. At the same moment, the ring on his hand blinked and lost another pad. He had to find food soon.


His stomach growled again, low and wet. Chat Noir looked Chloe over, his wide eyes flitting across her body with a strange, enigmatic gaze. Chloe notice and backed away, unnerved.


“Wh-what?” she asked.


A smile came to Chat Noir's lips, mischievous beneath his black mask.


“Maybe,” he said, stepping closer. “I don't need to feed Plagg after all. I just need something nice and filling.” His pink tongue pushed out from between his lips, licking them.


Chloe held Sabrina's papers before her like a shield. Even the school bully could tell she was in trouble. She looked for someone to call for help. There was no one. Chat Noir's stomach gurgled angrily. Chloe could hear it through the leather that covered his body. She looked down at his trim torso, then back at his face, those hungry eyes. He couldn't intend to really do this!


Chat Noir lunged at her. Chloe screamed, dropping the papers, turning to run, but she had walked into a corner of the library. She hit one of the bookshelves, finding herself completely boxed in. Chat Noir gave her no time to look for a way out. He seized her by the arms, pulling her to him. His body was lean, powerful. She struggled, twisting, but she couldn't pull away.


Laughing at her attempts to pull free, Chat Noir said, “Sorry. I'm not a fan of cat and mouse games. I don't like to hunt my meals. Just enjoy them.”


He lifted Chloe up. She screamed as he showed how strong he was, hoisting her in the air, supporting her weight with one hand. With the other, he tore her shoes off with his claws. These were designer shoes. Chloe was distracted from her danger for a moment as her heart ached to see beauty so abused. Then, Chat Noir lifted her feet towards his mouth. He opened his pink lips wide. His maw yawned, long strands of drool running down over his lips and onto her socks, soaking into them so she could feel the wet warmth. He bent his head and pushed her feet in between his lips. Chloe screamed in disgust as she felt her feet actually fit in his mouth. She squirmed, revolted, at the feeling of his tongue undulating beneath her soles, his cheeks squeezing tight around her feet. Even worse, she felt a clenching tunnel of flesh pull her toes in and, with a loud gulp, begin to drag her down. Chat Noir was swallowing her whole!


“No,” she howled, trying to kick her feet free. Chat Noir's lips were like iron manacles on her ankles. He held her with both arms now, preventing her from pulling away. With a slurp, he swallowed more of her legs, moving over her slim calves. His tongue slithered across her skin. It was disgusting and slimy! His throat was just as bad. If his mouth was this gross, then what would it be like when he finished with her?


Chloe did not want to find out. She screamed, “Help me! Someone, please! Chat Noir has become a villain! Ladybug, save me!”


A muffled laugh bubbled from Chat Noir's throat. He pulled Chloe in, slurping down her legs. His mouth bulged opened as he pulled her hips between his lips. Chloe could no longer kick her legs at all. The tight confines of his throat restricted her so much that she could not even struggle.


“You cannot do this! I am Chloe Bourgeois! I am the daughter of the Mayor of Paris! I am the most important girl in this school, in this city! You must let me go right now or else you will be forced to answer to my father for this!”


The only answer to her threats was a loud swallowing, a tight pulling of Chat Noir's throat, and the feeling of her stomach sliding down into a tight, wet pit. Chat Noir's lips were now rising over her body like a tide, like quick sand. Chloe pushed at his face with her hands. Chat Noir pushed her hands to her side and pulled them between his lips. His mouth loomed under her and, now, Chloe could not even reach out for help. Her own mouth hung open in shock and horror. She stared into those handsome green eyes. Chat Noir winked at her.


Chloe screamed. She gave one, last, desperate struggle, pulling and twisting and thrashing. Chat Noir swallowed her chest. His lips rose around her shoulders and sealed over her neck. Chloe shook her head.


“No no no! This can't be happening! This can't be happening! This can't be happening!”


Placing a hand to the back of her head, Chat Noir slowly pushed Chloe down. He gave her a long, last look at the library as his moist lips rose over her screaming mouth, over her nose, around her eyes, and finally down over her head, leaving her ponytail hanging out. Tipping his head back, her screaming muffled under his skin, Chat Noir swallowed, the ponytail being pulled into his body as Chloe slithered down his throat and into his gut. The crushing walls dragged her down into the slimy, squeezing confines of his stomach.


Chat Noir's stomach put his leather to work, stretching it across the tight dome of his packed belly. Chloe's outline was clear even through the leather, curled in a tight ball. His stomach churned around her loudly. Chat Noir laid his hand on his stomach and looked at his ring. The paw was a bright, bold green again, completely restored.


“Hey, Chloe,” said Chat Noir, licking the last of her taste from his lips. “I think I found what you are good for. I could probably go all night with you in my belly.”


Chloe screamed a muffled protest.


“Oh, you don't want to spend a night in my stomach? Oooh, that is too bad, Chloe. I'm afraid cats don't let the mice go after they eat them. I know it's hard for you. A stomach isn't a very clean place. But look on the bright side; you won't have to worry about that biology report.”


Chat Noir stroked his gut as it groaned around its struggling meal. He enjoyed the sensation until a thought suddenly struck him.


“Ah,” he said, looking down at his stomach. “How am I going to fight like this?”
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Belloc
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Re: Belloc's Latest Stories

Postby Belloc » Wed Jun 22, 2016 8:20 am

Today is a twofer: two of my recent commissions!

First: Time Lord Toys

A commission for chaos. Contains F/M, F/F, Micro prey, Anal Vore, Unbirth, and Implied Digestion

The Doctor and Rose's latest trip in the TARDIS ended up stranding them in Rose's apartment... and only three inches tall. When the two time hoppers decide this is as a good a place as any to get intimate, they are unfortunately interrupted by Jackie, who finds a better use for the pair.

