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TMNT 2012 Vore - The (Ir)regular Reaction

It’s been a minute since I’ve been able to post a proper story, but here we are with another one. I watched this show as a kid and have seen some vore content with today’s pred, Raphael, but truth be told I haven’t watched an episode in around 10 years, so I apologize for any inaccuracies that may appear. Story is below the cut.

9:00 PM

We arrive in the sewers, where three mutant teenage turtles are laying around, watching tonight’s episode of some action show. Michelangelo, the zany one with the orange bandana, is zoned all the way in, munching on pizza. Leonardo, the leader and mature one, is also paying attention. Finally, Raphael, the hot-headed red one, is getting up to grab another slice of pizza since he already ate his first one. Way too quickly, mind you, since he’s hiccuping. He walks into the dining room with the slices of pizza to find Donnie with a random plastic project box, the side cut out and a needle sticking out of it, slightly glowing at the tip, pointed towards a Bubba Gump Glass.

“What’cha got there, Donnie?” Raphael asked, almost intrigued but not quite.

“This, Raph, is a shrink ray, a device that can shrink things down to a minute fraction of its original size. I’m just about to test it and see if the capacitors discharge, we get a working beam, and this glass shrinks.”

“O-Kay” Raphael replied, placing emphasis on the O for the sake of showing how he’s slightly concerned but not enough to do something about it. Although this kind of technology was innovative, he was more interested in the olde and more reliable technology known as the TV playing the show he was missing since Donnie was distracting him from grabbing another slice of the still warm pepperoni pizza. Besides, Donnie probably knew what he was doing, and even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. It would just blow up and he’d try again. That was one of his favorite traits of his scientific brother: even if he failed 20 times, he had the determination to fix the issues and get the thing working.

9:12 PM

As a new episode of the Star Trek wannabe show began, Raphael’s left ear picked up a high-pitched squealing different to the pitch of the old television in front of him. He had no doubt that Donnie had illuminated the kitchen with the beam he was speaking of. Unfortunately, as these things go, the squeal was interrupted by the sound of a loud explosion. Raph immediately looked on in surprise as he saw his brother, soot covering his face and the device in tatters.

“Are you alright?” Leonardo asked as he went to check on him and clean him up, wiping his face with a wet cloth to get the soot off.

“Yes, I’m alright. Just need to wait a bit and make sure the explosion didn’t make it-“

At nearly exactly this moment, the clock struck and the boys were called in for a mission by their father figure, Master Splinter. They speedily made it over to the dojo, where he stood, hands folded in his lap. The task was relatively straightforward: scout the city and stop the Foot Clan if there were any shenanigans. This was a nightly affair, as Shredder’s posse were always causing mayhem and disruption. So without further delay, they went out to the surface and slunk in the shadows towards an unlocked building with roof access.

9:16 PM

A little bit of this, a little bit of that, the boys made it to the roof of this tall building in Brooklyn. How the lock got picked is anybody’s guess.

“So, Donnie, your shrinking machine exploded in your face, but did you AT LEAST make a beam?” Raph asked

“WHAT? DONNIE MADE A SHRINK RAY?” Michelangelo, the orange-clad and zany one asked, eyes and voice filled with curiosity and awe.

“Indeed I did, Mikey, but it doesn’t quite work. The beam was bright for just a moment before it blew in my face”

“Is that going to affect the mission if we find some foot clan soldiers out?” Leonardo, the mature blue-clad leader asked. “Because if it has the potential to change your size after the fact, you may want to sit this one out.”

“I don’t believe it will, since the beam lost power before it would’ve hit my skin.” Donnie replied, not sounding fully confident in his theory but confident in his desire to participate. This was essentially his job, his duty to the city of New York, and he wasn’t about to skip because some invention blew up. Leo nodded to show acknowledgment.

“Hey, uh, Donnie, you look a little bit… shorter” Raph noticed.

“Don’t try and scare me, Raph!” Donnie yelped.

9:18 PM

Foot Clan soldiers spotted. The boys hopped to a streetlight and slid down it like the Ghostbusters. They could feel the cold night air as they dashed in the shadows towards the Foot Clan. The masked men heard the pitter patters of running right as the boys arrived, weapons branded. These soldiers recognized the turtles, though the purple one, the tallest usually, was now shorter than the blue one. It doesn’t seem like the turtles noticed though, as they were attacked by the soldiers. Donnie, now shorter than a soldier, went one by one, swinging his bo, and making contact with the faces of soldiers.

9:30 PM

While this group of soldiers was down, the night had far from ended. The three turtles took a moment to take a breath. It had been a stressful battle, but was small potatoes compared to what was en route.

“Uh, where on earth is Donnie?” Raph asked, on edge. This sent the brothers into a panicked search. Where could he have run off to during the battle? Mikey looked in the alley, Leo in some other streets. The relative darkness of the night would have obscured him… wondering off? Fighting someone else somewhere close? kidnapped?

“Guys, come here, quick!”

9:32 PM

It was Raph. He had found Donnie, or a miniaturized version of himself at the base of the nearest streetlamp, shivering and standing at a mere 2 inches. It was certainly a sight, their brother who was previously tall being the size of a grape and having to look straight up to see their brothers. Carefully, Raphael offered his hand as a platform for Donnie to step onto, which was accepted. Slowly, as to not give him massive vertigo, Donnie was lifted up to chin level and examined by the other turtles.

“Woah, dude, he’s so small!” Mikey marveled.

“So the whole ‘the beam lost power’ thing was a lie?” Raph demanded.

“No, Raph, it was a- a miscalculation. I truly believed what I said, but it turns out I was incorrect” Donatello defensively replied. He was somewhat nervous, being so high up and in the booming presence of his hotheaded brother, who was now like a building to him sizewise. Admittedly, he had been partially lying; he did think the beam hit him, but that it had lost enough power that it wouldn’t affect his height so drastically. In hindsight, though, the beam didn’t dim nearly that quickly, taking several seconds to dim in some earlier tests. Getting back to normal size was going to be rough.

“Hey, uh, guys? We’re not alone.”

9:35 PM

That bridge would have to be crossed when they got there, though, as there were more immediate threats. To their shock and horror, some Normans had managed to sneak up on them. They had been distracted for just long enough to give the Krang time to locate and thoroughly surround the ninja reptiles.

“If the turtles do not hand over the tiny one to Krang, prepare to die!” One of the slimy little blobs yelled.

So, you’re holding your tiny brother, and all of a sudden surrounded by a bunch of murderous mechs with the sole purpose of taking said tiny brother and then slaughtering the rest of you. What do you do? Any of the following are viable: run away, or keep your brother close and kick some shell; flight or fight. If you’re choosing to fight, just strap the tiny bro into a strap or a holster. These are all regular reactions, something that would be enacted without a word or thought to anyone or anything, things that would be considered “acceptable.”

*wwop*

9:36

That was the noise of someone’s mouth clicking and a bubble of clear saliva popping. Strange, as that didn’t seem like any of the regular reactions. As Donnie felt his shell pinched and his form being dragged upward, it became clear: we’re getting The Irregular Reaction.

Looking down, a red tongue had flopped out like a rug being rolled out, encapsulated by shiny sharp teeth, two of which were pointed into fangs, and pink gums. In the night, he couldn’t see much farther, than some tendrils of saliva near the center of the maw. He could, though, feel the hot, humid breath eminating from below, and hear said breaths. (What we need are mints, darling, mints)

The feeling that was terrifying, though, were the overriding cool drafts as Donnie fell towards the darkness, each second filled with pounding in his ears. After an eternity, with a splat he landed on the fleshy tongue and was rolled back in the humid mouth. He only had time to take a quick look out: his view of the outside world, framed by teeth, until a quick click enshrouded him in darkness.

Like a dog, the tongue lathered him right up in this disgusting liquid, swishing him from cheek to cheek as lubrication of sorts. He snickered internally at the thought of Raph looking like a chipmunk doing that. The organ seemed to struggle moving him farther in, curling upward to try and roll him back, a strange sensation for them both. As in traditional Raph impatience, the world shifted diagonally, just enough for Donnie to start slipping down the slide into the hole below him. He tried clawing up, but it was futile. A threshold was crossed, and a squicky wet sound rang in his ears as he was dragged farther down.

Mikey could only look on in awe, Leo in horror, as Raph’s throat muscles flexed inward and a slight bulge appeared as he swallowed. Raph gagged and thumped his chest to work the irregular form down, swallowing some saliva to assist.

“Dude, that was rad!” Mikey yelled.

“Raph, you could get him killed!” Leo shouted in a more serious tone.

“Relax, dude, Donnie’s being stored. He’ll be fine until we kick these guys’ asses” Raph retorted, which instigated the Normans to fire upon them.

Meanwhile, Donatello’s form was squeezed by an anaconda called esophagus muscles, sliding him down more rhythmically. Bassy thumping pounded in his ears from the heart close by, and he plopped into a bile puddle directly on his shell, now within the confines of the organ known as the stomach. Now obviously, science and chemistry can be a bit smelly. Certain things like sulfurs and thioacetones were known to spread like a disease throughout their small sewer bunker. But this place was different. The bacteria that lived inside the belly secreted some truly sickly stenches. Not to mention mostly digested blobs of what was once pepperoni pizza filling the bile puddle.

Donnie threw up a bit in his mouth, but had to suck it up since he knew he’d be here a while. From his bag, he grabbed an LED lantern that provided enough just enough light to see his immediate surroundings. He could make out the wrinkly structure of the floor below him and the walls surrounding him, the foamy mucus higher up. And those pizza blobs, he tried to analyze what ingredients had been, though the thorough destruction from Raphael’s chewing made this a very difficult step. Sights are only one other sense. The sounds of the What a truly fascinating place. A notebook apparated from the bag and allowed Donnie to take notes on his experience. The first creature to be swallowed alive and (hopefully) return to tell the tale. This would be a breakthrough in the realms of science if he could ever publish it. If because turtles and publishing don’t mix quite well.

A bit of butt-kicking usually did cronies good, as the Normans discovered. What was interesting, though, was Donatello’s situation. Every time Raphael dashed towards a Norman with his sai, Donnie felt like he was in a Bugatti going down a drag strip. A kick? It created a lurch sent both Donnie bouncing backwards and a sickly sensation to Raphael’s head. A shot to the stomach? Right. Out.

The remaining pizza from Donnie’s gastrointestinal tract was struggling to stay in its place, a near-identical but smaller copy of the guts Donnie resided in. It was a thought that popped into Donnie’s mind, a curious one about how this was the circumstance inside his own stomach: food churning, bile and acids working away blobs, and wrinkly surfaces with foamy mucus, of course just without a tiny brother stuck inside.

9:40 PM

“Jeez, that was a tough one,” Mikey sighed.

“Yep. Now we can worry about what’s important: Donnie.” Leo stared at Raph

“Uh- of course. Yeah. Only issue is, how do we get him out?”

“I think that vomiting would be the most straightforward way,” Donnie yelled, his voice muffled from the layers of skin and shell, his first time addressing the world outside from within.

“Ugh, I just ate! I’ll be hungry!”

“Well, Raph, there’s still a little bit left for once you get Donnie out. We might as well do it here so that we can try to keep this from Master Splinter,” Leo reasoned, knowing full well that Splinter would somehow, someway, figure out what had really transpired and give Raphael an admittedly somewhat deserved lecture about recklessness. It would be far from his first, and wouldn’t be his last.

“Fine.”

Raphael found a broken bowl on the street in front of an apartment complex and decided to use this as a catch for Donnie. With no other way, he took a deep breath and shoved his hand down his throat. He gagged, but nothing really happened. Another deep breath and another plunge with his now slime-covered fist did the trick, sending up a fluid comprised of digested pizza and, on the first try no less, containing his shrunken brother. With a water bottle, Donnie was showered with lukewarm water that ushered away the fluids enveloping his form.

“You good, Donnie?” Raph inquired.

“I’ve been better,” Donnie replied, “are you gonna be okay?”

“Uggh… yeah. Forget what I said a second ago; I lost my appetite.”

Was this going to deter Raphael from pizza consumption? Maybe for a day, but certainly not forever. The boy’s gotta eat something! Just not his brother preferably. Anyways… it’s 11:22 and I’ve been trying to writing this for 3 weeks, let’s wrap up.

9:50 PM

The boys make it back to their home, tiny brother in tow. Splinter obviously noticed their tiny brothers and requests the story. When told, the lecture alluded to before happened. Donnie, with the help of Leonardo (although all he did was assemble what he was told), was able to reverse the machine’s flow, causing a mini explosion that reverted his size to his original stature. With a long night finally ceased, the boys went off to their bedroom and fell fast asleep, ready to reenergize for their training session the next morning.

And obviously, for the sake of preventing another situation like this, shrinking machines were banned from the household indefinitely.

I promise the TMNT 2012 vore fic is on its way. I’ve been quite busy these past few weeks, but the story is around… let’s say 75% done. My hope is to have it published today or tomorrow.

I’ve actually had the Wattpad cover done since before I started writing, because for some reason I actually planned this out somewhat beforehand. I don’t usually show them off here because they just serve the purpose of being a cover with the story name, author name, and pred-of-the-(metaphorical)week, but F it.

I’m not drawing covers because I don’t do color. Sorry!

Need Sfw vore fics recommendations, doesn't matter if original or fanfic.

Preferably g/t :3

(reblog this if you're a sfw vore writer btw I wanna meet y'all)

The following short ramble has no name and was published last night out of nowhere.

“Come on, bro, eat us!”

Being a predator in a school as prestigious as Hogwarts has its benefits. You could integrate with prey easier and protect your friends, good stuff. It’s when your friends find out about the storage stomach that things go wrong. Suddenly, they discover a shrinking spell and want you to swallow them. Why? Because studying blows and their teenage hormones block out the other things they could do for the sake of clout and “W Rizz”.

So here you are, your predator cravings on fucking fire and your friends wanting stored, despite you not wanting to get caught and lose more points for Hufflepuff than yesterday. Peer pressure wins, and you give in.

One by one, you slip each friend in, cover them with saliva, and take a gulp, sending them down to storage. Your finger tracks them from the throat to the collarbone. Once they’re down, they celebrate, moving so much you wanna hurl.

But hey, you did what they wanted, and now you’re on their good list again.

You need new friends.

Demotivation has arrived at the tefifonconnoisseur house, and while I am currently in the process of writing a fic involving some… turtles, I’ve been writing much less, maybe 2 paragraphs a day. That’ll be out sometime in September at this rate.

In the meantime, if you have a story request, chances are I’ll be more motivated to write for that, given that I’d actually have motivation to not keep you on the hook forever. If not, that’s okay; my creative writing class should keep my writing consistent for the semester.

See you again soon!

I guess I’ll do an ask game lol. Have fun!

um um um vore ask game I guess?

NSFW DNI, EVERYONE ELSE FREE TO USE AS YOU WISH

🗓️ When did you discover you had an interest in vore?

📖 How did you discover you had an interest in vore?

🐁 How do you align yourself? (Pred, prey, switch, observer, etc?)

👾 What characters do you consider pred/prey crushes?

❤️ What drew you to vore?

🧸 Do you see vore as a source of comfort?

🦷 Favorite tropes?

🫠 Opinion on digestion?

🧛 Favorite species/type of pred?

🍛 Favorite flavor for prey?

🫀 What are some weird pred anatomy features you like?

📕 What’s a canon vore story in a piece of published media you like?

✍️ Fandom or OC?

🎭 Ideal pred/prey personality?