This was my first time writing for a series that isn't a cartoon or video game. The Tenth Doctor is a load of fun to write for. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Spoiler: show
Rose Tyler had had fantasies like this. Indeed, the reality exceeded her deepest dreams. The Doctor's lips were warm and soft against her own... when they weren't burning against the flesh of her neck, the skin of her breast, or the tender expanse of her stomach. His fingers pressed her gently, moving up her ribs, along her arm, and gripping her just above the bicep as he held her against the couch. That tan jacket and striped coat that so often flapped around him were gone, tossed away, leaving the toned chest exposed, flat and firm. She ran her fingers over the tight skin, feeling the muscles beneath and, deeper down, the beating of two hearts, both frantic. It thrilled her to feel the Doctor's excitement match her own.


The Doctor's lips pressed lower, kissing her belly and along the line of her waist. Then they touched the tender flesh between her thighs, and Rose arched her back, pulling in air with a sharp gasp.


“Here I was,” she said, breathlessly. “Worried when I saw that new face. This new hair.” She reached down, running her fingers through his dark locks between her thighs. “I'm starting to really like this new you, Doctor.”


The Doctor, after one more touch of his lips to her's, moved back up, smiling like a boy. He took her fingers from his hair and kissed her hand, saying, “What, you didn't like my hair? I'll admit I was a bit disappointed too. I was hoping for a touch of red.” Letting go of her hand, he moved his own lower, down between her legs. A moment later, Rose felt those sneaky digits part open her lips, teasing along the inner flesh of her sex. She writhed, needy for more than just a slight touch.


“Settled for a touch of pink, did you?” she said with a forced laugh. He kissed her, roughly, his breath hot on her cheek as he said, “Bad joke.” His fingers pushed deeper and Rose could not stifle the long, low moan that surged from her.


The sound of her moan came back faint and tiny in the large apartment. Not because the apartment was truly large, but because the two entangled on the couch were quite small. Their last trip in the TARDIS ended somewhat suddenly and shockingly, marooning them quite unexpectedly on the furniture in Rose Tyler's apartment. Only, while everything else was unchanged, the two of them were about three inches tall.


How they had ended up in a tangled mess on the couch, Rose could hardly say. Since his regeneration, there had been a new drive to the Doctor. A passion or energy she'd never seen in him before. It was infectious, bleeding into Rose as they traveled together. She'd kept her dreams of touching that dark, thick hair and holding that tall, stout body against her own to herself, but when they both ended up the size of dolls on her own couch, well....


The Doctor leaned down, and closed his lips over the taut flesh of her nipple, driving back all thoughts. Rose gripped his head with both hands, pressing her body up against his, wanting to touch him with every inch of herself, to feel him against her. In her. The Doctor moved his hand out from between her thighs and instead took hold of her hips. He pushed forward and Rose gasped as she felt the tip of his cock, stiff and throbbing, part open the lips of her sex. Slowly, he drove it into her, pressing open her cunt with a deliberate steadiness. Rose ran her hands down his neck and along his back, biting her lip as the full, swollen length of him pushed deeper and deeper into her.


Shifting his weight, the Doctor rolled suddenly, bringing Rose out from under him and moving beneath her. Her weight pressed her down on him without warning, driving her onto his cock till they were hip to hip. Rose arched her back with a cry of delight, heat and pleasure rushing up between her hips, causing her toes to curl against the fabric of the couch. She placed her hands on the Doctor's chest, leaning against him, pressing her hips down to grind against his as he pushed up.


The Doctor held Rose by the hips, his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass. He thrust, groaning as if trying to lift a heavy load. The pressure, the heat. Rose ran her fingers over his chest, rocking her hips against his. As if stirred on by her touch, the Doctor began to thrust more frantically. Rose bounced on him, her heavy breasts bouncing against her torso, the fleshy smacking of skin on skin loud in both their ears. Rose lost herself in the heat of the moment. All she heard was their own breathing and the sound of their skin grinding together. All she felt was him deep inside her. Her climax began to rise up in her stomach like a boiling fire. Rose moaned, her head down, her hair hanging in the Doctor's face as he gritted his teeth, thrusting harder, faster, more eager.


Their noises were suddenly stifled as something massive and soft came down on both of them. The huge weight crushed Rose to the Doctor's body. The air was knocked from his lungs as a massive pair of blue jeans, filled with something very heavy and very flesh, smothered them.


For a moment, neither of the two could move. They squirmed against each other, pressed face-to-face. The Doctor slid out of Rose with some little difficulty due to the tight quarters. “Didn't you say no one was home?” he groaned.


“No one was,” Rose snapped back. The house had been empty when they arrived. Had they gotten so caught up in sex that they did not even hear someone come in? They twisted and struggled, trying to crawl out from under the ass crushing them. The air was stifled and musky. The Doctor managed to at last roll over enough so that Rose wasn't on top of him anymore. When she slid down beside him, the weight on them shifted. The huge ass leaned over, lifting, finally giving them air to breath.


A hand reached under. Huge fingers closed over them both and pulled them out of the fleshy cavern. The Doctor and Rose were caught up, blinking, to see Jackie Tyler on the couch, staring down at them. Seeing her mother, Rose began to babble, unable to think of anything to say. She and the Doctor were completely naked, and the Doctor's cock was still hard enough that there was no question of what they'd been doing. What could she possibly say to her mother like this?


Jackie looked between her daughter and the time lord for several seconds before, finally, the Doctor cleared his throat and said, “Hello... Jackie.” As if broken from some spell, Jackie smiled and said, “Well, this is right cute. I reckon Rose left the two of you before she went on another wild trip.”


The words caught the Doctor and his companion just as unprepared as Jackie's ass had. Rose looked at the Doctor and mouthed, “What?” The Doctor, for his part, had no idea what and said, “Left... us, did she? Yes, sure, she left us. You called it, Jackie. Well done, girl, well done. She left... us.” He looked to Rose for help but Rose was still trying to find a way to get her mouth working again.


“That's swell,” said Jackie, leaning back against the couch. “After killer Christmas trees and the world ending and aliens, a few robo-dolls of the two of them is about the best thing she's ever brought back from her trips. Funny she left you two without clothes, but, now that I get to looking...” She grinned. “I don't reckon I mind.”


Relief started to sneak into Rose's brain. They hadn't been caught redhanded, at least not as she feared. So long as Jackie figured they were just toys, there was still a chance to get out of this with some measure of dignity intact. Rose, nodding stupidly, said, “Oh, yes. Absolutely Mom... Jackie. We're from the planet... Nexus... Beta... 3 Fi.” She looked to the Doctor for help, but he just shook his head enthusiastically. “Either way. We're top of the line. I... Rose wanted you to have some company while we're away, I mean, they're away. So here we are!”


Jackie laughed, slapping her thigh. “This is too much. That daughter of mine, I swear. Well, I suppose a bit of company wouldn't hurt.” Jackie looked at them, and, slowly, the look in her eyes changed from one of curiosity to a strange eagerness. It was not a look that Rose liked to see. She liked it even less when Jackie said, “The place does get mighty lonely when those two are gone. Mighty mighty lonely.”


“Well, lucky for you, Jackie,” the Doctor began, “I was programmed with jokes from six hundred different cultures. Let's see now. A Sensorite says to his barber-woah!” The Doctor was cut off as Jackie brought them closer to her. She pulled open the neckline of her shirt, the deep cleft of her cleavage dark within. Before Rose or the Doctor could protest, she shoved both of them between her breasts. Pressing them deep into the padded space, she let her shirt slap back into place, sealing them in.


Jackie headed into her bedroom, taking a moment on the way to lock the door, ensuring her privacy. Once alone, she stripped off her jeans and shoes, tossing them aside. She lifted her shirt, her bra still holding the two small “toys” in place between her breasts. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she pulled down her panties. Lying back on the bed, she undoes her bra and flings it away. Rose tumbles from the underside of her breasts onto her stomach, panting for air. The Doctor crawls up between them, half-dazed.


Jackie takes Rose in one hand and the Doctor in the other. With a small, almost childish smile, she rubs the two of them over her breasts, pressing them down against the plush, deep flesh, running their bodies along her own. “Sorry, loves,” she says. “Rose might've thought you two would make good conversation, but I've had quite enough of that man's sarcasm, thank you. Still, I think there's plenty of fun we can have, you being just the right size and all. Much as I grow tired of his mouth... I have always admired that man for his body.”


Lifting the Doctor from her breast, Jackie licked her lips. She spread her mouth open wide, her tongue soaked with saliva as she prepared to push the Doctor in. The Doctor, staring at her mouth as she opened it, could only mutter, “Oh. Well,” before his head was shoved against her warm, wet tongue. Jackie sealed her lips around the Doctor's stomach, sucking on him like a candy. She pulled him in between her lips before her pressing, licking tongue pushed him back out again. In and out, in and out over her lips again and again. Despite the way his legs flailed at being used for a lollipop, the Doctor's cock grew steadily stiff, dripping against Jackie's bottom lip.


Rose, managing to get her head above the suffocating flesh of her mother's breast, gasped out, “M-mom, wait. I... I lied. We're not robots, ok? It's me, Rose. That's really the Doctor. We just ended up three inches tall and I thought, hey, sex as a doll might be sort of fun, you know, but I didn't want you to find out. So I made up the whole thing. You've got to stop this, Mom!”


Jackie looked at Rose, the Doctor's lower half hanging from her lips, twitching and jerking with each stroke of her tongue along his body. She pulled him out for a moment and said, “Why, that's right clever. They even act like they're the real thing. I hope they put up the same fight as the real thing.” She returned the Doctor gasping to her lips and suckled on him as she lowered Rose past her breast, past her stomach, and down to her sex. Between her heavy thighs, the dark flesh of Jackie's cunt lay bare. Rose shuddered to look on her mother's sex, nearly as big as herself. She hoped Jackie would put her down somewhere else. She didn't. Instead, Jackie pressed Rose against the soft mound, the heat and musk of it rising up around her. Rose shouted, trying to push back against the slit, but she had nothing to hold on to. The soft flesh was too slick. Jackie shoved Rose into her cunt, the tight pink walls eagerly squeezing the small woman, pulling her deeper.


Jackie moaned around the Doctor's body. She pressed Rose in and out of her cunt, using her “robotic” daughter as a dildo. The thrill of this taboo pleasure, not to mention the otherworldly taste of the Doctor on her tongue sent shivers and shivers through Jackie's spine. She rocked her hips and arched her back, delighted at the sensations running through her. She began to whine deep in her throat, digging her shoulders against the mattress, her thighs in the air, her hips off the bed. The walls of her cunt ground tight against Rose's body. She couldn't beat them back. She felt them tighten and tighten until, with a moan from Jackie, they squeezed in sheer orgasmic delight, washing Rose in a thick flood of juice.


Relaxing back on the bed, bringing her wet hand away but leaving Rose to struggle and protest inside her, Jackie pulled the Doctor from her mouth. He was hard as he had been inside Rose. It was clear he enjoyed this just as much as Jackie did. Seeing this clear sign of his enjoyment, Jackie couldn't help teasing, “And they programmed you to be turned on at being eaten? That it?”


“Well, they had to, Jackie,” said the Doctor. Even though he was breathless from being sucked on and dripping with saliva, he still smirked in his carefree, sarcastic way. “They knew I'd be with someone possessed of a very sharp, very quick tongue. They said I might as well enjoy it.”


“I'm sure,” said Jackie. She squirmed, rubbing her thighs together. Rose's struggles were already making her eager for more, her body tensing with need. “I'll bet they didn't program for this, though.” She rolled over, lifting her butt in the air. Reaching back, she brought the Doctor around her huge backside. Using her free hand, she pulled back one fat cheek, revealing her pink and tan pucker. A mix of thrill and fear swept over the Doctor's face as Jackie pressed his saliva-moistened head against the tight mound of her asshole. He started to shout something, but was immediately muffled as Jackie pushed him through. Her ass clenched around this new delight. She groaned deeply. Her asshole squeezed the Doctor deeper into the crushing, hot tunnel of her bowels. It took almost no effort for her butt to pull the tiny time lord in.