💗 Favorite trope?

❤️‍🩹 LEAST favorite trope?

Have fun!

TF2 Engineer Vore - Armo’s Destimulation Station

This is the last story that was published before I set up this Tumblr, so I’ve effectively cleared out the back catalog for Tumblr (not for Reddit yet; just created a new SFW writing subreddit lol). This story was originally published on July 19th, 2024, and was requested by the same person who requested the Demoman vore story (which I’m linking here since while you don’t really have to have background info, it would probably be useful even though I contradicted myself in this story lol: https://www.tumblr.com/tefifonconnoisseur/757012614937296896/armos-tale-of-tomfoolery-demoman-vore)

I was asked to have Armo have a sensory overload and that being the inciting incident for the nomming, and so I obliged, doing my best to describe it with the requester’s description, but I don’t personally have sensory overloads so I apologize if my description is inaccurate or misleading. Also, if that would trigger you, please feel free to skip this one out and read something else.

As previously, this story also contains swearing, but maybe not as much Scout hate this time?

Ah, Armo.

The Armorer, as their class denotes them, was an excellent teammate on Blue. Their job consisted of stealing ammo from Red, giving it to Blue, and making distractions for a higher kill count for the team. Their shorter stature made them harder to spot and notice, which made them the perfect choice for this position. As long as they had their headphones, they could handle the stress of the position.

Now, when we say shorter stature, we mean around 3 inches tall, or the perfect height to slide into pockets. This wasn’t the result of some freak experiment, nor a lab accident, but rather how they were born. See, Armo was the Blue HQ’s resident borrower back in the day. They borrowed things like small food morsels, magnets, and other tiny things they wouldn’t have to return. What they were sloppy at was that food part, as they were discovered in a peanut tin by the Blue Spy. When the team came over to investigate, it was the Engineer suggested making them a team member.

The Engineer? Engie himself? Yes. The Engineer. A medium-height, sturdier man with goggles, a Southern accent, a good-natured personality, and some pretty good knowledge thought that their size and experience “borrowing” would make the stealing of things from Red a cakewalk. The Blue Spy scoffed at this and made arguments against this, but he was unsuccessful in this.

However, after so long, several VERY important things happened. These things happened as of a result of an incident where the Demoman had to save Armo from being eaten by eating them himself.

First, Armo was reassigned, gaining the position of Engineering Assistant, which meant he was to work directly with Engie (as he was affectionately yet platonically called). That meant being directly with the protection of someone at all times, which while an annoyance for the Armo, was understandable. Had it been anyone but the chicken-like Red Scout, things would have gone differently for the worse.

Second, Armo became a little more comfortable with being swallowed by his teammates, as odd as that is. There was a sense of protection and peace with it, which helped during some overloads. While most teammates respectfully declined, the Engineer eventually became more comfortable as well. Both of these things were kept exclusive to the headquarters for the sake of Armo. This was until this story, where at the demand of The Administrator, Armo was forced to continue this role on the battlefield.

One other thing we need to mention is the headphone thing mentioned in the beginning. See, Armo was sensitive to loud and constant noises, and their headphones protected them from a sensory overload, which would hinder both themselves and their missions.

Typical day, typical battle against Red for the honor of some dead guys. As you’d expect, Armo stayed with Engie once the battle started and they went off to set up some machine guns. Armo had their headphones on and also assisted, turning nuts and bolting bolts, soldering wires and welding plates as needed. It was going well so far, with each gun being set up and some Red folks getting shot at. However, the third one wasn’t made quite well. The holes for the bolts were slightly too small, so it took some hard wrench twisting to secure. Armo attempted to twist one higher up, but their size and strength weren’t quite enough to secure a bolt that needed this much. So, in a move that was in hindsight unwise, they climbed up onto the wrench and started jumping on it. Their jumps became harder and harder as they became less and less patient. They were running out of time to set this up before it would be needed to shoot out some punks. They jumped up, and landed back down with just enough force to turn the bolt with a loud and prolonged squeaking sound, which sent the Armorer flying onto a cloth being used to hold things, and their headphones down a storm drain.

Suddenly, all of the noise, the gunshots, the yelling, the generators powering this craphole warehouse, the noise the CFL lights made, all of it shot straight through their ears into their brain, slicing it like a knife and causing an overwhelming feeling, then sinking into their chest and causing them pain. Their ears just kept ringing and being filled and Armo just wanted to take them off, to stop all of this. On the cloth, they just rolled up and covered their ears tight and let some tears stream, and all focus was lost.

One of the things that makes them a great duo is that Engineer is aware of Armo’s susceptibility to loud and constant noise and could tell that it was BAD. This place echoed like crazy, no wonder it was loud. He looked down once he finished a bolt and his goggled eyes were shocked to see the Armorer without their headphones just suffering. Thankfully, the Engineer is good at staying calm. He gently scooped up the Armorer into his palm and brought them close to his face.

At least for now, not a word was spoken between the two individuals, as the outcome of this situation was clear; this wasn’t a foreign affair. The Armo needed a safe, quiet space to reset their head, and the Engineer understood the assignment.

Engineer popped open their mouth and placed Armo onto his cushion of a tongue carefully in the way one places a wine glass onto a table. Next, he clicked his mouth shut. Armo was still overwhelmed as they were slathered in saliva in preparation for the trip to the stomach, but was aware of what was happening and was somewhat relieved somewhere in their head that the deafening sensation would soon cease. The shuffling of them via the tongue was key for the climactic step: with Armo now at the back of the tongue, Engineer took just one deep gulp, and Armo was sent straight down, down into the esophagus towards the core.

Now, those noises that had been Armo’s hell were replaced with the rhythmic heartbeat from Engineer, going at a decent pace despite the stress of war. Rhythmic too was the peristalsis, which after 9 seconds took them into the core of the digestive system: the stomach. This place, unlike the bitchass warehouse, was relieving of the senses. It was dark and relatively quiet, which enabled Armo to slowly cool down and destimulate. While not immediately stated, the quiet,

“Thank you for this”

Armo said was all the Engineer needed to hear so their stress wouldn’t elevate. It was therapeutic for the Engineer and the Armo, Armo obviously destimulating but also Engineer protecting and nurturing Armo in a place where they couldn’t be found. It was heaven.

Oh wait, where were we again? Oh yeah, a war battlefield, right. Yeah, this platonic bonding moment was doomed to be a very short-term moment, as the Engineer had to get back to work using turrets to obliterate Red’s forces. Quickly, he finished the machine gun the two had been working on and used it to destroy an approaching Heavy. Shots fired like lyrics from Rap God, and he was down. The shots, while muffled for Armo, were loud for quite literally everybody else, which compromised this position. Thankfully, with a tip from the Blue Scout, the Soldier was right behind them for a huge shootout.

. . .

Admittedly, that scene is not one Armo was concerned with at the moment, or was even aware of, as they had fallen asleep against the stomach wall, their mind clearing out all of the stress that the noise had caused and giving them a mental break, at least for the moment. Once they woke up, it would be in the hands of Engineer when they were released from within him. It didn’t even matter if the Engineer was killed; the respawn machines would respawn Armo with him. But until that moment arrived, until they had to get back to work, back to the team who would try not to acknowledge anything, to the Engineer who would be working on new headphones, they laid unconscious and at peace, and all was well.

The Atom Meister Saga - Movie Sonic Vore Story

This was originally posted in 5 parts to Wattpad from May 28th to June 5th of 2024. One special part of this release is that I’m restoring a cut line that Wattpad didn’t like and it took an entire week to figure out. It was rewritten several times in between fixing that. While I had thought I had lost the line, I realized that it had only been edited out of the Wattpad editor and not the original document, so it was preserved.

This contains safe, soft, semi-willing vore of Movie Sonic, who is a minor. If that’s a problem, please scroll past. Anyways, enjoy! Or don’t, just please don’t turn me into a human candle.

Morning in the Wachowski household: stressful speed on the borderline of uncontrollable chaos. Just waking up Knuckles brings risk of a broken nose. Every dynamic of the children: Sonic’s teenage spirit, Tails’s cautiousness and curiosity, and Knuckles’s warrior instinct makes for an interesting combination, one Tom and Maddie, while they love it, would admit it’s quite stressful. This morning, though, while as typical as normal, was the start of an… eventful day.

While the humans in the home were getting ready for work, breakfast begins. The following is a list of the people at the table and their behaviors: Tom was eating, though not at the table because he’s cleaning up some new debris found under the couch from Knuckles’s arrival, Maddie was eating while typing a document, our friend Sonic was eating as fast as possible in order to start his day, Tails was taking detailed notes on the scenery outside, and Knuckles… oh Knuckles. He was busy treating each piece of cereal like an opponent to be vanquished in a quick battle loudly, then eating it. Each. Individual. Piece. It was quite the spectacle.

When asked about this, he claimed he’s “practicing” for his next great battle, someone completely in character for him. A warrior first and friend second, he remains prepared for his next great adventure. An adventure that despite the short time he’s had to take a break, was an inevitability. An adventure that probably wouldn’t contain tiny warriors as his practice method would imply. Would it have, though, if the Echidnas had still been battling others? We can’t say for certain if any if how many people had gone through his system (reminder: they don’t have stomachs).

As Maddie left for work, Sonic prepared himself for a morning out with Tom before he goes to do something important that afternoon (we aren’t cleared to know what). Just the two of them, father and son, out exploring Green Hills. It had been a minute since they had had the opportunity with Tails and Knuckles having their time with Tom, adjusting to their new life in Green Hills. The two newer members of the household hadn’t been on Earth for 13 years and required some time to settle in and make themselves home (more Tails than Knuckles). However, now that it had been a moment since Robotnik’s second defeat and disappearance, Sonic was restless, ready to explore the world. Unfortunately, at the moment, G.U.N. still required them to stay in Green Hill, so that’s what they could do.

“So when we heading out?” Sonic asked Tom. Tom was currently cleaning up a spill from the ground.

“Whenever I get done cleaning” Tom replies. He’s been up since 6 in the morning cleaning up some of the remnants from the battle that had taken place in the house. It’s quite the task. The hole in the wall is covered in tarp in a vain attempt at insulating. Scraps of glass still hide under some of the furniture, usually discovered the hard way with some of it impaling into a hand. Despite this, though, the house remains mostly clean thanks to hard work.

So while Tom is busy cleaning, Sonic has to kill the time. His item of interest? The machine Tails has been working on in the backyard.

“Whatcha got here, buddy?” Sonic inquired of his fox buddy, who’s busy welding two panels together at a 90° angle, seemingly to make a box.

“Well, it’s a prototype of some atom reduction technology I was working on before I had to restart once I came here to help you. Basically, it uses Oganesson-Tetrahydride to reduce the size in each individual atom rapidly to its minimum possible size” Tails replied.

“Dunno what that means, but it sounds cool!” Sonic said, confused from the big words that mean nothing to him.

“It’s basically a shrink ray” Tails replied, less enthusiastically but still in a positive tone.

“Woah awesome! It’s just like “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids!”

“Yes, but hopefully I don’t end up shrinking anyone. I just plan on shrinking objects for ease of transport. ” Tails responded. Sonic showed him the movie recently, although he didn’t care for it nearly as much as its sequel with completely different actors, “Honey, I Shrunk Ourselves”, much to the dismay of Sonic.

“What would it do to a person though?” Sonic curiously thought aloud.

“Thanks to its technology, they would have increased strength and resilience to withstand forces harming it, although not enough to withstand the force of the average person, so it wouldn’t end well unless they could be restored”.

“Coooooool”, Sonic said. He wants to ask if he could perhaps help test it, be involved in something so futuristic. But he knows that the only thing Tails would let him do is watch, which was basically denial but letting him off easy. So he doesn’t bother. Instead, he goes to find Knuckles on a hill somewhat far from the house, chopping wood in half.

“Whatcha doing here, Knux?” Sonic asked in a similar way to the way he asked Tails about his invention.

“Chopping these logs with my hands so that I don’t lose the strength during battle. It is merely a warmup for my morning routine”

“Worried you’re gonna tire yourself out?” Sonic wondered, somewhat concerned but not really.

“An echidna is never tired” Knuckles replied. He is most likely not exaggerating, Sonic thinks. He sat and watched Knuckles chop away, knowing full well that Knuckles would have perfect timing and precision each time. It was somewhat relaxing in a way, the sheer perfection he presented in each chop. It was akin to a chef’s perfect slicing of an onion and syncopated depositing into a pot of a soup, done with precision that many regular mortals aspire to achieve just once in their lives.

But the thing about relaxation is that it is easily interrupted, as a helicopter hovered by the house, with masked men attempting to hook the shrink ray up to it. The boys rushed over to fight off the baddies, with Tom outside, looking at the baddies in frustration.

“SCPD, HANDS UP!” He said, holding up a taser. A taser, by the way, that he had forgotten to charge.

Due to the sheer number of baddies, Sonic and Knuckles are unable to get to the house before they lift the machine, but not just that. They grab Tom and drag him into the chopper door. Tails had not been seized, but he was on the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

Sonic jumps into action. “You guys catch up. I’m going to stay with the chopper, and Tails, you track me and head this way in that ATV”. With that, Sonic dashed toward the helicopter.

The ATV, though, sitting on the side of the house was older and hadn’t been run in a minute, so it would take the other two boys a minute to get it to fire. But nevermind that, we need to focus on Sonic. Sonic stayed behind the chopper, following it through the bushy forest, not going directly below it for fear of being spotted. He weaves narrowly between trees when one was coming up, sometimes being whacked with a twig or two. He made his way next to the freeway after a minute, and followed for about 15 minutes until the helicopter began to land at a helipad, at which point he took cover. And where was he at exactly? Disruption Corporation.

Ah yes, Disruption Corporation: A monopoly known for filth and chaos. They've purchased about every terrible company you can think of: Zonophone, Shell, some remnants of Standard Oil, etc etc. They also have some more relevant lore which we'll go over really quick.

Doctor Robotnik, who technically never existed according to the government, was a man who was despised by his coworkers. They knew of his power-hungry mindset and the motives behind his work. Despite this, for most of his insane antics, his bosses funded his every move. When he was working on a mind-control laser? Tax payer money. The robots and the trucks and most of his cool gadgets? Also given to him from taxpayer money. It's not like they did nothing about it; they complained to HR, the higher-ups, anyone with authority to get rid of him. Sadly, their pleas fell on deaf ears.

This was up until he was chosen to investigate a massive EMP that wiped the Northeast US power grid of all of its energy despite his lack of qualification and the complaints of his associates. Robotnik received some funding, but when he discovered Sonic's leftover quill and wanted to explore its power, he was refused funding. See, his assignment was to find out what caused the EMP, not to harvest quill power. That would be a job that the powers above him would dive into for the purpose of renewable energy. They knew that if he received that funding, the quill was his, not theirs. That would be an investment they wouldn't make back. With a lack of funding, he couldn't do whatever he wish, which infuriated him. Luckily, his employee Agent Stone had some connections to help him cause disruption. Yes indeed, Robotnik's entire manhunt for Sonic's power was propelled by Disruption Corporation. All of the antics with the robots on the highway, that cool-ass jet, his analyzers and cracking of Sonic's code? Received the stamp of approval from DC.

Now, you are allowed to forget all of that. It truly doesn't matter. Neither parties know each other, really. DC never got any status updates of Sonic, and Sonic has no reason to know about them either. The question really, is-

"What do they want with that shrink ray?"