The Doctor's kicking legs were not long in disappearing, and Jackie shook her hips as she felt him fight and thrash inside. She lay back, moaning, running a hand over her thigh, her stomach, and finally her breast, squeezing and massaging her nipple. Her other hand returned to her sex. She did not even have to touch it. Rose's frantic struggle kept flooding her with wave after wave of pleasure, the tiny body inside her flailing legs and arms against Jackie's sensitive, squeezing walls.


It wasn't long before she moaned in a second orgasm. Her body seized in delight, her asshole clenching tight, sucking the struggling body of the Doctor deeper. Jackie rolled on the bed, her hands moving over her body, trying to touch everywhere at once. Rose, deep in her mother's cunt, could feel herself being pulled further and further in. The tight walls pressed against her everywhere. She was slathered in cum and juice and sweat. She struggle, but every effort seemed to sink her lower. She tried shouting but could not get words out before her mouth was stuffed with flesh or cum. She thought she heard, near but very faint, another voice shouting. A second voice inside Jackie's body. But this disappeared as another orgasm clenched the walls and pulled her deeper.


When Jackie eventually drifted off into a sex-fueled dream, she could still feel the faint struggles of Rose. The Doctor, she could hardly feel at all.


The next morning, Rose awoke from an exhausted stupor when something heavy and warm ran across her body. She opened her eyes to see a large red tongue moving around her face. The tongue belonged to Jackie, who held Rose by her head on a pillow. She leaned forward and licked Rose again, the soft, bumpy skin of her tongue leaving Rose wet but somewhat clean of the caked-on glaze of cum she had spent the night covered in.


“They programmed you two right well enough,” said Jackie. “You'd have kept me going all night if I hadn't been tuckered out from work.”


“Mom,” said Rose, turning her face away from the next slow lick. “I'm absolutely serious. We're not toys. I lied. I'm really your daughter.”


Jackie laughed sleepily. Her belly gurgled down under the covers. “I love it. I love it, I love it. You're still keeping it up. That's great. I wonder if I can get Rose to bring another pair back from her next trip. I might need an extra.”


A chill swept down Rose's spine. “Extra?” She looked around the bed for any sign of the Doctor. She saw none. Not a lock of his dark hair, not the faintest chuckle of his sarcastic voice. Frantically, she asked, “What... what happened to the Doctor, Mom?”


With another yawning laugh, Jackie rolled over. She lifted her butt in the air, shaking the huge, round dome. “Right there,” she said, gesturing at her butt with her thumb. “Afraid my big booty has a bit of an eating problem. Things just tend to get lost in it when I push them up there. Happened to more than a few toys before you two, I can tell you that. And I guess it happened to the little Doctor.


Rose's mouth fell open. After everything, this was still, somehow, worst than all before. The thought of the Doctor, the last of the time lords, the man who had been with her through so many adventures, somewhere in the winding snake of her mother's colon was impossible for Rose to believe, let alone accept. She worked her mouth noiselessly until Jackie began to move her. Towards that huge, hungry ass.


Rose found the words now. “M-mom! What are you doing?”


“Mmm. I have to get to work, love. I figure you two are a pair. You might as well go to join the little Doctor.”


“Mom, no no no. Don't do this!” Rose watched in horror as her mom pulled open one ass cheek. The winking pucker of her ass clenched and tightened in anticipation. Jackie moved Rose closer, the thick, heady odor of sweat, musk, and foul air rising up like a miasma from that tight tunnel. Rose kicked and pushed at her mother's fingers, trying to pry herself loose, but the wrinkled flesh drew closer.


“D-doctor!” Rose shouted just as her mother shoved her head first into her asshole.


She didn't even have to push Rose inside. Jackie's asshole clenched and slurped Rose right out of her hand. It noiselessly devoured her. With only a few quick slurps, Rose's legs disappeared. Jackie could still feel them. Kicking, grinding against the walls that ground against her. Jackie smiled, rubbing her ass, her gut groaning eagerly. As she rose to get dressed, she felt her daughter struggle inside her, deeper and deeper, fainter and fainter. She wondered when Rose would be back so she could ask for more of those wonderful toys.


Next up: The Right One

A commission for madsci. This contains F/M, Crushing, Digestion, Post Vore Scat, and Non-consensual Sex.

Stacy is a high class girl. Smart, beautiful, talented. It's always been hard for her to find a guy who can compete with her, but, at last, she's found him: Alan. Brilliant, handsome, and skilled. Stacy knows he's just the guy for her.

All she needs is the approval of her best friend: Corri. Corri's huge. Corri's rude. Corri's gross. But, of course, Corri has Stacy's best interests at heart. After all, she's always been the one who made sure that Stacy doesn't get stuck with a bad boyfriend. If Alan doesn't meet Corri's standards well... she has ways of making sure he doesn't bother Stacy ever again.

I loved writing this. Corri was a totally nasty pred, cruel and casual about it. ;3

Spoiler: show
She'd found the one. None of her other relationships had worked out. The guys just had not been the right one. But Stacy knew: this was it. This was the one. She paced the floor of her living room as she waited for the doorbell to ring. Her slim dinner dress sashayed about her trim ankles. Stacy was a looker: among her peers, she stood out with a perfect hourglass figure, a gorgeous head of raven hair, a beautiful, youthful smile. At school, only three other students excelled her in awards, scholarships, and grades. At the track, she clocked the second fastest time on the team. In the choir, she always took center stage for the solo performance, whether vocal or violin.


Whoever Stacy dated had a lot to live up to. Though Stacy tried not to let her accomplishments affect her relationships, it was still so difficult to find the right one for her. None of the guys worked out. For one reason or another, they all fell below the bar. But she knew, with certainty, that this would be the one. If anyone could live up to the high standards Stacy's boyfriend had to meet, Alan could.