As Sonic was behind the dumpster, watching the helicopter sit there, he had to wonder what was going on behind the scenes. There must be a reason for this. And why did they grab Tom and not Tails, its actual inventor? All were good questions, but none mattered at the moment because Sonic was now paying closer attention as the masked men got out and took a handcuffed Tom with them into a door with a passcode lock. As soon as the coast was clear, Sonic dashed over to the door. The passcode had 9 different numbers. So many different combinations, what could it be? Kicking the door was right out; solid steel 6 inches thick. What was one to do?

As Sonic stared at the buttons, a very faint detail came to him that perhaps wasn't that important: the first 5 numbers were slightly faded. He tried 25431, nope. 45123, nah. 34521, also no. Peculiar. You wouldn't think...

"Aha!" Sonic shouted as the door opened. Indeed, the passcode was 12345, the kind of passcode an idiot would have on their luggage. He wondered why a massive building with malicious intent would have such an easy passcode? Did they want people to come in?

The sight of 6 armed men facing him with guns raised answered that last question for him. Indeed, it was a setup. The door was heavily guarded from the inside and that's where the soldiers all wait out at: the reception area. Immediately, someone shot first. Sonic dashed to the right, narrowly missing the bullet fired and kicking the shortest guard square in the ankles. The fall managed to knock him out. Despite all of the shots fired, Sonic managed to outrun them all. For the second guard, a spin dash knocked 3 in a line over like bowling pins. The last two, though, would be harder to deal with. They were also somewhat quick, managing to avoid Sonic's attacks. A punch here, a shot there, some kicks were exchanged too. As is the issue with guns, though, the ammo eventually ran out. The moment it took them to realize that was enough for Sonic to push them into the open elevator shaft, sending them falling, falling, falling until they were out of view.

Now that the assault had been vanquished, he took just a moment to look around. We weren't kidding when we said reception area. It was literally a hospital reception area, with an elderly woman with glasses doubling as a pearl necklace sitting there.

"Excuse me, miss, but would you happened to have seen a man in a leather jacket with handcuffs pass by here?"

We aren't sure what the woman was thinking, but her response indicated that she didn't see him as a threat, despite the carnage that just occurred.

"Well dear, they took him to the lab, last door on the right."

Sonic took her directions as a sign and went down the hallway to said door. Sadly, it wouldn't be so easy, as she forgot to mention the massive mirror maze inside this room. As he made his way through, twisting around bends and down halls, he realized with a massive bop on his nose from a wall that he's have to take his time here. Every bend he thought was safe ended up with a dead end, and some more dubious-looking paths were just fine.

Bop, dash, bop, dash, dash, bop.

After an excruciating trip, he made it to the lab, where Tom was sitting on a stool.

"Tom!" Sonic yelled, attracting the attention of every doctor in there, including a large man in a black lab coat and white leather gloves. His eyes were small and blue, his hair covered by a black felt fedora, his legs short and thick but his core thicker and taller.

"Well well well, if it isn't the blue furry son of the leather man! I'm glad you're here; you're about to witness my new invention!"

It was Tails's machine. The panels on the large aluminum box hadn't been filled in, it still had Tails's bag on the neck of the laser bit that looked as cartoonish as you think it did. He didn't even try to make it different.

"Hey, that's not yours! It's my friend's!" This was reciprocated with a slap so hard, it sent him onto the ground.

"Way to ruin my fun, jerkwagon. Fine, I found this machine via drone footage, and I knew I had to have it. I sent my boys to grab it and its inventor, although they seem to have grabbed the human instead of the fox, because they're imbeciles. At least they got the machine. Speaking of, look at it! So shiny, so avant-garde (it was not), so... unfinished. I'll call it "Mr. Atomizer", like my Mr. Coffee. In fact, it's inspired my new name, the Atom Meister! Speaking of atoms, this "Tom" fellow, who I didn't want but I guess we get anyway, will have his reduced to a miniature size, shrinking him too. Have fun!"

"No!" Sonic yelled. Sadly, he was restrained by two of the bulking men who grabbed Tom with the aid of muscles. He started kicking, but his low-power charge was no match for these guys. His eyes started to turn electric blue as he charged his power, but too little too late.

"Once I pull this lever, he will be my tiny little experiment to deal with as I choose. The question is what all can I do with him? We'll figure it out momentarily."

"You can't! I need him!"

As if the Atom Meister would care. It was too late; the machine was too exciting for him not to deal with. With the click of a light switch and a giggle, a loud humming sound echoed onto the walls and bounced everywhere. Sonic could only look at Tom momentarily as all went white and then all went black.

As Sonic flicked his eyes open, he saw sideways concrete. No, that can’t be right. It wasn’t; he was laying on concrete. He had been locked up in a little jail cell, with a door and wooden bench hooked to the wall by chains and everything. The ceiling had growths of moss, and the entire place was bitter and cold. Not as bitter as what he was about to be served, though, as right outside of his cell he saw none other than Tom, but Sonic’s worst nightmare had come true: he was in a tupperware with tiny holes poked in the top like an insect captured by a curious child. Sonic then processed the situation; he had failed to stop the Atom Meister from shrinking Tom, and now he had Tom in a plastic cell where he was helpless. At this time, the Atom Meister walked by and took a look at Sonic. His face had lost any energy or positivity. In the doctor’s typical fashion, he chose this time to make Sonic feel worse about his loss in the battle for Tom, to just pour a bit of salt into the wound if you will.

“How disappointing. You failed to save your beloved father, and now here he is in the kind of container you put leftovers in. Despite all of the foolishness involved on my end, you still failed on yours. How? Because you are a failure, a disappointment. I don’t even know why you came. Should’ve brought friends or something. You know what? I should let you reflect on this, say your goodbyes to Tom. I’ll put him” he scooted the tupperware closer to Sonic but not quite within reach, “right here. Have fun!” He walked away, cackling and mumbling about Sonic under his breath for dramatic effect.

Tom felt horrible. His son had been humiliated and now he was in a vulnerable position. As Sonic hung his head and began to sob, Tom said,

“Don’t worry, Sonic. We can still get out of this. Don’t lose hope. That’s what the Atom Meister wants; he wants you to lose hope. He wants to crush you emotionally. You have to find some hope, some confidence. Don’t let this be the end.”

Sonic let his words circle in his head for a while. The Meister’s words battled Tom’s for headspace and focus, fighting over who would win over Sonic’s head. Eventually, Tom’s beat out the Meister’s and he looked up, a tear streaming down his face.

“You’re right. I can’t give up. We have to stop him abd whatever he’s planning” he said, his voice somewhat broken but more hopeful than sorrowful, “let’s do this”.

But since they had no escape path, a plan they had not. The cell had no windows, the door couldn’t be open nor kicked down. And even if they could, there were also security cameras; any plan would be foiled quickly. There had to be some silver lining, something lacking that would enable them to do SOMETHING.

That silver lining was made clear to Tom very quickly; there were no security guards at the cells, only at the end of the hall. They weren’t interested in keeping the prisoners in, but rather their accomplices out. When the ventilation started and a loud hum filled the hall, Tom slammed his minuscule body against the plastic wall of the Tupperware. The push caused Tom to slide closer to Sonic, but not quite close enough. He ran to the back and then forward and slammed the wall again with his shoulder, which gave him just enough momentum to where Sonic could reach the Tupperware. Sonic, realizing what Tom did, used two fingers to hold open the lid as Tom jumped and climbed over the lip of the Tupperware wall, then falling onto the concrete floor, making a light slap sound. Sitting back up, he quickly slid through the bars and hopped into the palm of Sonic, who then lifted him up slowly to his face. Sonic then turned around so that the cameras couldn’t see Tom anymore.

“Well, now what? I can’t hide you anywhere, and if the Atom Missy comes over and finds you out, we’ll be in huge trouble!” Sonic asked frantically, his eyes darting around in search of a sign of danger. Then, the sound of a spin dash emulated from the direction of the guards, giving Sonic newfound relief, relief that they had an exit plan.

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

Alright, we know that came out of nowhere, and we apologize. Let’s back up and see what happened:

Tails and Knuckles, if you recall, had been left behind to ride the ATV to Sonic’s location that Tails was tracking with his GPS, but it wasn’t running at the moment. The engine was seemingly locked up, and turning over the key seemingly did nothing.

“Knuckles, can you see if you can remove the engine for me?” Tails asked, his tone of voice indicating a plan.

“Alright” Knuckles responded in a monotone voice, walking over to where the ATV sat. Bending down, he grabbed both sides of the engine with his meaty claws and ripping it right out, leaving behind scraps of pipes. Quickly, Tails went to the scrap of parts he had been using to make the atom reducer, and picked out two parts: a large washing machine motor and some wires from a VCR. With some soldering, welding, and budging, within the hour they had replaced the engine with the motor. The only issue was battery life. Hopefully, they could make it.

One thing though we have haven’t addressed is why Tails didn’t just fly Knuckles there, and here’s where we mention something important: Tails scratched one of his tails the previous week. The atom reducer required some wire cutting with a knife, and while Tails cut some wires, his tail crept towards it unknowing and managed to get cut, so flight was unavailable when it was needed most.

But they didn’t need it. The ATV rolled and therefore with Knuckles at the helm and Tails tracking their destination, they drove it into the woods rolled on through the woods, bumping and bouncing until they made their way to the highway. At the 2-lane highway, a blue Ford got stuck behind them, as did the red Dodge behind him, and then the next car, and then the next car, and the next car and the next car. The afternoon was filled with the sounds of honking and angry shouting of obscenities from drivers slowly but surely making their way to their destinations. Knuckles drove somewhat erratically, so Tails had to hold on to his shoulders tight as to not fall off. As the road stretched before them, Tails and Knuckles began to get impatient and they considered the task impossible. Thankfully, around then is when they pulled to the right into the road that lead them to Disruption Corporation. Hopping off, they ran towards the door, which had never been closed behind Sonic, and found some soldiers waiting. Knuckles made quick work of them, such quick work that details are unnecessary; just know they got pummeled. Making their way towards the elevator, they pressed every basement level in search of Sonic.

The first level lead to a sauna, the second to a bar, but the third lead to the prison cells and 2 guards who spotted them and dashed towards them. Knuckles knocked the lights out of the first with a nice punch while Tails wrapped his good tail around the second’s leg and swang him into the wall.

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

We caught up, let’s head back to the other perspective. Sonic and Tom were pleased to see the other boys at their aid. Knuckles ripped the door straight off the cell and the two entered.

“Oh no, they used my invention on Tom. Hopefully we can fix this once we get home!” Tails remarked.

“It’s alright. Glad you guys made it!” Sonic replied.

“Now we need to get me out of here and dash home so we can plan our next steps” Tom interjected. At the moment, transport seemed difficult, but Sonic planned on just holding Tom the entire way. He did it for the turtle, so Tom would be fine. As long as they weren’t interrupted, storage would be unnecessary. Just then, they were interrupted by the footsteps down the hall. The Atom Meister was on his way.

“Sonic!” Tails whispered. “We need to hide Tom so he can’t take him back!”

But a quick look around revealed no hiding spot, so Sonic froze. The footsteps echoed louder and louder in his head, until eventually he came up with a plan. He knew neither him nor Tom would enjoy this, but it was seemingly his only option. Remembering Tails’s comments about what the shrinking would do to a human, he quickly uttered his plan.

“Tom, this is going to sound really gross, but to get you out, I need to… swallow you” he whispered. Tom shook his head in denial.

“It’s the only hiding place we have, and the shrinking should keep you safe!” Tails added, trying to help convince Tom, who clearly was shocked. This was insane! The thought of being stored within the guts of another living being, let alone his SON, was one that could only come from the mind of a lunatic, of a hungry person. The option presented was to be eaten, like food, hidden away with no further thought. And yet, right here, right now, it was somehow necessary to be eaten, a singular solution to a messy problem. He had no time. In heavy reluctance, he agreed.

Sonic was also heavily conflicted about this, but he had no other choice besides being caught. Shakily, he opened his mouth and stuck his slimy tongue out in range for Tom to climb onto. The sight was something he never expected to see in his lifetime: the near-uncanny teeth shining in his face, the healthy pink of the mouth, and his throat, instinctually flexing in anticipation of its next meal. Placing his left hand upon the tongue, Tom somewhat recoiled but placed his right hand on too, with less recoil. He climbed his way onto the tongue and sat in the small pool of saliva that had formed. Slowly, Sonic clicked his mouth shut.

This was an odd sensation for both of them. For Tom, he was in the hot, humid, fleshy maw of someone so much bigger and more powerful than him. Every tongue twitch of both anticipation and fear was obvious and could be felt below him. For Sonic, he had a living, breathing thing on his tongue. Someone he trusted and had previously been cared for was now his responsibility and was entirely within his mercy. Despite the power split, Sonic took extreme care covering him in the slime, keeping Tom away from the teeth that could easily cut him. As the footsteps of the Atom Meister got closer, panic set in. Sonic quickly produced another pool of saliva, shuffled Tom back with his tongue, tilted his head and gulped, hard. A gasp emitted from Tails as he witnessed Sonic’s Adam’s apple move and realized that Sonic had just gulped Tom down with ease, the plan was in motion. Within, Tom yelled as he fell with the liquids headfirst into the flexing throat that gripped him and dragged him past the uvula and epiglottis down, down into the core of the hedgehog.

“How is this possible?!”

These were the words the Atom Meister asked in disbelief as he looked apon the scene in front of him: the tiny man he had imprisoned was nowhere to be seen, and the blue rodent was surrounded by other rodents, red and yellow. His guards had been knocked out.

“Honestly, I’m more embarrassed than angry, so I’ll offer mercy. Tell me where the tiny Tom went, and I won’t shrink you all and toss you into a wasp nest. Fair? I think so”

What he wasn’t aware of, though, was that Tom was right in front of him, just hidden away. As Tom slid down the esophagus, he contemplated his choices thus far. He had allowed Tails to make his atom reduction garbage, chosen to use the door closest to the home invaders, and where had this led him? To the innards of a blue alien hedgehog he had taken in. After what seemed like an eternity, the sphincter opened and he was dropped unceremoniously into the stomach.

This place sucked. It was a pitch black swamp filled with acid and the smell of death. The liquid was stagnant and chunky, which was just a nightmare really. Perhaps the worst part was the temperature: just unbearably hot and unliveable. This was what he imagined Texas felt like. At this moment, he’d preferred to be experimented on by the Atom Meister rather than be in this chamber of flesh and liquids, in the inner chamber where he didn’t belong.

The stomach itself didn’t recognize this, and let more acids seep in, acids that had no effect on the reduced atoms. Tom wondered if Sonic had been aware of this fact or if he had just recklessly risked his life, had eaten him without knowing if he would be treated as such by his body. The stomach churned around him, unaware it wasn’t doing anything worthwhile.

Meanwhile, the boys were obviously not about to reveal Tom’s hiding place. It would compromise everything.

“The location of the tiny man is a secret we intend to uphold” Knuckles told the Meister. The Meister rolled his eyes so hard he got somewhat dizzy.

“Figures. Welp, enjoy torture” he replied. “GUARDS! GRAB THESE FOOLS!”

Crickets. His entire security detail had been knocked out in these two battles. Perhaps he needed more, but at this rate, Disruption Corporation would have him sacked for his utter failure. Might as well spite them.

“Great. Welp, I’m losing my job. My career, my dignity, my life has been ruined because you three managed to sweep away my entire security detail. They’re-“

Two soldiers, limping, took this time to enter the scene, shooting a shot at Sonic who of course dodged it. Much to the dismay of the Atom Meister, who stood away rooting for them, this battle wouldn’t last long. The boys dashed out of the cell and beat the crap out of the two soldiers, Knuckles punching, Tails doing something meaningful, and Sonic quickly tying their belts together and around them to restrain them.

The Meister could only simply say, “Well color me impressed. Bye!” as he ran off to the stairs. Knuckles ran after him, dashing up the stairs and keeping up. The Meister had panic on his face and sweated harder with each quick step, doing everything his body would let him to get the hell out of Dodge. With determination in his eyes he strided long and hard, catching up with the Meister down the hallway and tackling him to the brown carpet like a football player. Sonic caught up with them and so did Tails. The three dragged his big body to the machine, where he was shrunk and imprisoned in the same Tupperware Tom resided in 10 minutes ago.

“You can’t do this to me! This was my invention and now you’re turning it against me!”

“Actually, sir, that’s my invention, and it was your thievery of my things that turned against you”

“THAT’S MEISTER TO YOU, YOU PETULANT ROACH!”

That though, as Tails pointed out, was a title that was given to someone who earned respect, which he certainly had not. Tails calling him sir was a courtesy, a nice gesture that was undeserved. Popping in now was Maddie. She checked Tom’s location and had found his icon in the middle of the woods.

“What on Earth is going on in here? Where’s Tom?” She asked, somewhat panicked.

“This man stole Tail’s atom reduction machine and kidnapped Tom so we had to get him and stop this guy from using it,” Sonic replied

“Okay, but where is Tom?”

Now this was a question Sonic couldn’t answer, his cheeks beginning to blush under his fur and stuttering.

“Uh-u-u-u”

“He’s in Sonic’s stomach for protection” Tails interjected. This was quite the surprise.

“WHAT? YOU ATE TOM? ALRIGHT, WE’RE HEADING HOME AND YOU’RE COUGHING HIM UP. LET’S GO!” She yelled, shocked.

The boys were unable to transport the machine back home, so Tails destroyed the parts, rendering it useless. Following this, the boys got into the car, suffering from a car ride.

“How could you do that? He could die!”

“Not the way my invention worked” Tails said in defense of Sonic.

“Great, but that’s also, like, extremely gross and disturbing, so not great. Let’s head home and take care of him” she replied, turning up the radio to indicate a desire for a silent car ride the rest of the way until they could get home and retrieve Tom.

Speaking of Tom, how’s he doing? Not great. He’s sitting on the edge of the stomach wall, closed fist under his chin. On the one hand, this is disgusting and he has things to do this afternoon which are going to be impacted by this unless he can take the world’s quickest shower, which he can’t with how much scrubbing he’s going to do. He’s covered in acid and chili dog residue and just so much stuff he doesn’t want to have on him. On the other hand, Sonic had saved him from the Atom Meister’s control, and God only knows where that could’ve gone. This was a hellhole, but a hellhole that kept him safe and secure from malicious no-good villains. He was making peace with this in a way. Besides, it kind of felt like a hot tub in a weird, not-as-good way. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as he thought. He can handle this. Maybe this was… a good thing?

He decided to scratch that last bit out of his mind, but like scratching out text with a single pen line, he was unable to fully do so.

Riding in a stomach sucks.

Who would’ve thought, right? But every little pothole, bump of the car, etc moved Sonic slightly, but tilted his stomach enough to where Tom was slipping and sliding around every once in a while like Eustace in the mouth of the Sand Whale. He was covered not only in stomach juices now, but the slime covering the sides. Sure, it was a safe method of transport, you didn’t have to be too concerned with injury or being spotted by onlookers, but it smelled like death and made you smell bad as a result. It’s like riding in a slip and slide but it’s 90° outside and instead of water, it’s foul acids. Just terrible for the rider.

But what about the horse? Sonic could feel this motion, and it made him feel sick with every movement of the car and Tom as a result. Maybe this would make him vomit Tom back up.

“Sonic, please try and wait until we get home. I just cleaned out the car” Maddie told Sonic, her voice calmer but still somewhat frantic. Can you blame her? Her husband had been eaten alive by their adopted son, was stewing in guts, and despite what Tails had told her about his safety, something was still nagging at her, trying to convince her of the contrary. Her adrenaline did more than just make her mind race, though; her driving somewhat suffered as well. While she attempted to maintain proper etiquette, at least one red light was ran and blinkers weren’t always activated in a timely manner. At the stop sign on Baker Street, she ended up having to slam her brakes as she had missed the stop sign. Silently scolding herself for being foolish. She took a right towards their street, relieved that they were almost home. Relived that soon, Tom would be safe and the boys wouldn’t be so stressed.

Maddie pulled into her driveway slowly as to not hit the trash cans. Once the car had eased to a halt, she shifted into park and pressed the start button on her car to shut it off, the pistons no longer firing and the fan slowing down towards silence. The boys, squished in the backseat, filed out, Sonic and Tails from their right, Knuckles from his left. Maddie stepped out after unbuckling and made her way towards Sonic, who was idly standing with his head tilted downward somewhat.

“Alright, you and I are headed to the kitchen sink”

Maddie gripped Sonic’s hand and the two made their way up the steps into the front door, with Tails and Knuckles behind. Making their way to the kitchen, Sonic stepped upon the step stool and peered down into the sink. Maddie, prepared, put the stopper into the garbage disposal to prevent Tom from going down there. If only Pat Kramer had been so fortunate, the entire third act of that movie wouldn’t have happened. Sonic took a second, puzzled at Maddie’s crossed arms next to him. It took him a minute to realize the expectation: Maddie wanted him to throw Tom back up, thereby releasing him from his fleshy cage. Taking a deep breath, he stuck his pointer and middle fingers down his throat, causing a heavy gag. Repeating the motion caused him to spit up some bile into the sink, but nothing major. Third times the charm? Taking yet another deep breath, he stuck those fingers down and out from the depths of his core came liquidy orange vomit, and directly in the middle of the splatter was Tom, even more grossed out than before, attempting to sit up but not stand just yet. He was decently dizzy from the sudden expulsion.

“That was the grossest thing I’ve ever done” Tom remarked nonchalantly.

“Tom! Are you alright?” Maddie asked.

“Yeah, just a bit freaked out and somewhat dizzy.

She leaned over Sonic, who was on his knees recuperating from the energy-heavy event, and turned on the water to just a sprinkle to wash Tom off. She gave him a drop of Dawn dish soap bubble and he used it to wash himself somewhat, scrubbing fully clothed due to the presence of children in the room. Once he wasn’t covered in any unclean liquids, she lifted him gently onto a hand towel, which he used to dry himself. Cleanliness was something he had dearly missed for the last 30 minutes, and he was happy to have it back.

He was unfortunately going to have to be late to work, but hopefully he wouldn’t be in too much trouble for it; he’d never been late once before. Sonic was still drained from vomiting, but he was glad that he wouldn’t have to swallow another living being anytime soon. The experience wasn’t as enjoyable as the movies had made it up to be. Tails and Knuckles were also glad to be back home and that they’d never have to drive that stupid ATV again.

Now, even with the resolution of the problem and everyone being happy with the end of the Atom Meister’s drama, there was still a glaring issue, something that hadn’t quite been addressed. Nobody really had a grasp on what, but it slowly seeped into their minds, filling their heads and choking out the relief. Slowly, everyone turned to Tails for a moment and after what felt like ages, Tom broke the pregnant silence, airing the thought everyone had been infected with.

“So uh, Tails, how do I get back to regular size?”

I’m not exactly at a good time to repost my Movie Sonic vore story from Wattpad, but I will once I get time today.

Also, just for my constructive criticism and improvement, why do you all love the Peanut Butter Toast incident so much?

Ladies and gentlemen, theys and gays, I’ve got something splendid for you all today. It’s time for:

tefifonconnoisseur’s OC dump!

Disclaimer: I went through a deep dive for OCs I’ve created since 2021, and every drawing after the first was before my drawing class and thus around 2021-22, since I didn’t draw much last year, and what I did was just OC doodles.

All characters work for the DDB, a news company that reports on either the most nothing news or almost gets themselves killed, with very little in between.

If you want more info on any of this, feel free to ask either on my page or in the comments.

I do touch on vore throughout, but mostly roles and a brief thing about it at the end. This is mostly G/T centric though

All is below the cut for the sake of not filling your feed. Please don’t use my OCs without my permission.

Aristotle Buttermilk

Age: 18

Position at DDB: Reporter

Status: Prey

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: AroAce

Misc.: Autistic, prefers peace, enjoys classical music and any music considered “gay”

Carlene Fernsby

Age: 43

Position at DDB: CEO

Status: Wants nothing to do with vore, prey if you enjoy pain

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Straight

Misc: Prone to violence and Karen behavior, guards Aristotle from himself and is his protector. Carlene hates Francine but hasn’t had reason to fire her yet

Mildred Everlove

Age: 65

Position at DDB: Sound Designer and Composer

Status: Prey

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Lesbian

Misc: Her soulmate, Chloe, passed tragically in 1989 and thus she hasn’t been in the dating scene much since, plays Matilda Brunswick in “Titans of Philadelphia” (see more below). She’s a grandmotherly figure and caring, but not to those who hurt those she loves

Francine and Charlie Dill

Age: 28

Position at DDB: Francine is a secretary, Charlie runs HR

Status: Switch

Pronouns: Jeanne goes by she/her, Charlie by he/him

Misc: As you could guess, twins. Charlie went to college while Francine served time in the military before coming back and becoming a secretary. Charlie is a perfectionist and takes complaints seriously, while Francine is more laid-back and carefree, except not really since she’s more Karen then Carlene.

Mr. President

Age: 222

Position at DDB: President

Status: Switch

Pronouns: They/Them (Mr. Is gender-neutral)

Sexuality: Unknown

Misc: nobody knows where he came from, he just said he was the president and everyone just accepted it. He could be a god, but nobody really bothers to ask. He is actually nice weirdly enough, but nobody talks to him so nobody actually knows

Pelvis Resley

Age: 37

Position at DDB: He’s supposed to be running IT, but he probably leaves the IT staff to fend for themselves and goes to do shows

Status: Pred

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Home Depot membership card levels of straight

Misc: He does Elvis impressions and tries to get any woman breathing in his general vicinity. He would’ve been fired if Mr. President didn’t find him too funny. His personality shifts depending on how well his previous night’s show went, but nobody likes him.

Le Cube

Age: 39

Position at DDB: Cook

Status: Pred

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Bi

Misc: Basically Pelvis but with more charisma and nice all the time. He prefers not to perform but rather to record jazz music.

The Selenites

Age: They’re a species, range is 0-98 usually

Position at DDB: They ruin everything

Status: Usually Preds

Misc: They’re basically the ones from “A Trip To The Moon”, just with my take. They’re aliens that occasionally show up at DDB and just wreck everything. They are 65 feet tall and they hate Mr. President, but can never get him. They are the villains of this universe.

Other basic world information:

Akin to the OCs of other vore enjoyers who won’t be named, the DDB sorta just enter other realities (fandoms) whenever they want, no explanation

The company is located in a small Midwestern town in the middle of nowhere

Shrinking tech and growing tech was perfected in 199X and the DDB’s guys keep the secrets under wraps, but not well since when things happen, EVERYONE KNOWS

Giants do exist; they live separately following the human-giant war of 1933

Due to the rules of dimensional scaling being nonexistent, the DDB crew are tiny in certain worlds but not others.

Giants are 60 years ahead of humans

Mildred Everlove has performed a show in a stomach before.

The “Titans of Philadelphia” movie centers around Matilda Brunswick and her apprentice Alfonso who assist in the human-giant war of 1933. She uses a 1905 Oldsmobile with plasma guns attached for combat. After being eaten by a giant teen, Skip, and freed, they team up with him to defeat the big bad dictator Kristopher. It was released in 1989 and became a cult classic when released on VHS in early 1990.

Stomachs only work when the owner of that stomach wants it to

I’m in a G/T mood, might write a solely G/T fic, maybe even introduce OCs. I’ve got them, but my issue is I’d want to use ones I’ve introduced elsewhere, but I don’t want anyone finding that “elsewhere”.

Like vore is cool but G/T by itself is a goldmine.

I’m always open for story requests if anyone’s wanting a story. I’ve got I believe 2 remaining story ideas from my original list I made in February, and will be formulating more once I run out, but requests are what introduced me to TF2, so I’m always willing to do research into making a good story.

Reblogging since I posted this 12 hours earlier than I usually post my stories, might’ve gotten lost in the shuffle lol

Wild Kratts Vore - The One with Tazzy Chris

This story was inspired by @voreaz , huge HUGE thanks to their blog for inspiring me to get out of my debating head and actually write Wild Kratts vore, something I’ve been considering since before I knew what vore even was. While I am trying to center this around the episode, I apologize if I deviate too far in the parts I’m not trying to deviate from. Also, continuity doesn’t exist until Athena P says it does, so until she drops a lore video, I’m ignoring it. (Also don’t tag her OR the fandom if you reblog this please, I’m already dying publishing this)

Silence in the night isn’t a thing.

Maybe you’re in the city and there’s cars driving by, or like a small town with the noises of bars, but out in the wilderness, there’s the best kind of night noise: living creatures. Crickets and cicadas chirping, wolves howling, owls hoo-ing, and other noises. The noises of the wilderness are an active sign of flourishing life, even in the times most are asleep, but for the Kratt Brothers, this was the best time to observe the Tasmanian Devil.

Out in Tasmania, the brothers were on a quest, a great and noble quest, to prove that these creatures weren’t actually as scary as people think they are. It was also a chance to help scientists track them, as they are sadly endangered and as such needed to be protected.

Chris was sure to pack only essential tools for tagging. After all, each material was extra weight and as such, only what was necessary should be brought, so while Martin revealing that he only brought a crappy Halloween mask, was surprising, he was calm. Not mad, just kind of surprised.

Aviva took this moment to call them via hologram, eliminating the chance Martin had to explain his thought process or share anything else he brought.

“Simply put the tag on their ear. It doesn’t hurt them and allows us to track them!” She told the boys before going back to work on something, whatever it was is unimportant. Now, one can’t simply grab an animal and put it on the animal; that would cause them distress and maybe pain. The fly cam was the mouseketool for the job, providing a safe and easy way to tag the devils. Walking towards the noises of these creatures, Martin asked Chris,

“Not to be a scaredy cat, but are you sure we wanna do this?”, either afraid of the dark or the very creatures that he preached to be misunderstood.

“We have to! T. Devils are disappearing so quickly, and the more we know about them, the more we’ll be able to help protect them from becoming extinct” Chris replied calmly, his patience grounding Martin’s slightly hysteric fears.

What would help this were if one of these T. Devils didn’t make a scary shadow via Chris’ headlamp, but guess what? Martin, while initially afraid, saw the creature making the shadow and the coating of fear was spread away. Martin did though, feel a tickling sensation on his leg and asked Chris accusatorily if this was a good time for a tickle fight.

“I’m not tickling you right now”

As it turns out, one of the unaptly-named devils was licking his leg, which frightened Martin into Chris’ arms. But these devils didn’t just create fear, they also ate food. Being scavengers, they found a carcass and began eating, giving Chris ample time to put on a tag via the fly cam. [Watching the episode right now for the sake of exposition and they can chew through BONE?!] Tagging went well.