Alan. Stacy halted her pacing, smiling at the thought of him. He was handsome. Tall with lovely hair, a boyish face but a manly frame. He was smart. Top in the chemistry school. Third in mathematics. He was talented. He designed the new software for the university's library, and he won two of the last four invention fairs. Alan was the one. Stacy had gotten to know Alan more and more after they met in biochemistry. They'd talk so much during the trips to the library, working out the projects, planning the experiments. Her time with him filled her with a sense of contentment and closeness none of the other boys had ever brought. But tonight would be the night that proved it. After all, tonight, Alan would come over and have dinner with not just Stacy... but Corri.


There came a knock at the door. Stacy rushed over, opening it. Alan stood on the step, his hand still raised, his brown hair neatly combed. He wore a handsome but not excess white suit and had a box of chocolate under his arm. He smiled on seeing Stacy.


“Hey,” he said. “Not late, am I?” She must have looked flustered. Stacy blushed and twirled a finger in her hair.


“Oh. N-no, no. I was just... excited to see you. I'm really looking forward to tonight. I hope you enjoy yourself.”


“I'm sure I will,” said Alan. He stepped in. He didn't move in for a kiss or hug, showing more tact than any of the other boys. He offered the chocolates. She took them with a gleeful giggle. Restraining herself, she set the chocolates down and, with a small bow, said, “Dinner is ready, sir.”


Alan, in response, bowed graciously, “After you, madam.” He followed Stacy into the dining room. A large round table took up most of the space, a couple of curio cabinets full of flowers in the far corners of the room. However, Alan noticed none of this. His eyes stayed glued on the most dominating feature of the room: the seven foot tall woman, slouched in a huge chair at the table, an expansive beer gut pressed up to the edge of the wood. She was sloppily dressed. A stained wife beater shirt bunched up on the dome of her gut, holding back the swaying balls of her breasts. A pair of stretch pants sat cock-eyed on her hips and fat ass. She wore no shoes and propped her feet up on another chair, yellowed toes curled.


Alan halted in his tracks, but Stacy turned, smiling, and gestured at the woman without any sign of horror at her appearance. Stacy said, “Alan. I'd like you to meet my best friend. Corri.”


Corri did not stand to greet Alan. She picked at her nose, wiping the resulting mucus on her hip. “Yo. You're Stacy's new bitch? Cool. You'd better treat her right, or you'll be my bitch, got it?”


Alan was completely unprepared for being spoken to that way. His jaw hung open wordlessly. Stacy, however, merely chuckled and said, “Oh, Corri, trust me. Alan will not disappoint you. He's not like the others. He's smart. He's strong. He's kind. He's just right!”


“Uh-huh,” said Corri. “We'll see.”


Stacy took a seat and gestured for Alan to sit. There were plates already prepared for all three of them. Corri's was right in between Alan's and Stacy's. Alan walked around the table and looked down at his chair. Corri's feet were still in it. The sweaty smell of her toes made Alan's nose crinkle. He cleared his throat and asked, “Could you... move, please?”


“Could,” Corri said, eying him with her hard, mean gaze. She didn't move. Stacy laughed and patted Corri's shoulder. “Oh, stop teasing, Corri.” At that, Corri let her feet down. Alan took his seat, the funky smell still heavy in the air.


Corri turned on her plate, loudly shoveling the pasta into her mouth, pushing the toasted garlic bread in after it with wet, sloppy smacks. Alan looked between her and Stacy, unable to understand how this pair of complete opposites could be seated here together.


While Corri loudly chomped away at her food, dripping juice on the table and herself, Stacy, as if seeing Alan's question in his eyes, said, “I don't think I ever told you about me and Corri, did I Alan? Actually, we go way way back. Corri's been my best friend since we were kids. She's looked out for me.” Stacy laughed. “Honestly, I don't know where I'd be without her.”


“Dating garbage,” said Corri through a mouthful of food. She paused in her munching, belched loudly, then went right back to stuffing her face. The air, which had smelled of warm food and the flowers in the curios before, became tainted with rank gas.


“Probably so,” said Stacy, a little sad. “See, Alan, I'm, well, actually a really bad judge of character. I've always had to rely on Corri to judge for me. Ever since I was young. A girl in class would be nice to me, and I'd think 'Oh, she wants to be my friend.' But Corri would see that she's just trying to use me for homework. I would find a guy who is nice and caring. I'd think, 'Maybe we should go out.' But Corri could tell that he just wanted me for sex. She's protected me all my life. She's always been my class partner when we take class together. So that others don't abuse me for my brain. She's helped me avoid being used for my success by being my roommate and scaring off those folks who want to mooch off me. See, without her, so many people would have taken advantage of me. It's... a little scary honestly.”


She shuddered to think of her lot in life without Corri, even as Corri, who had inhaled her own plate, began to fork pasta from Stacy's plate into her slimy mouth. Alan couldn't think of what to say. He'd known Stacy for weeks; she'd mentioned Corri a couple of times, but not much. To see her here, standing up for this gross, rude bully, even as they so clearly abused her kindness. It was clear that if what Stacy said is true, all Corri did was get to Stacy before another slimeball could and dug her claws in deep. Alan began to feel that this perfect girl might not be worth the trouble.


“I... see,” was all Alan managed before Corri pulled his plate to her and, with another belch right in his face, began to scarf down Alan's portion. Stacy, as if only just now noticing the lack of food for herself and her date, clapped her hands and said, “Oh! Second course. I still have to finish preparing it. Tell you what, you two need to get to know each other. After all, no boyfriend of mine can go without being friends with my BFF. I'll let you guys chat while I get the rest of dinner ready, okay?”


Stacy rose and sashayed out of the room. For a long, awkward moment, Alan just stared in disgust as Corri put away three person's worth of pasta, salad, and bread. Her beer belly became tight as the head of drum, fat as a tire. When she was just about through, she leaned to one side of her chair, lifted a leg, and let out a wet, noxious fart. Alan's nose burned at the horrible odor. He coughed, turning away, fanning the air. Corri just slurped the last of the food from her plate. Wiping her mouth on her hand, she let out a contented groan. Then, leaning back in her chair till it creaked pitifully, she eyed Alan with a mean, hungry gaze.


“So you think you're good enough for Stacy?” she finally asked. From the kitchen, Stacy's high, chipper voice could be heard, singing over the sizzling of food. Alan suddenly felt more than just disgusted. He felt in danger. This huge, disgusting woman had him cornered. She was between him and the exit. And she was not looking kindly at him. Her stomach gurgled loudly and wetly, groaning around its meal.


“I... think that Stacy is an intelligent, responsible woman,” said Alan, choosing his words deliberately. “I think she can make her own choice of who is good enough for her.”


Corri scoffed. She ran her eyes over him and then, in a gesture that shook him to his core, she licked her lips.


“I think you need a test run.”


Suddenly, Corri reached out, grabbing hold of Alan's arm. She yanked him from his chair, her big body jiggling as she moved. She wasn't just big but strong, and she pulled Alan along easily despite his protests. He shouted for Stacy. She appeared in the doorway to the kitchen a moment later, startled.


“W-what's wrong?” she asked. Corri turned back and said with a grin, “Nothing girl. Just giving the old test run. We're fine.” Alan yanked at his captured arm, saying to Stacy, “Stacy, tell her to let me go!” Instead of doing any such thing, Stacy did something that froze Alan's blood. She smiled. With a small laugh, she said, “It's okay, Alan. Corri always tests my boyfriends before I date them. That way, she knows they're good for me. Don't worry! You'll pass just fine, I know it.” Winking, Stacy flitted back into the kitchen, humming a tune. Alan, his mouth hung open, did not think to resist as Corri dragged him off like a caveman dragging his meal.


The bedroom was just like Stacy: lovely and perfectly put together. The large, soft bed, the swooping the gentle evening light through the window, and the cleanliness all would have made this the perfect site for their first night together. Instead, Alan was thrown onto the bed savagely by Corri, who towered over him. Her belly bulged like a hill under the two sacks of her breasts that strained her shirt. Corri wasted no time. She pushed down her pants, the flexible fabric straining to release her massive hips and ass. Alan tried to get up, but Corri shoved him back down. He protested, saying, “You can't make me do this!”


Corri grinned a cruel, foul grin. Her belly hung over her sex, her great meaty thighs rising to meet it. She leaned down, forcing Alan onto the bed. She gripped the collar of his shirt just under his neck. Her heavy, scummy breath washed over his face as she said, “Of course I can. I'm Stacy's best friend remember? You think she'd ask me to stop? Then how will she know if you're the right man for her? Nope. I'm going to ride you, and if you don't impress me...” She laughed. “Then she won't need you.”


Corri pulled open his buttoned shirt, yanking it apart so that the buttons flew. Alan's chest lay bare. Corri flung his belt away and pulled off his pants, stripping him with rough, powerful hands until he lay on the bed, his cock heavy on his thigh. Her body overwhelmed him, smothering him as she tore apart his clothing, thick flesh grinding against him. In spite of himself, the heat and grinding caused his cock to stiffen. He did not want this, but he couldn't stop his cock from hardening as Corri rubbed herself against him.


When she had him naked, Corri looked him over. She clearly liked what she saw. The toned, muscular body, the thick, sensitive dick. Licking her wet lips, she peeled her shirt off, letting the heavy orbs of her breasts sag on her gut. They were milky pale with two tight, pink nipples, stiff and excited. She rubbed them, pawing her own breasts for a moment as she watched Alan's cock throb to life. Then, she crawled onto the bed over Alan, a thick smell of sweat and musk rolling off her.


She sat herself on his lap. Alan cried out as her huge weight came down on his legs, straining his knees even with the softness of the bed cushioning him. She felt like a mountain, but at the same time, his cock pushed up between her folds and into the heat of her sex. Moist, clenching flesh enveloped his shaft, pulsing and drawing him deeper. He let out a strain groan of mixed pain and unwanted pleasure. Corri chuckled, delighted, rocking her hips, grinding against him.


“Yeah,” she said, “not bad, little shit. You're certainly big enough.” She leaned over him, grinding and rolling on his hips, her tight walls squeezing his length. Her face loomed over his, her long greasy hair hanging on his cheeks, brushing his nose and eyes. Her massive breasts swung below his chin. As she rutted against him, Corri's gut gurgled with a high whine, rising up her chest until.... Blllrrrrlllppppp. She belched right in his face, spraying Alan with spit. The noxious fumes stung Alan's already strained lungs.


She rode his cock, the bed straining with her great, slow motion. Each motion strained his legs. But Alan was strong. He gritted his teeth and bore it, even pushing back, thrusting into Corri. He didn't want this, but he if he could just get her off him, then he could get out of this nightmare place and far from this woman. Corri let out a few low, piggish grunts, her sex becoming more responsive, tighter and more greedy.


Then, someone appeared in the door. Alan heard the slight clink of glass. Stacy walked in, carrying a tray with three plates of hot food, as well as the box of chocolates. The warm, comforting smell of cooked meat mixed with the terrifying musk of Corri's body. Alan, seeing her, groaned, “St-stacy... get her off me!”


Stacy, with a small blush, looked first at Alan, then at Corri. Corri continued to grunt like a beast, bouncing harder on Alan's legs. The tortured joints of his knees screamed out. His thighs felt like they would explode. Alan groaned, pleading with his eyes for Stacy to help him.


Corri, noticing Stacy, said, “Oh good. Seconds. Feed me, Stace.” Stacy looked at Alan, hesitating for a moment as she saw how he writhed her Corri's huge body, but then she perked up with a smile. “Sure, Corri. I know you get hungry testing guys out for me.”