Now here’s where things get interesting. While Chris was using the fly cam, a devil came up to him and began observing this large foreign skin monkey that showed up out of nowhere. While Chris was joking about the devil giving him a taste test, what this animal found more appetizing was the creature suit, and took a chomp at it. Sparks and whirring caught Chris’s attention, who told the animal to be careful as to not cause a creature suit malfunction. But as things go, he jinxed himself and suddenly starting shaking as a green glow engulfed him and he became partially Tasmanian Devil, his brain rewired in a more wild sense. Chris was now half man, half creature. Instantly smelling something good, Tazzy Chris (as he was affectionately referred to by witnesses) ran on all fours for the sake of discovering where this meat was. Martin saw this situation and grabbed Chris by the leg just as his malfunction temporarily ceased, with Chris none the wiser of this incident. Chris walked along, malfunctioned again, and returned to normal just as Martin tried to inform Aviva of the situation, who didn’t believe him but started on their way anyway. Chris kept malfunctioning and unmalfuntioning with no knowledge or control.

So this happens, and while they’re still dealing with this crap take care of the whole Zach thing, because truly, that’s not what’s important here. What is important was what happened next [here’s where we deviate from the episode slightly]

This suit, as it turns out, was not something that could be fixed lickety-split. Rather, it would require being hooked up to a computer and the software deactivated so that the suit could be removed for repair. But it was 4 in the morning and since Chris had some level of control, the Tortuga gang decided to leave the issue until after they got some good night’s sleep. After all, it would require focus she just didn’t have, and Chris was too tired to be helpful. So, the issue was put off. With the lights off and sleeping bags out, everyone got in and got rested for a few hours of sleep for tomorrow’s next adventure.

Sadly, this wasn’t going to go too well, and that’s for one simple reason: Martin had been foolish. If you recall, I mentioned that Aviva had interrupted him before he could share everything else he brought. Now, this thing he brought was the miniaturizer, a glorified shrink ray. It was compact enough to fit in the cargo shorts Martin wore, and was so exhausted from taking care of Chris and Zach that he had forgotten to put it up. So there he was, tightly wound in his sleeping bag with a small device in his back pocket against the ground slightly. All it would take for catastrophe was Martin rolling over slightly and pushing the button into the ground. What do you think happened?

The zapping sound, muffled by the bag, was unheard as Martin was shrunk to a tiny size. Immediately waking up in fear and realizing what had just happened, he thrashed and panicked, trying to find his way out of this sleeping bag so he could get someone to help him with returning to normal size.

Meanwhile, Chris was struggling to sleep, as his Tasmanian form had taken over for a hot minute and was wide awake, being nocturnal. While he did roll to his side and start to close his eyes, from the slit of his vision still showing, he saw movement. Small movement in Martin’s bag. His regular reaction would’ve been to jump up and investigate, but the rather feral part of his fried brain saw something else in that lump, something that was quite shocking and yet not realized fully quite yet: food. Some small and defenseless creature that could satiate his ravenous hunger after being rejected the carcass he had so badly craved. It was something. Like a cat preparing for a pounce, he just stared at the lump, watching as it got closer and closer to the edge, tripping and struggling all the way. And then, he saw it: a tiny blue thing. It was extremely dark, so much so that the night vision wasn’t quite helping him decipher what on earth that was. What was it? A monkey? A mouse? Some poor unfortunate flightless bird, like a damn Kiwi?

It truly didn’t matter what it was at this point; it smelled heavenly, like the greatest diner in the state of Oklahoma. It would probably taste even better. Saliva started seeping from his mouth as he started craving whatever the hell that tiny little thing was. Now would’ve been a great time for the malfunctioning suit to switch back, but poor luck fell upon this poor turtle ship, as it would experience a quite unpleasant incident, one only discovered once the sun rose and the dust settled.

Martin, after much struggles and pushes, tripped out of the sleeping bag and onto the cold, hard floor, his arms catching him just in time to not faceplant. He took a moment to get up and tried to look around, to formulate a plan. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the massive green eyes of his transformed brother, his pupils widened beyond the point that they typically go in dark places. It was something more, Martin recognized. What exactly was triggering this response from Chris wasn’t quite clear though. Happiness of seeing his brother? Focus? Hunger? This though, was more analytical thought than Chris was doing.

However much of Chris’s mind was there within his current state fluctuated, and right now, his mind was more wild than not. There was no thought, just animal instinct for a moment. With an unzipped sleeping bag, Chris lept out of his bag and pounced onto the unidentified creature, keeping it trapped within his hands. He had caught it and was in complete control of its circumstances now. Curiously, he picked it up in between 2 fingers by some sort of cloth. He ignored the fear that had covered Martin in a white, cold sheet and took a deep sniff of his brother. The smell was so strong, and so appetizing that Chris could wait no longer. Well, at least for a moment. Some more of Chris entered his mind, and thankfully this part told the rest that despite his lack of patience, he should be careful in not to harm this creature but rather to just swallow it whole. Such advice was swiftly taken.

Martin had never been more scared. He’d admit he was a bit of a scaredy cat, was frightened by shadows and the sort, but the fear was always ushered away by rationality and curiousness. This was different, however, in the sense that this was, at least to him, a real threat. He had no control over the situation, no rationality to lean on. For heaven’s sakes, his own brother was treating him as some sort of creature, a mouse, and not as his own flesh and blood brother, his lifelong friend.

Now if he thought that was bad, the lifting up above the head slow opening of Chris’ jaw to reveal his eager and awaiting maw sent a cold shiver down his spine and terminated any hope that this would be easily resolved. The sight was out of a nightmare. The teeth looked sharper and weren’t much of a pleasant invitation. The pink and squishy tongue covered with a veneer of saliva and lowered somewhat in preparation for his presence, for its next meal. At the very least his throat was healthy, flexing somewhat in anticipation for this event, and his teeth were white. The mouth of his brother was human, and yet in a way, more animal, more carnivorous.

The furred fingers gripping his shirt released, and he yelped as he landed face first into a pool of saliva and onto the squishy tongue. Quickly after, Chris’s teeth clicked shut and he was trapped. The tongue pressed up, pinning Martin against the roof and rolled him around with itself, tasting him, savoring him even, like a candy. Martin, evidently, tasted phenomenal, and he wondered if Jimmy ever felt the euphoria his brother was feeling. It wasn’t like that blue whale mouth he was in, as that was bigger and the tongue didn’t do all this. But his thoughts once again skimpered off in fear to the bunker in the back of his mind with their families in tow as Martin once again lost rationality and Chris moved Martin about the mouth, covering him in hot and slightly sticky saliva. I mean, it was NASTY, but in a way, to Martin, it was cool enough. He’d washed worse off of his clothes. Now that he was lathered and in place, the back of the tongue lowered and Chris slightly tilted his head back, allowing gravity to move his brother into his throat. Martin could only scream as he rolled into the back of the throat, and with Chris taking a deep swallow, he was forced into the throat. It took another swallow to get him far enough down for peristalsis to take over for him.

Chris put a finger on his throat to feel the irregular shape of the creature inside him, being tugged deeper and deeper. It was wonderful. This was unlike anything else he had ever done. The feral-ish (have to be careful using that word) part of his malfunctioning mind acting on its urges and following its basic instinct to consume, he felt satisfied at a good meal. Once the morsel that he usually called his brother disappeared beneath the collarbone, he laid back down on his sleeping bag as he felt the drop of Martin falling into his stomach.

It was an unceremoniously plop, really, as Chris didn’t catch himself and landed square on his head and fell backward onto his, well, back. It was indeed a stomach, humid as all hell, with wrinkles everywhere and a clear bile at the bottom that was really just a puddle. As far as sight was concerned, there was none, but as for smell, hoo boy. It was the smell of spoiled food of meals past, of bacteria’s chemicals. Truly, it was rank. He’d rather be back in the mouth of that grouper he saved the pufferfish from. The natural reaction to being eaten alive is usually fear, panic, sadness, etc, and while for a time this is how Martin felt, it was overcome by curiousness before long. He started recording with his creaturepad, marveling at the stomach walls moving and churning him around this moist environment, similar in a way to the swamps they’d been in in Florida while looking for crocodiles. The way the body worked was fascinating and his mind raced, taking notes of the process. How the mouth had soaked him and the muscles of the mouth joined with the throat to swallow him, how said throat had worked to swiftly move him down here, and how the stomach responded to his presence. It was a good thing, him being distracted from his circumstances, how he was trapped in an organ usually filled with acids that would break him down into nutrients to fuel the body.

But that was peculiar, how they were just not there, something Martin picked up on after feeling the mucus on the stomach wall protecting it from self-destructing. Why on Earth weren’t digestive enzymes present? He was grateful they weren’t here so he wasn’t in danger, but still, perplexing, no? The space without said threat was relaxing in a way, the heat and limited bile working to soothe his weary body and tired mind, to sort of whirl him to sleep. While he was laying against the wall, he was fighting to stay awake, but ultimately, he lost the battle and dozed off to unconsciousness.

Hours passed, and as the sun rose, Chris had fallen asleep, but Aviva had woken up, had already hooked his suit up to her computer so that she could patch the code and allow Chris to be free from his creature power suit. She knew that T. Devils were nocturnal and Chris too by extension, so she wouldn’t be pressed for time to do it before Chris’s suit glitched again and he went off to do something. This was barely an inconvenience this way.

When Chris finally rose, his suit had been removed and was back to normal, oblivious to the events that had transpired just hours ago. He took a look at Martin’s sleeping bag and found it empty, save for the miniaturizer. It looked like it had gone off. This was worrying: if Martin had shrunken in the night, where was he now? Then, he heard a peculiar sound from his core. A sound unlike the heartbeats and gurgles that were standard, it was almost . . . Snoring?

Peculiar, but it couldn’t be what he thought. He should just call Martin, ask him where he was. When he dialed Martin, he could hear his ringtone coming from-

His suspicions were true. He theorized that his tazzy form had seen Martin shrunken and decided he was prey, catching him and swallowing him whole. But there weren’t any acids present, thankfully, so Martin had unintentionally fallen asleep. He didn’t blame him: it had been a LONG night, so he needed some rest. Chris chose not to inform the others of his discovery, but rather to talk a morning walk. Once Martin woke up, Chris would release him. They’d tell the others that he had had a run in with a hungry devil, but not which hungry devil. Then, they’d wait until night to tag more of the devils. But until then (and until Aviva and Koki inevitably found out the truth and lectured them), it would just be an alone nature walk, but with Martin, not truly alone.

Wild Kratts Vore - The One with Tazzy Chris

This story was inspired by @voreaz , huge HUGE thanks to their blog for inspiring me to get out of my debating head and actually write Wild Kratts vore, something I’ve been considering since before I knew what vore even was. While I am trying to center this around the episode, I apologize if I deviate too far in the parts I’m not trying to deviate from. Also, continuity doesn’t exist until Athena P says it does, so until she drops a lore video, I’m ignoring it. (Also don’t tag her OR the fandom if you reblog this please, I’m already dying publishing this)

Silence in the night isn’t a thing.

Maybe you’re in the city and there’s cars driving by, or like a small town with the noises of bars, but out in the wilderness, there’s the best kind of night noise: living creatures. Crickets and cicadas chirping, wolves howling, owls hoo-ing, and other noises. The noises of the wilderness are an active sign of flourishing life, even in the times most are asleep, but for the Kratt Brothers, this was the best time to observe the Tasmanian Devil.

Out in Tasmania, the brothers were on a quest, a great and noble quest, to prove that these creatures weren’t actually as scary as people think they are. It was also a chance to help scientists track them, as they are sadly endangered and as such needed to be protected.

Chris was sure to pack only essential tools for tagging. After all, each material was extra weight and as such, only what was necessary should be brought, so while Martin revealing that he only brought a crappy Halloween mask, was surprising, he was calm. Not mad, just kind of surprised.

Aviva took this moment to call them via hologram, eliminating the chance Martin had to explain his thought process or share anything else he brought.

“Simply put the tag on their ear. It doesn’t hurt them and allows us to track them!” She told the boys before going back to work on something, whatever it was is unimportant. Now, one can’t simply grab an animal and put it on the animal; that would cause them distress and maybe pain. The fly cam was the mouseketool for the job, providing a safe and easy way to tag the devils. Walking towards the noises of these creatures, Martin asked Chris,

“Not to be a scaredy cat, but are you sure we wanna do this?”, either afraid of the dark or the very creatures that he preached to be misunderstood.

“We have to! T. Devils are disappearing so quickly, and the more we know about them, the more we’ll be able to help protect them from becoming extinct” Chris replied calmly, his patience grounding Martin’s slightly hysteric fears.

What would help this were if one of these T. Devils didn’t make a scary shadow via Chris’ headlamp, but guess what? Martin, while initially afraid, saw the creature making the shadow and the coating of fear was spread away. Martin did though, feel a tickling sensation on his leg and asked Chris accusatorily if this was a good time for a tickle fight.

“I’m not tickling you right now”

As it turns out, one of the unaptly-named devils was licking his leg, which frightened Martin into Chris’ arms. But these devils didn’t just create fear, they also ate food. Being scavengers, they found a carcass and began eating, giving Chris ample time to put on a tag via the fly cam. [Watching the episode right now for the sake of exposition and they can chew through BONE?!] Tagging went well.

Now here’s where things get interesting. While Chris was using the fly cam, a devil came up to him and began observing this large foreign skin monkey that showed up out of nowhere. While Chris was joking about the devil giving him a taste test, what this animal found more appetizing was the creature suit, and took a chomp at it. Sparks and whirring caught Chris’s attention, who told the animal to be careful as to not cause a creature suit malfunction. But as things go, he jinxed himself and suddenly starting shaking as a green glow engulfed him and he became partially Tasmanian Devil, his brain rewired in a more wild sense. Chris was now half man, half creature. Instantly smelling something good, Tazzy Chris (as he was affectionately referred to by witnesses) ran on all fours for the sake of discovering where this meat was. Martin saw this situation and grabbed Chris by the leg just as his malfunction temporarily ceased, with Chris none the wiser of this incident. Chris walked along, malfunctioned again, and returned to normal just as Martin tried to inform Aviva of the situation, who didn’t believe him but started on their way anyway. Chris kept malfunctioning and unmalfuntioning with no knowledge or control.

So this happens, and while they’re still dealing with this crap take care of the whole Zach thing, because truly, that’s not what’s important here. What is important was what happened next [here’s where we deviate from the episode slightly]

This suit, as it turns out, was not something that could be fixed lickety-split. Rather, it would require being hooked up to a computer and the software deactivated so that the suit could be removed for repair. But it was 4 in the morning and since Chris had some level of control, the Tortuga gang decided to leave the issue until after they got some good night’s sleep. After all, it would require focus she just didn’t have, and Chris was too tired to be helpful. So, the issue was put off. With the lights off and sleeping bags out, everyone got in and got rested for a few hours of sleep for tomorrow’s next adventure.

Sadly, this wasn’t going to go too well, and that’s for one simple reason: Martin had been foolish. If you recall, I mentioned that Aviva had interrupted him before he could share everything else he brought. Now, this thing he brought was the miniaturizer, a glorified shrink ray. It was compact enough to fit in the cargo shorts Martin wore, and was so exhausted from taking care of Chris and Zach that he had forgotten to put it up. So there he was, tightly wound in his sleeping bag with a small device in his back pocket against the ground slightly. All it would take for catastrophe was Martin rolling over slightly and pushing the button into the ground. What do you think happened?

The zapping sound, muffled by the bag, was unheard as Martin was shrunk to a tiny size. Immediately waking up in fear and realizing what had just happened, he thrashed and panicked, trying to find his way out of this sleeping bag so he could get someone to help him with returning to normal size.