Alan watched, stunned, as Stacy came to the bed. Corri sat back, making Alan scream as she rested more of her weight on his knees. He couldn't keep fucking her cunt, but Corri hardly seemed to notice. She continued to pound her hips against him, her sex pulsing and squeezing around his cock, as she leaned her head back and opened her mouth. Stacy picked up a plate and lifted bits of food from it, dropping them right into Corri's maw. Corri smacked grossly around her mouthfuls, swallowing them, the bulge of the meat sliding down her throat.


Alan's face was red as a tomato. His legs felt like two bridges about to fall. He whined, “Stacy please!” Stacy looked at him, pity in her eyes. She turned to Corri and said timidly, “Do you... think he's okay?”


Corri said around a half-chewed mouthful, “We'll find out soon, won't we?”


“No, I mean, is he... alright? He looks hurt.”


Corri licked her chops cleans, gesturing for Stacy to hold the plate closer so she could lick it clean as well. Juice dripped on her breasts, staining them. The warm meat juice splattered on Alan's face. Stacy put down the clean plate and picked up another full one. As she did, Corri gave Alan a ravenous look and said, “If he breaks, then you know he isn't the right one. Isn't that obvious? Geez, Stace, you're lucky I'm around to do all this for you, or you'd have ended up with a bad guy a long time ago. You always have to push them to the limit. Otherwise, you'll be sorry when you get stuck with a shit boyfriend.”


Stacy sighed, lifting the next piece of meat delicately with her slender fingers. “I suppose so.” Before she could drop it in, Corri held up a hand.


“Wait,” she said, a cruel smile forming on her lips. “I think I need a little help here Stace. Get up here with me.”


A meek squeak came from Stacy's throat. She looked at Alan, who shook his head wildly, then at Corri, who nodded. “Yeah,” she went on, “Climb on up. He needs to handle you too, right? Besides, I need someone to rub my gut. You know how my belly gets from fucking. All this bouncing's got it in a roar.” As if to demonstrate how much of a “roar” her gut was in, she let out another burp, saliva splattering her lips and Alan's cheeks.


Stacy hesitated. She fidgeted, torn between her best friend and the best boyfriend she'd ever had. Alan tried to say something, to beg her not to add to the weight, but all that came out was a strained groan as he tried to suck in air. Then, Stacy undressed. She pulled off the slim dress and top, exposing a body that was lush, lithe, and lovely. She was perfect, and even in his agony Alan had to stare, enraptured by the sight of her. His cock jolted eagerly in Corri's cunt. The big bully noticed. She laughed and said, “You like that? Think you're good enough for that? Then prove it. Climb up here, Stace.”


Gingerly, Stacy mounted the bed. Then she mounted Alan. She straddled the young man with a bit of hesitation, swinging her long legs over him. Alan watched that firm, compacted bottom lower down on him and for a moment it was lovely. Then Stacy sat on him and he howled, a razor of pain racing up his legs as something tore. He begged, “Get off! I can't take it, please.”


Stacy, blushing and trying not to look at Alan, began to rub Corri's gut as she lifted more food from the plate to feed her “best friend.” Corri just said, “You got to get me off first, little shit. And you aren't doing too good a job. Better start bucking if you don't want me to stay on you till you break.” She opened her mouth and slurped down more food. Her weight seemed to actually increase. Alan didn't know how much more he could take. He began to pitifully thrust up into her, his legs in agony with each thrust. He kept his eyes focused on Stacy's ass, trying not to feel the horrible, fiery pain in his legs.


Corri murmured happily as Alan worked her cunt, nodding. “Yeah, there you go. Fuck me, bitch. You might be just what Stacy needs after all. Right, Stace?” Stacy smiled shyly and nodded, stroking Corri's belly, reach under the swell and stroking up the dome. Corri took hold of her head and pushed her face against one large, juice-stained breast. As she did, she groaned, her cunt tight and moist around Alan's cock, quivering and clenching with each push. His legs begged for a reprieve.


Stacy, her head muffled against the massive breast of her friend, still lifted food for Corri to slurp down. Saliva and partially chewed mulch sprayed out from her wet chewing, dripping on Alan's face, staining his handsome hair. His toes were dark from lack of circulation, but still he tried to please Corri, more from fear than any desire to impress her. Besides the fact that she could easily break his legs right now, there was something frightening about Corri. Maybe it was the animal way she took what she wanted, or the hungry way she looked at him. Alan watched another morsel slide down her throat and into her churning gut.


Corri belched and shook her head, cheeks inflamed. “Ugh, yeah! That it's. Get in there. Deeper.” Alan didn't know if she were talking to her dinner or him. She shoved Stacy's head between her breasts, Stacy's hands groping and rubbing her gut and boobs as Corri began to pound her hips faster and faster against Alan's. The bed gave out titanic shrieks, the mattress dipping almost to the floor. Alan screamed, but Corri roared over him, “Deeper, bitch! Deeper. Another bite, Stace.”


Stacy floundered for the last bit of food on the plate. Alan shrieked, “Please, God, stop! My legs.” He could feel his knees buckling. His legs were bending the wrong way. He could not keep up the frantic thrusting into Corri's squeezing sex. Stacy lifted the final piece of food. Alan watched as she held it over Corri's quivering lips, their rocking slinging juice all over the three of them. She dropped the piece.


Corri wolfed it down with a long, loud moan, and as she did, her body tensed. A surge of pressure and moisture washed Alan's cock. She dropped her full weight on Alan in the throes of her orgasm, driving his cock as deep as her fleshy thighs would allow. A moment later, two loud, wet cracks came from under her as his legs gave way, sending Alan into a writhing, shrieking fit of agony.


Purring delightfully as the food slid down her throat, Corri looked down on Alan. She shuddered, eyes rolling from her orgasm. Even in his agony, Alan felt it. The clenching of her walls. The surge of wetness that sprayed his crotch. It was all utterly distant, eclipsed by the two suns of pain in his legs. Alan screamed, twisting like a pinned insect under Corri. The bully, grunting as the last of her orgasm faded, smiled.