Meanwhile, Chris was struggling to sleep, as his Tasmanian form had taken over for a hot minute and was wide awake, being nocturnal. While he did roll to his side and start to close his eyes, from the slit of his vision still showing, he saw movement. Small movement in Martin’s bag. His regular reaction would’ve been to jump up and investigate, but the rather feral part of his fried brain saw something else in that lump, something that was quite shocking and yet not realized fully quite yet: food. Some small and defenseless creature that could satiate his ravenous hunger after being rejected the carcass he had so badly craved. It was something. Like a cat preparing for a pounce, he just stared at the lump, watching as it got closer and closer to the edge, tripping and struggling all the way. And then, he saw it: a tiny blue thing. It was extremely dark, so much so that the night vision wasn’t quite helping him decipher what on earth that was. What was it? A monkey? A mouse? Some poor unfortunate flightless bird, like a damn Kiwi?

It truly didn’t matter what it was at this point; it smelled heavenly, like the greatest diner in the state of Oklahoma. It would probably taste even better. Saliva started seeping from his mouth as he started craving whatever the hell that tiny little thing was. Now would’ve been a great time for the malfunctioning suit to switch back, but poor luck fell upon this poor turtle ship, as it would experience a quite unpleasant incident, one only discovered once the sun rose and the dust settled.

Martin, after much struggles and pushes, tripped out of the sleeping bag and onto the cold, hard floor, his arms catching him just in time to not faceplant. He took a moment to get up and tried to look around, to formulate a plan. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the massive green eyes of his transformed brother, his pupils widened beyond the point that they typically go in dark places. It was something more, Martin recognized. What exactly was triggering this response from Chris wasn’t quite clear though. Happiness of seeing his brother? Focus? Hunger? This though, was more analytical thought than Chris was doing.

However much of Chris’s mind was there within his current state fluctuated, and right now, his mind was more wild than not. There was no thought, just animal instinct for a moment. With an unzipped sleeping bag, Chris lept out of his bag and pounced onto the unidentified creature, keeping it trapped within his hands. He had caught it and was in complete control of its circumstances now. Curiously, he picked it up in between 2 fingers by some sort of cloth. He ignored the fear that had covered Martin in a white, cold sheet and took a deep sniff of his brother. The smell was so strong, and so appetizing that Chris could wait no longer. Well, at least for a moment. Some more of Chris entered his mind, and thankfully this part told the rest that despite his lack of patience, he should be careful in not to harm this creature but rather to just swallow it whole. Such advice was swiftly taken.

Martin had never been more scared. He’d admit he was a bit of a scaredy cat, was frightened by shadows and the sort, but the fear was always ushered away by rationality and curiousness. This was different, however, in the sense that this was, at least to him, a real threat. He had no control over the situation, no rationality to lean on. For heaven’s sakes, his own brother was treating him as some sort of creature, a mouse, and not as his own flesh and blood brother, his lifelong friend.

Now if he thought that was bad, the lifting up above the head slow opening of Chris’ jaw to reveal his eager and awaiting maw sent a cold shiver down his spine and terminated any hope that this would be easily resolved. The sight was out of a nightmare. The teeth looked sharper and weren’t much of a pleasant invitation. The pink and squishy tongue covered with a veneer of saliva and lowered somewhat in preparation for his presence, for its next meal. At the very least his throat was healthy, flexing somewhat in anticipation for this event, and his teeth were white. The mouth of his brother was human, and yet in a way, more animal, more carnivorous.

The furred fingers gripping his shirt released, and he yelped as he landed face first into a pool of saliva and onto the squishy tongue. Quickly after, Chris’s teeth clicked shut and he was trapped. The tongue pressed up, pinning Martin against the roof and rolled him around with itself, tasting him, savoring him even, like a candy. Martin, evidently, tasted phenomenal, and he wondered if Jimmy ever felt the euphoria his brother was feeling. It wasn’t like that blue whale mouth he was in, as that was bigger and the tongue didn’t do all this. But his thoughts once again skimpered off in fear to the bunker in the back of his mind with their families in tow as Martin once again lost rationality and Chris moved Martin about the mouth, covering him in hot and slightly sticky saliva. I mean, it was NASTY, but in a way, to Martin, it was cool enough. He’d washed worse off of his clothes. Now that he was lathered and in place, the back of the tongue lowered and Chris slightly tilted his head back, allowing gravity to move his brother into his throat. Martin could only scream as he rolled into the back of the throat, and with Chris taking a deep swallow, he was forced into the throat. It took another swallow to get him far enough down for peristalsis to take over for him.

Chris put a finger on his throat to feel the irregular shape of the creature inside him, being tugged deeper and deeper. It was wonderful. This was unlike anything else he had ever done. The feral-ish (have to be careful using that word) part of his malfunctioning mind acting on its urges and following its basic instinct to consume, he felt satisfied at a good meal. Once the morsel that he usually called his brother disappeared beneath the collarbone, he laid back down on his sleeping bag as he felt the drop of Martin falling into his stomach.

It was an unceremoniously plop, really, as Chris didn’t catch himself and landed square on his head and fell backward onto his, well, back. It was indeed a stomach, humid as all hell, with wrinkles everywhere and a clear bile at the bottom that was really just a puddle. As far as sight was concerned, there was none, but as for smell, hoo boy. It was the smell of spoiled food of meals past, of bacteria’s chemicals. Truly, it was rank. He’d rather be back in the mouth of that grouper he saved the pufferfish from. The natural reaction to being eaten alive is usually fear, panic, sadness, etc, and while for a time this is how Martin felt, it was overcome by curiousness before long. He started recording with his creaturepad, marveling at the stomach walls moving and churning him around this moist environment, similar in a way to the swamps they’d been in in Florida while looking for crocodiles. The way the body worked was fascinating and his mind raced, taking notes of the process. How the mouth had soaked him and the muscles of the mouth joined with the throat to swallow him, how said throat had worked to swiftly move him down here, and how the stomach responded to his presence. It was a good thing, him being distracted from his circumstances, how he was trapped in an organ usually filled with acids that would break him down into nutrients to fuel the body.

But that was peculiar, how they were just not there, something Martin picked up on after feeling the mucus on the stomach wall protecting it from self-destructing. Why on Earth weren’t digestive enzymes present? He was grateful they weren’t here so he wasn’t in danger, but still, perplexing, no? The space without said threat was relaxing in a way, the heat and limited bile working to soothe his weary body and tired mind, to sort of whirl him to sleep. While he was laying against the wall, he was fighting to stay awake, but ultimately, he lost the battle and dozed off to unconsciousness.

Hours passed, and as the sun rose, Chris had fallen asleep, but Aviva had woken up, had already hooked his suit up to her computer so that she could patch the code and allow Chris to be free from his creature power suit. She knew that T. Devils were nocturnal and Chris too by extension, so she wouldn’t be pressed for time to do it before Chris’s suit glitched again and he went off to do something. This was barely an inconvenience this way.

When Chris finally rose, his suit had been removed and was back to normal, oblivious to the events that had transpired just hours ago. He took a look at Martin’s sleeping bag and found it empty, save for the miniaturizer. It looked like it had gone off. This was worrying: if Martin had shrunken in the night, where was he now? Then, he heard a peculiar sound from his core. A sound unlike the heartbeats and gurgles that were standard, it was almost . . . Snoring?

Peculiar, but it couldn’t be what he thought. He should just call Martin, ask him where he was. When he dialed Martin, he could hear his ringtone coming from-

His suspicions were true. He theorized that his tazzy form had seen Martin shrunken and decided he was prey, catching him and swallowing him whole. But there weren’t any acids present, thankfully, so Martin had unintentionally fallen asleep. He didn’t blame him: it had been a LONG night, so he needed some rest. Chris chose not to inform the others of his discovery, but rather to talk a morning walk. Once Martin woke up, Chris would release him. They’d tell the others that he had had a run in with a hungry devil, but not which hungry devil. Then, they’d wait until night to tag more of the devils. But until then (and until Aviva and Koki inevitably found out the truth and lectured them), it would just be an alone nature walk, but with Martin, not truly alone.

I’ve always considered doing vore art. I’ve always WANTED to draw vore art. So many characters with so little vore content that I’d love to both draw and write for them. I mean that’s why I stopped lurking and actually joined: to make vore content nobody else was. Not to mention my Wattpad covers could use some good looks.

But then I remember that what I consider the best drawing I did during my drawing class still isn’t up to the standard of art I would consume. I get told it’s good but I don’t believe them. I’m shocked I passed. I’d look at the art of my peers and I’ve legitimately almost cried.

So this is why my Wattpad covers are bad photoshops and I only write rather than doing both: because I’m usually actually okay with my writing, but in no way have I ever been proud of my drawings.

Anyway, Wilds Kratts vore fic in progress, don’t expect to see more art from me anytime soon. Bye!

Previously Titled Pokemon XY Vore Fanfic

The old title, “A Midsummer Night’s Vore”, I hate now so we aren’t using it. This is indeed the 3000 word fanfic that was originally published in 4 parts in March of 2024. After this I’m going to write something and wait to publish the Atom Meister saga until later because dammit I wanna write. It’s either going to be Barley Lightfoot from Onward or something Wild Kratts, we’ll see.

So in this one, Ash Ketchum is the pred, but fret not because I’ve aged him up to 14 because the whole “10” thing is strange. If that makes you uncomfortable, though, you may want to skip this story. Anyways, enjoy! (Or at least pretend to)

Throughout regions of the Pokémon world, as with other worlds, there exists different criminal syndicates. Each region has their own unique group, committing crimes and stealing Pokémon for one motivation or another. What these motivations are, for the most part, are to us unknown.These criminal rings consist of the stereotypical trope of a background ringleader and enforcers known in the comic world as henchmen, henchmen that like most suffer from major incompetence issues. Simply put, if it weren’t for their physicality and Pokémon battle skill, they would cease to be useful.

None of these groups, however, are anywhere near the scale of Team Rocket, the Kanto crime ring. Lead by gym leader Giovanni, they hold the nation in a griphold of terror with enforcements across the land. In order to maintain his power, Giovanni often demands Pokémon with an abnormally high power level for the sake of an unfair advantage. Two henchmen were known as Jesse and James. The trainers were coworkers with a complicated friendship and shared pokemon, specifically an English-speaking Meowth and for this story, a Wobbuffet. The two had been tasked long ago in capturing a supposedly powerful Pikachu, whose trainer was known as Ash Ketchum. From here on out, the two will simply be referred to as Team Rocket due to the fact that no other team Rocket grunts will be seen throughout the story for reasons that will make themselves known soon enough.

Ash Ketchum. A trainer with dreams of Pokémon grandeur and a Pikachu who never rode in a pokeball. During his journey throughout Kanto, defeating gym leaders, he traveled with friends Misty and Brock. Whenever the two miscreants attempted to intercept the gang, they were blasted off and were unable to attain their goal. Eventually, the gang traveled to the Orange Islands. However was the Pikachu to be captured? A question that was answered with perhaps the most unforseeable answer: follow them out of Kanto. See, gangs never venture out of their territory of origin, often because they can’t get a passport. Still, Team Rocket received orders and were forced to leave for the Orange Islands, then for every concurrent region Ash Ketchum journeyed to.

We’ll catch up in Kalos, a nation known for good food, disrespectful civilians, and a striking resemblance to a nation known only to us as France. Here, Ash Ketchum met up with childhood friend Serena, electric gym leader Clemont, and his sister Bonnie. We’ve missed quite a few interactions already, but currently the gang travels through the woods. Jesse and James? Obviously in Kalos, following from far behind in order to not get caught. This is where our story, and the series of halfwitted choices are made by Team Rocket that lead to a… unique encounter with Ash Ketchum.

When one lays in the forest, staring at the night sky, ideas pop into their head. Sometimes, these ideas change the world. Sometimes, it provides us with things to do. Sometimes however, these ideas, fueled by tired delirium and perhaps dehydration, are so poor that they do not dare enter the world.

This last idea popped into the head of James, his blue hair practically glowing with excitement, his groggy eyes widening. We cannot be sure if there was any proper reasoning or doubt going through his head before he woke up Jesse, whose facial expression was allegedly akin to Yzma’s resting one. With excitement, he relayed to her his holy word.

“So, whenever we attempt to take Pikachu during the day, the twerps end up blasting us into the sky, so what if we sneak up at night?”

Jesse, who had no patience left so late at night, replied,

“We’ve TRIED this before. Our footsteps will wake us up. We can’t just minimize them”

“Ah, but that’s where my genius begins,” James replied, as he pulls out four butterscotch candies from his pocket. With the lamp Jesse turns on, she can see a shimmer.

…

During a previous night, Professor Sycamore and his team had been experimenting. Mega evolution stones are made, like most glass, from molten sand. The sand here, however comes from a magic source, one which we can’t pinpoint a location to. His laboratory supposedly got drunk, infused this molten material into butterscotch, and ate one to test the effects of the stone material on humans, since cell growth, and biological improvements, are known to result. However, this sand contains Oganesson-Tetrahydride, which when combined with sugar, compacts cells heavily. This caused the lab intern to shrink to a measly few inches tall, baffling everyone there. After careful examination, he returned to normal in 12 hours. It, as was normal, was written down and the candies were sealed away.

When the lab closed, James and Meowth snuck in and found the candies in a glass jar.

“Bott’s Shrinking Butterscotches?” Meowth jested, “Who on Earth would make something like that?”

“I don’t know, but it’s in here for a reason” James replied.

Reading the lab report attached, they discovered the incident that caused them to be sealed in glass. James decided this would be useful someday, and against Meowth’s judgement, smashed the glass and stole the candies, determined to eventually find a use for them.

…

“This is by far the stupidest idea you’ve ever had. You want to shrink, hide with the gang, and steal Pikachu?”

James, still determined to convince Jesse, said,

“Well, we get Meowth to take him and us once we send him our location. We’ll return to normal in 12 hours”. Jesse, while at first conflicted regarding this, reasoned that if they could return to normal, this would be foolproof. As mentioned earlier, all peons lack proper intelligence. Despite being one of the smartest, this general rule combined with her tired mind made a decision.

“Whatever, let’s do it”.

Jesse and James, prepared for the day at 6 in the morning, each grabbed a shimmering butterscotch.

“3, 2, 1, bon appetit”

Each popped their candy into their mouths. The taste… similar to the smell of a Mac and cheese candle that I found at TJ Maxx once. It took a lot of willpower to finish the dang thing, but they did. And going timing too, because here come the twerps! Ash Ketchum, with his Pikachu on his shoulder, Serena looking at a map on her Pokédex, Clemont tinkering with something a new invention that was already smoking, and Bonnie close behind. Within moments, they quickly started losing size. Once around a quarter of their normal height, they dashed towards Ash’s shoe.

“What was that rustling?” Serena asked, looking around with nothing in sight.

“That was odd… probably a passing Pokemon” Clemont answered, him too doubting his claims.

Meanwhile, Team Rocket, now going from a quarter of their size to a size of a quarter, had snuck onto Ash’s shoe, which was quite the bumpy ride. This was not going to be viable, each step rocking the two to the verge of hurling. Their best bet was the pocket, where they might not be noticed. Quickly, they started attempting to crawl up the boy’s jeans, the rough denim not providing as much grip for their feet as was properly needed, each step nearly sending them flying to oblivion. As his legs moved for a step, so did the two mini-peons. At this point, Ash was behind the others, preventing the three from seeing them, him eating an unidentified snack, unaware of the beginning of the Pikachu heist. Slowly making progress, the shake would cause one to lose some grip, each finger grabbing less, until by the time James got to the pocket. His hands in pain, almost throbbing, he was relieved to crawl in…

Except for his grip being lost. The blue-haired one began sliding against the friction-heavy denim, which generated heat and burned his face. As Jesse looked up, horror filled her eyes. She realized it was over. That they were going to fall and either die or worse: be caught. That in the latter case, their stupid idea, created solely by the incompetent twit who she was paid to call her partner, would be exposed to a bunch of 10 year olds. They could never live this one down. She hoped for the former, to fall and die quickly and painlessly rather than suffer the shame of their greatest failure.

Death, however, can only be so many places at once. The two fell onto the shoe, alerting Ash to the prescence of SOMETHING.

“Hold on guys, some things fell on my shoe” Ash shouted, the three stopping to look. Their curiosity turned into shock

“More like some PEOPLE!” Bonnie yelled.

Ash quickly figured out what he was seeing, miniature Team Rocket on his shoe, winded from a fall. If looks could kill, Jesse would have killed James, and had she not fallen so hard, she would’ve choked him. Ash grabbed the two and held them in an open palm, slightly curved to prevent a fall. He remembered a time long ago, in which something similar had happened to him and some other friends. Now, the roles had reversed. The thieves had become the caught.

“Another attempt to steal Pikachu, huh? How did you do this?”

Jesse, pissed, started shrieking, “THIS MAN RIGHT HERE STOLE SOME SHRINKING GARBOLIUM CANDIES FROM PROFESSOR SYCAMORE AND CONVINCED US TO SNEAK WITH YOU GUYS AND STEAL YOUR STUPID PIKACHU! I CAN’T BELIEVE I AGREED TO THIS!”

She finished by slapping James right across the face, his cheek turning as red as her ears.

“According to my research,” Clemont stated in his matter-of-fact like way, “Those candies, made from Mega Evolution stones, compress the atoms and shrink their consumers for around 12 hours. This also makes them immune to most damage.”

“Great”, Ash said, “so we’re stuck with the two of you for 12 hours, huh? What do we do with them? I can’t just use my pockets, I would need a pouch of some kind where I would know they were safe.” His care of them was somewhat confusing to the two, who had given only one or two cares about Ash the entire time they had been chasing him. But who cares, they have to stay with him for 12 hours! They certainly won’t have a fun time riding on a shoulder or a pocket, but that pouch option doesn’t exist.

This pouch option, one that had not been truly thought about, decided to make its self known with a growl. This pouch was none other than the ravenous stomach of Ash Ketchum. Breakfast had been light today, huh? Everyone immediately stared first as the stomach, then at the two miscreants. Jesse and James, confused at first, put the pieces together.

“Like I would EVER allow you to eat me! I will not accept death from YOUR hands!” Jesse yelled.

James reasoned, “But Clemont said we would be immune to most damage, probably including stomach acids”

“Shut it, James! You got us into this mess, and you’re digging us deeper!”

But the damage was already done.

“Guys, if you don’t want to be killed by some other Pokemon or lost in the wilderness, this is really our only shot” Serena pleaded. Ash’s face, unlike the others, did not reciprocate this idea.

“I’m not sure I could swallow two mini people whole. They might get stuck.”

“You basically swallow your food whole every day, it might not be hard. If you need, you could take a drink or something. And besides, it’s for their safety”

Ash continued staring, sweating, wondering if he would, could, mentally and physically, be able to swallow two things the size of coins whole. His throat was unprepared for things like that. It would definitely hurt. Then again, they were small. Maybe, just maybe, he could work them down.

“Fine”

Welp, here goes

Team Rocket’s mental preparations were minimal. There isn’t much one can do to get ready to be eaten. It’s not like humans actively swallow each other whole all the time, not in Kalos. There are rumors of such actions occurring underground in Galar, and fight clubs in Kanto often end this way, but these involved the Pokémon doing the consuming due to the size difference making it possible. Even in Galar, everyone involved was over 18.

But here, a human, a prepubescent twit, was going to be swallowing them whole, storing them in their minuscule and insignificant stomach, which had previously never seen anything besides food and dirt. His throat looked way too skinny to carry them down successfully. At the very least, if he was fully willing, there would be a commitment. But he was conflicted, nervous.

Ash, after several deep breaths, slowly opened his mouth. His teeth were somewhat sharp, but had definitely skipped one or two brushings. His gums were relatively healthy. His tongue was a healthy pink, with only a slightly brighter splotch near the back. His short uvula barely dangled over his throat, which looked bigger without tonsils, but wasn’t big enough anyway.

He stuck his tongue out for them to crawl onto, a tendril of saliva sticking to it. Jesse and James looked within with fear, but slowly and shakily climbed inside the maw, James being pushed by Jesse so that she didn’t have to go first. Jesse climbed in, more grossed out now that her outfit had been ruined by a small pool of twerp spit. Ash slowly rolled his tongue and clamped his jaw shut, encircling the duo in darkness.

Ash quickly decided the best way to go was to swallow one at a time. James was slightly taller, so he decided to gulp him after Jesse so that if he coughed him back out, Jesse would still be in. Pushing James to the cheek, he rolled Jesse to the back of his tongue slowly, being careful to keep James in place and Jesse away from his teeth, which could easily cut her. Saliva was emitted, soaking Jesse in preparation. She folded up slightly, mostly in reaction to her disgust. Finally, he took a deep breath in his nose and gulped hard, sending Jesse into the entrance of the throat. With sharp pangs in his throat, he coughed hard and thumped his chest to continue Jesse’s descent through the esophagus.

Jesse was squeezed very tight, making it hard for her to breathe. Every breath granted her hot, stale air with an acidic bite that slightly hurt her chest. After a climax of squeeze, she fell into a shallow pool of acid face first and then sat against the base of the stomach wall. Despite her memory of acid breaking down cells and being painful, she felt no pain thanks to the compaction of her cells. Lighting an LED lamp in her pocket, she finally saw the detail of the swampy organ she had found herself in. The stomach wrinkles were curvy and artistic, covered in a few tiny white bubbles. Her entire life, she had rejected the idea that beauty was on the inside. Her entire life, she had been praised for her outer beauty. It had been her only gateway out of her life into her current career. Now… she still saw it as gross and fleshy. The smell was abysmal, there was no beauty in this.

After Ash had been relieved of most of the pain, he then pushed James to the roof of his mouth. He hadn’t taken much time to get a flavor with his last little “snack” [the thought creeped him out], so he chose to suck on James to get a flavor.

To his utter shock, James emitted a flavor of cinnamon Pokepuff frosting, releasing platonic pleasure throughout his brain. He wasn’t expecting this taste and was sort of weirded out, but the flavor was sweet and he had the desire to savor this moment, to keep this flavor for as long as possible. Unfortunately for him, he had things to do, so he rolled James to the back too and as before took a thick swallow, emitting a loud reverberating wet sound that caused James to emit a yelp from surprise. With the extra saliva from the good flavor, Ash found James much easier to gulp down them Jesse. James also descended, falling on his head. Once Jesse spotted him, her floodgates left the room and a massive amount of rage entered as she chewed his ear off, screaming about how his stupid idea had humiliated them, her handbag and outfit was ruined.

The “twerp” gang looked on in horror. Well, all for Clemont, who was looking on curiously and taking notes. He fully intended on asking James and Jesse 300 questions regarding the experience for the rest of the afternoon.

“This will provide so much information for the world of science, thank you Ash!” He cheered, Ash looking on in annoyance.

“Are you two okay in there?” Ash bent down and asked his own stomach, his question directed to its contents.

“NO! I’M SICK! I’M GOING TO HURL!” Jesse screamed.

“We’re alive” James replied, earning him a death glare from Jesse.

With the combination of the terrible environment, Clemont’s inevitable interviewing, and the rocking from the long walk, the two were going to have a LONG afternoon. They did contact Meowth and let him know, to which he laughed and only obliged to follow after threatening.

One thing was for certain though: with Clemont and the weight and fighting within his guts, Ash was not going to enjoy this afternoon. If only it had been Clemont who had been the predator, he thought.

With the drama over for now, the gang kept journeying towards the next gym, ready for the next Pokémon adventure.

Alright, I’m giving up on debating myself.

I mean either way the title’s changing, I used the temporary title when I published it and I hate it. No spoilers but I did have to age up the pred to 14 rather than 10 if that gives you a hint.

Hi

It seems that the community as a whole is sleeping on the potential of the PBS Kids show “Wild Kratts”

Context: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wild_Kratts

en.m.wikipedia.org

Wild Kratts - Wikipedia

Wild Kratts - Wikipedia

I’m not sure if it’s just obscure, but like, the show has:

Canonical G/T (via the Miniaturizer)

And several vorish scenes. To my memory, here’s some:

During a termite episode, Chris (in Termite power) gets into the mouth of some termite-eating thing, idk

A bear tries to eat one in a fish power

They’re in some flying machine shrunken during the snow and Aviva and Koki are sticking their tongues out and they have to avoid them. OOH

The platypus episode where Chris, miniaturized, is kidnapped by Gourmond and is referred to as an appetizer or something by Zach 👀

A whole episode dedicated to a game where the brothers catch their shrunken friends in the mouths of their suits. When Jimmy is caught in pelican power, he cries out, “Please don’t swallow me!”, which idk if they can do that in the suits or not, but OH MY.

The show’s still going, but they haven’t gone the WHOLE WAY with this vorebait. I’m aware one or two people are writing vore fanfics, but I believe they’re kink pages. There is a G/T fic on Wattpad (written by some kid with bad grammar) that like the series is a TEASE in the vore department. If you see a fic from me with them, this ramble is why.

Tumblr 1000% knows what they’re doing. I would be shocked if they didn’t. Strangely enough, I don’t think I’d really care about this anime besides this one scene.

Could use more saliva imo.

Armo’s Tale of Tomfoolery (Demoman Vore)

Admittedly, I don’t really care that much about TF2, and my only knowledge of the lore comes from Dead Meat’s video on that horror movie. When I wrote this, I hadn’t seen it but I got this request and was just like “cool, ok”. Even made an OC I’ll probably never draw and an AU for the first time, fun stuff. This was originally written on May 14, 2024 and contains swearing, some mild violence, alcohol, drinkplay, Scout hate, and mentions of object vore. While originally split to include a cliffhanger, I’m omitting that in this release. Enjoy!

(My knowledge of Demoman and TF2 as a whole is limited, so while I have done some research prior to writing, I apologize for any inaccuracies to the lore or certain character behaviors)

It’s battle day, innit.

Yup, ‘tis battle day. The war between red and blue continues again, as tends to happen when wars are instigated for the sick pleasure of viewers from around the world. While you’d think it’s the same as usual, this is incorrect. Blue Team has a truck up their sleeve, a new recruit, a borrower who is referred to as the Armorer, named as such because his job is to steal ammo and other things from opponents and turn in said thieved goods to his teammates. This is possible thanks to his oddly high strength. Simple, right? Well, for the first few battles, it was.

The Armorer was incredible at their job. While the Red Heavy was busy firing his minigun, he managed to steal his handgun. Once or twice, the Red Spy lost his pistol to the Armorer and managed to nab Blue Team kills. Nobody’s exactly looking for him, and his borrower experience makes him sneaky and quick, which is why he managed to steal so much without being found out. In addition to his main goal, he was also equipped with extremely tiny mines with a powerful punch that could knock an enemy over. This equipped him with an ability to assist in eliminations. Heaven knows he wouldn’t be out there if he wasn’t useful. Unfortunately, as anyone with basic foresight can tell you, this wouldn’t last and frankly couldn’t. It would only be a matter of time before he was found out.

It was turning out to be a normal Granary match at the beginning. The teams were pretty evenly matched and the Armorer was on his way to do his job. He stole some guns, some .45 caliber rounds, a shoelace, typical things. For the rest of his teammates, they got decent amounts of KOs. Blue Spy imitated Red Heavy and got several eliminations this way. At one point, Armo snuck into the pockets of an opponent, and the opponent thought they were a mouse and tried to get them out, while Demoman (who will come up later) snuck up and threw a Molotov at them.

About 2 minutes in though, Armo was spotted. Red Scout was doing… scouting, when he managed to spot Y/N in the opening, dashing from behind a shipping container to in between two of them. He at first thought it was some blue gerbil, as tons of gerbils exist in granaries, but then some logic managed to set into his troglodyte brain and he realized that it was some tiny man on Blue. Interesting… slowly, he followed Armo, attempting to weasel his way between the containers in the same way and getting his shoe stuck for a minute. Armo felt like he was being watched, and looked for a way across the man.

This is where the Demoman comes in. A Scottish man, he had drank a bottle of whiskey already and was somewhat tipsy at the moment. His usually locked chest had a broken latch due to a bar fight the previous night in which the chest was used as a weapon, so Armorer was able to hide inside it next to the whiskey bottle. Screaming loudly, he tried to get Demo’s attention.

“Hey Demo! Can I get a ride in your chest across the map?”

“Eh sure, bu’ I’m not responsible if ya get nicked”

So the Armorer hitched a ride in the whiskey chest with Demoman, sitting down upon a bottle of Scotch while holding on to the side of the chest. Every step and subsequent bounce made Armo slip and nearly fall off the bottle. It sucked. The Red Scout, following behind, took a second to wait for a moment when Demo was distracted and snatched Armo by the shirt collar.

“Looky here, we got ourselves a little thief, huh?”

Armo is staring into his eyes, more pissed than terrified at this gigantic twerp, analyzing his motives and every little facial twitch and expression he can find. Several pores were clogged, and his eyes had very little baggage, like he’d actually managed to sleep well knowing that nobody really liked him. Was he going to eat him?

“Chasing you’s worked up an appetite, huh? Maybe I’ll just eat you and fix that!”

He claimed he was, but the chance he had of getting Armo down his little chicken throat were slim to none. And even, EVEN if he somehow did, Armo would just blow a hole in his stomach because he’s not in the mood for that. Obviously, this won’t work. Guess who didn’t pick up on any of that? Scout, who slowly and in attempting to look cool licked his lips and opened wide.

[At this point, I split the story originally which explains the first paragraph, but I don’t really wanna this time]

You may think with the cliffhanger that I’m going to actually let Scout go through with this, but for the sake of everyone including myself actually enjoying this story, no.

Demo had just killed a Heavy with a grenade when he realizes that Armo wasn’t on his bottle. Where did he go? Did he fall out? In his still-decent vision, he spots Scout with Armo dangling above his mouth, and dashes over, snatching Armo with his big sweaty hands.

“Ey you! You ain’t gonna be eatin’ my wee little man ‘ere!”

“What makes you say that, Cyclops?”

“I’ll just eat ‘im me-self”

Now, one thing you have to understand is that Demoman makes good on his threats, which makes them more like promises. With a swift little hand flick, he tosses Armo right into his open maw and clicks his teeth shut right in front of Scout. Swallowing a teammate wasn’t his attention today, but anything to spite Scout is worth his time.

Armo is currently inside the mouth, beginning to get pissed. The Demo tongue swirls around him some, coating him in hot, whiskey-scented saliva as his nostrils burn off from the lingering alcohol and plaque around. He attempts to get up and shoot the everloving crap out of the teeth, but each attempt leaves him slipping back down like he’s on a waterslide. After having his outfit soaked, he’s pushed near to the back of the throat.