“Whoops. Guess this one's not as good as we thought, huh, Stace?” Stacy, finally free of Corri's hand, resurfaced with a gasp from her dirty breasts. She looked at the painful face of Alan with pity and sorrow. He was not even speaking coherently anymore. Just screaming and moaning about his legs.


Corri letting out a burp, rose off of Alan's body. His legs were a horrible mangle, bent like rag doll limbs at the knees. He whimpered pitifully, staring at the horrible mess of his own body, reaching out as if to try and put it back together only to fall back in another groan of agony. Stacy stepped off the bed gingerly, trying not to hurt Alan further. Her head hung low, sniffling quietly. Corri, seeing this, patted her roughly on the shoulder and said, “No worries, girl. I'll deal with him.”


“Oh God,” murmured Alan, seeing Corri come for him. “God, ahh.” Before he could even understand what was happening, Corri took hold of his shoulders. She dragged him up from the bed. He screamed in pain but his scream was cut off as she shoved him head-first into her slime-coated mouth. Her nasty tongue lathered his face, soaking him in her brine. Then, she swallowed. Another powerful gulp followed, ripping Alan from the bed and plunging him down her throat. She devoured him as quickly as she had devoured his food. As if he were nothing at all. The bulge of Alan, screaming and struggling, ran down her chest, between her thick breasts, disappearing into her gut. A moment later, his head pushed into her belly and his screams turned into the awful sound of vomitting. Stacy winced. Alan had just found hell.


With a wet suckle, Corri slurped down Alan's stomach and hips, not even teasing his cock one final time. She gulped up his legs, leaning her head back so that the useless limbs, like cut puppet limbs, flopped across her face before sliding down to join the rest of him in her pit. Alan's retching turned into more screams as the walls began to grind against his broken limbs, the powerful, crushing muscles breaking new bones even before the scorching acid began to break his flesh.


Sitting back on the bed, stroking her gut as Alan bellowed in agony within her, Corri smiled at Stacy. She spread her thighs and pointed. “Mind helping me out, Stace? I saved you from a wimpy little shit of a boyfriend. Might as well return the favor.”


Stacy smiled meekly, nodding. “Sure, Corri,” she said. She started to get down on her knees, then stopped. She looked at the box of chocolates on the food tray. She had been hoping to share those with Alan, maybe after their first night together. Now, that would never happen. Alan turned out no different from any of the other people she thought could be her friend or her boyfriend. He wasn't good enough.


Stacy took the chocolates and gave them to Corri. She smiled, shyly. “I... I appreciate all you do for me.” Then, she knelt. She pushed her head in between Corri's thighs. The huge bully moaned as Stacy began to lick and suckle her sex. Alan heard her through the wall, his killer getting off as he was melted and mashed into mulch. He prayed for death, he begged to die. But he didn't.


He churned. He swirled. He was ground down to soup. His whole existence began a tight, nauseating ball of utter pain. But in the midst of that pain, Alan felt something thick and clumpy fall on his acid-scarred, partially crushed face. He was in too much of a haze of agony to understand what was happening, but he thought he heard, between the groans of Corri, a small wet smacking sound.


Corri popped another chocolate into her mouth as her guts gurgled. She patted her belly, which rested heavily on Stacy's head, chewing the chocolate loudly. “Mmmf. Good taste in candy though.”


The next morning, Corri woke from the sound of running water. She'd passed out on the bed after another orgasm or two, and the sheets clung to her slimy body. Her gut sagged on her knees, no longer tight. Just a soft, flubby mound. She waddled into the bathroom to find Stacy showering off the funk from the night before. Stacy couldn't look her friend in the eye. Her head hung low, her long hair a wet curtain covering her face.


Corri leaned and let out a wet, sputtering fart. She plodded her huge ass down on the commode. She said, “Ugh. Gross.” Then, without further ceremony, she grunted and strained. A wet splutter like a can of paint being flung on a wall rose from the porcelain bowl. A smell like open septic tanks filled the bathroom. Stacy gagged. Corri grunted and a soft wet crackle came from her ass. She shivered in delight, leaning forward, straining out the remains of Stacy's hopeful ex. As she leaned forward, Stacy caught a glimpse of the turd. It was massive, thick and snaky. Dark like dirty car grease. She had to look away.


After almost a minute of shitting, Corri rose. A thick meaty mound like soft serve peeked out from the bowl. She stared proudly at her work, patting her gut. Alan had been completely composted. Only a soft brown slurry remained, coiled and heaped in the bottom of the overly large bowl. No hairs. No bones. No teeth. Grinning, Corri said, “Welp, he won't be bothering you anymore, Stace.”


“Yeah,” said Stacy, morose.


Seeing her so despondent, Corri gave her a soft jab on the shoulder and said, laughing, “Buck up, girl. He wasn't the right one.” Then, she leaned forward and flushed. All that was left of Alan swirled down to its fate in the sewers as Stacy said, sadly, “They never are.”
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Belloc
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Re: Belloc's Latest Stories

Postby Belloc » Tue Jul 30, 2019 2:52 pm

Wow, geez I haven't updated this in a while. Let's pick up with the latest. I've posted a lot but for anyone interested in a new cock vore story, check out the latest!

This is Converge, an original story. It's based heavily on two novels I read recently about early 90s college life and the mid-80s hard drug party scene. It's about a college student named Margie who's returned home to her west coast city. Leaving behind her studies and scholarly work, she slides right back into the hard partying with her friends, and while she doesn't find the scene as appealing as it use to be, she still joins in. That is, until she finds herself at an unexpected literary discussion at the party, developing a slightly-drunken crush on a well read young man. When the two of them end up alone, Margie's in such a state of mind that she'd do pretty much anything. Even if it means the end of all her aspirations for one night of pleasure.

This story contains M/F, cock vore, digestion, cum disposal, drugs, and a willing (or at least semi-willing) prey.

Check it out here and I hope you all enjoy: https://aryion.com/g4/view/542537
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