Demoman doesn’t want this terrible gunpowder-flavored boy going down raw. Not only would that hurt like a bitch, but whiskey tastes better anyway. So he grabs out his whiskey, pops off the cork with a corkscrew, and takes a big swig of it straight from the bottle. Armo, meanwhile, sees this and immediately dies inside, but also holds his breath as the liquids send him right past the epiglottis into the esophagus. His eyes are somewhat burning with spare whiskey that’s made it into his eyeballs, and he’s holding his breath for dear life so he doesn’t drown in the flaming liquid.

Back outside, Demo sticks his tongue right out at Scout, revealing the empty mouth where an Armo once sat.

“Dude, you’re gross”, Scout can only reply as he gets shot from behind by the Blue Mesic

“What on Eart zwas happening here?”

“‘Ad to eat Armo to protect ‘im”.

“Zat can’t be safe! We must leave at once for ze base!”

Thankfully, Blue Team heard the announcer say “Victory” from the sky and so they needn’t worry too much about the tiny man in Demo’s guts.

Speaking of the tiny man in Demo’s guts, if there were light inside the stomach, you’d see his face red with rage and maybe steam coming from his ears. With absolutely no hesitation, he grabs an AK-47 and wrecks havoc inside Demoman’s person. If he hadn’t been drinking, he might have felt it, too. Pissed with his clothes ruined by his least favorite alcoholic beverage (he’s more into dry wines), being hot and sweating profusely from the humidity of this swampy stomach, he shouts obscenities nobody can really hear over the songs of the stomach churning whiskey and potentially a granola bar.

Back at HQ, the blue Medic, rather than give Demoman ipecac syrup or shove his fingers down his throat, finds an ingenious solution to the problem, a solution that only a man with a PhD and years of experience in the field of medicine could cook up in such a dire moment: beating the shit out of Demo’s stomach until he vomits up the Armorer and maybe some blood too. This is when Demoman’s beer belly and lack of abs come in handy, as within several brass-knuckled punches, Armo is on the floor surrounded by brown vomit and some blood, as I predicted. The Medic begins panicking and babbling in a German accent as he rushes to clean Armo off while Armo is shouting at Demoman words and phrases that I cannot in good conscience repeat here. Lots of shouting is occurring as the Heavy and Spy back away slowly. The Blue Scout was watching TikTok when he heard this and came in completely oblivious to the massive scene that had been occurring, and man was it one.

It’s five hours later now and Armo is sitting with Demo and Heavy on the couch watching Santa Claus Conquers the Martians and discussing the incident from earlier. Armo brings up Red Scout, and Heavy and Spy both ramble on about what an idiot Red Scout is, how he would’ve choked to death on a deadly battlefield of all places had he gone through with attempting to swallow Armo.

The Spy brings up the idea that maybe Armo shouldn’t be out there anymore.

“This is proof that this was never going to work”, the Spy, the guy who suggested this in the first place says. “I told you all!”

“Eh, that’s fine”, Armo replied, “I can always do server work or something.”

And so it was. Armo got to work on computers. His size proved effective in repairing parts on old Windows XP computers, bought when the Heavy Update was first talked about. Thus, the neverending war for amusement continued, and everyone involved learned from this experience.

This is except for Red Scout, who did try to swallow a spark plug to prove to his red team companions he could have eaten Armo, and received the Heimlich as a result.

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The Peanut Butter Toast Incident (Miles Morales Unaware Vore)

I never promised I was posting these stories in order, mostly because the next story in the chronological order has 4 parts and I’m conflicted on sharing in parts as written or all in one piece. This was the first story I got a request for, and to my knowledge the first Miles Morales vore fic. This does contain unaware vore of a teenager, so be aware that’s below the cut. Enjoy! Or don’t, just please don’t burn me at the stake. I’ve got work tomorrow lol.

(We will say this takes place bedore the second one but after the first. Also Y/N for flavor points (which means your name). I know he has a roommate, but oh well. A Marvel plot with this plot was suggested by nickyjel123, and I figured I’d use my own Marvel pred “crush” [idk the term for preferred pred in a non-sexual way if there is one])

A normal morning in a dorm is, as you’d expect, usually plain and consists of mundane tasks one does to prepare themselves for a long, monotonous day of school work. Things like getting dressed, brushing teeth, preparing one’s backpack, making coffee in the communal kitchen or some cereal if you’re a baller. This is done with a level of grog often from bad sleep. For Miles Morales, this was that morning. Upon unceremoniously popping open his eyes due to a loud alarm and slowly stretching and making his way out of the bottom bunk, he began to get dressed in uniform, a typical suit that made him even more tired. Slowly, he lifted his pants onto his waist, weaved his black, slightly cracked leather belt through, and buttoned way too many buttons. Checking himself in the mirror, he had bags under his eyes from a study-filled night previously and his hair was somewhat greasy, although today Miles couldn’t be bothered to rectify his uncleanliness with anything but layers of deodorant and a spritz of gel. This was his appearance as he went through the door and towards the communal kitchen.

For Y/N though, this would be a morning that would live in infamy for its lack of luck and sheer stupidity that could rival certain programs on children’s cartoon programming. Upon awakening, Y/N popped up and slammed their head against the ceiling, causing a red circular mark to appear on their forehead. This awoke the folks in the dorm above them, who of all people were the worst ones to deal with. The particular gentleman involved in the forthcoming drama has chosen to remain anonymous, but shall henceforth be referred to by a fake name: Buford.

Buford was a STEM student pursuing the highest level of education offered at Brooklyn Visions Academy and in several of the same classes as Miles. Buford, however, was a rougher personality from old money who was not fond of Miles, but more importantly hated Y/N due to their pursuing of art and their more effeminate personality. He would often call Y/N names in passing or would steal their things and destroy them. This time though, he was in the mood to make Y/N’s day so much worse. See, his brother had created a device that could reduce matter to a fraction of its size, effectively shrinking it. Due to the nature of atoms, this effect would be temporary and last for a time that hasn’t quite been measured, but was less than 12 hours based on testimony.

This device was Buford’s way of payback: to shrink them so that hopefully they’d end up getting into hjinx. See, he doubted Y/N could be actually killed; the increased density of the atoms made the recipient of the shrinking much more resilient to things like falls or being stepped on. It would just suck and scare Y/N some. So, Buford set his action into plan and shot an orb into the floor vent, as the bouncing would inevitably lead to it reaching Y/N’s bed. The orb made a loud electric banging sound with each bounce, bouncing faster until it eventually sunk down the vent and directly onto Y/N’s sore head, making a splatting sound as it was absorbed into their hair follicles.

At first, Y/N found this to be an annoyance, slightly peeved that Buford had, at least in their mind, shot them with some sort of pellet. As they made his way to the ladder, they thought it might be a couple inches taller, but chalked it up to their grogginess and near-concussion a few moments prior. However, as they descended the ladder, they found that each step was farther away from their foot, until they had to leap off the bottom of the ladder. At this precise moment, they took a deep look around and started realizing what exactly was happening to them: shrinking, and at a pretty good rate. They noticed the details of the carpet become finer and finer, and eventually decently sized until each little follicle was up to their waist. Thankfully, their oversized shirt and pajamas had been afflicted by this orb’s atom reduction as well due to complicated things that we aren’t going to bother explaining because any attempt to do so would be so far off from logic, it would be a disservice to us and you.

As you’d expect when someone who’s usually decent height becomes a few inches tall, fear gripped their heart like a snapping turtle: unceasing and hard. At this moment, Y/N had nothing: no aid, no way to call for help, no method of finding anyone, and not much vocal power to even try. Some other factors included the fact that it was cleaning day, so someone would be in to vacuum them up, as well as it was a school day, so if they didn’t get help soon, they’d have to wait until 4, or later if Miles didn’t come back, as was a trend.

A trend that didn’t offer Y/N too many favors. Miles was pretty good at art, but Y/N couldn’t get pointers on theirs for often several days at a time. Typical schoolwork was not our protagonist’s strongest still, which made things even worse when help vanished from the dorm. They often had to find someone else to help them, which tended to be people who didn’t exactly know what they were teaching either.

However, it was the morning, and they knew that Miles would be eating peanut butter toast in the kitchen for an amount of time as he would often talk with a friend or two. If Y/N could make it over in time, they could get help. As quick as they could (which was honestly not bad pace), they ran off to the dorm commons.

Miles got distracted in the communal kitchen for a minute catching up on last-minute studying for a Physics exam that was inevitably going to nab him a decent grade. Whether this grade was up to scrutiny was another question. This setback didn’t matter too much; Miles tended to eat pretty quickly without his table manners being watched like a hawk by his parents. They had always done everything they could to raise Miles to become a model member of society: making sure he was putting in maximum effort into his work, learning life lessons, and other things that would keep him from a life of poverty and violence. Unfortunately, one lesson was not taught, a lesson that doesn’t matter nearly as much unless you’ve got an enemy around: check your food BEFORE you eat it. It was a lesson often learned by those with allergies and the picky eaters of our society, oftentimes the hard way for the latter who naturally assumed their sandwich wouldn’t have mayonnaise and made their server suffer for their lack of foresight. For those without that though, who cares?

Y/N panted, but as they looked up, an exhausted gasp emitted from them. Miles was gargantuan, his upper details barely visible from their view, but the smaller details of their shoes and legs were heightened. Every speck of sweat, every scratch and imperfection in the leather, every leg hair was visible as if it was under a magnifying glass. Those details were heightened at a level humanity often never gets to see. This daze that Y/N experienced didn’t last, as it was rudely shattered by the bellowing pop of the toaster.

Time was running out. Y/N found a stool and wrapped themselves around the leg of it, inching their way up like a caterpillar. After lots of pain, they managed to reach up onto the seat and pull themselves off. They jumped onto the handle of a drawer, but losing grip in one of their hands. Sweat from their hand transferred to the handle and loosened its grip too. Looking down, the hard tile promised a swift death to anyone who dared fall from such a height onto it. Closing his eyes, his grip let loose and he fell…

As Miles spread his peanut butter onto his toast, he thought about his roommate, Y/N. He heard a bang from their hall, and he wondered if it was Y/N banging their head hard or if it was Buford ding-dong-ditching him for the 2nd time this week. He was fully aware of the beef between the two, and hoped that he wouldn’t have to go to Buford’s again and risk losing their acquaintanceship. Then again, Y/N was a closer friend, so did he need to ditch Buford.

His thoughts lead the peanut butter toast to slip from the plate, landing upright below the handle of the drawer, exactly where Y/N fell. The timing was perfect, and Y/N survived by falling into the peanut butter. The impact still winded them for a moment, but they realized they were in this peanut butter. They didn’t realize yet that the peanut butter was slightly sticky.

Within the 5 seconds it fell, Miles gripped the toast, unaware of his roommate near the edge. A sense of vertigo fell upon Y/N as they rose up to Miles’ level. Their near-death accident not only had been prevented, it might nab them help. As loud as their baby little lungs could provide, they shouted out for Miles for assistance. Despite their effort however, their sound waves were unable to penetrate Miles’ large greasy ears, in part due to a loud fan keeping the air circulating in the room, an in part due to his minute size. At the very least, Miles’ eyes worked perfectly and hopefully would notice them waving their arms. It was with a degree of effort and their frustration that their arms had sunk into the thick, creamy peanut butter. Despite all of his effort into waving, they couldn’t penetrate the creamy butter. Their only hope was for Miles to spot them. To their utter fear, when Miles opened his mouth wide, revealing all of the details in their tongue and gums that they realized in fear that they had not been noticed. They couldn’t help but notice that his teeth were white and shiny, but sharp and somewhat pointy. The taste buds and other spots on his thick pink tongue were quite obvious at this size. Saliva coated it in a thin veneer, revealing Miles’ ravenous hunger. His throat looked healthy, with a lack of tonsils noticeable and his uvula being relatively short, not grabbable, that’s for sure. As their heart beat faster and faster with fear, Miles bit down on the bit of toast Y/N resided in. Quickly, Y/N was covered in moist toast and water-soaked peanut butter and was swished back and forth, somehow missing every single tooth that bit down on the clumps of food in Miles’ mouth. Hot, somewhat minty, somewhat rank breath filled the cavern and made the air stagnant. This was hell. Every single second that ticked by was filled with yelling and fear, filth and heat. Y/N screamed for help, begging Miles not to swallow. A wet sound rang through as their begging fell on deaf ears and they slid towards the awaiting opening to the throat.

Miles switched the fan off, and while continued chewing heard a familiar voice, extremely quiet but close at the same time. In order to hear this voice better, he decided to gulp down the food in his mouth, sending Y/N down the slick, wet tube known as the esophagus. He thought he had heard the voice say not to swallow, but he couldn’t imagine why.

Fear coursed through Y/N’s vains as the rhythmic gulping sent them further and further down the tube, squeezing them and keeping air from their chest, nearly making him pass out, until eventually they fell into the stomach, face first into the liquid below. This place was essentially a smelly sauna cranked. The place was immensely hot and stagnant, with a liquid smelling of acid hiked up to Y/N’s chest. White bubbles covered the walls like vines. Despite what they had just learned about the sulfuric acid present in the stomach, Y/N weirdly felt no pain or any other effect. It was just unbearably hot. They continued to yell, but were drowned out by the churning noises as the stomach processed the toast clumps next to him. Just when they thought this couldn’t be any more miserable, clumps of peanut butter and toast fell onto them and penetrated their already-ruined clothes and just made them feel even worse, as if the humidity couldn’t ruin their mood more.

Miles, finished with the meal, wondered what the voice had wanted him not to swallow for. It has sounded like Y/N, but it couldn’t have been them. Maybe it was his imagination or someone’s phone in the hall behind the wall they were facing. Around this time, Buford entered the room, eyeing Miles as he grabbed a protein shake from the fridge.

“Hey [Buford], have you seen Y/N this morning? I’m worried about them?” Miles inquired.

“No”, Buford said, giggling.

Miles didn’t believe Buford, saying, “Don’t lie to me. I know you two have something against each other. If you did something, I’m going to have to report you, and I don’t think that would be worth your time with how many warnings you’ve received already.”

Buford realized he wasn’t in the mood to go to the office despite the fact that his parents would make this charge go away like the others.

“Let’s just say my new atom reducer works…”, he replied, dashing away like a coward.

Miles, tired as he was, attempted to piece together everything in his mind. He wondered if Y/N had managed to get to him…

About this time is when he realized what had happened: he had somehow, someway, eaten Y/N. His closest friend here, he had just swallowed them, consumed them like they were nothing to him but just a garnish. Miles felt light-headed and a sense of vertigo at this moment and ran to the trash can, vomiting everything in his stomach out.

Around the time Buford came around, Y/N had gone from yelling to crying. They were now alone in this hell of an organ, with nobody knowing about this. He was going to die here, and nobody would even know what had happened. His tears were interrupted when the entire stomach sloshed to the side, knocking Y/N into the juices. The entire stomach squished up, and Y/N was shoved forcefully back up the tube and expelled past the uvula and every single tooth into the waste bin.

Miles quickly spotted Y/N and cupped them into his palm, hyperventilating and panicking.

“I’m so sorry dude, are you okay?! I’m so so sorry! I can’t believe I let this happen to you!”

Y/N replied hoarsely,

“It’s fine, I’m good,” Y/N replied, tears still stuck on their face indicating that they weren’t good at all. Miles grabbed a moist paper towel and washed Y/N off. This was an odd sensation. Here he was, holding his friend in his hand, cradling and protecting him in his most vulnerable position, like a baby is by their mother. Y/N felt like a baby, but felt nurtured and protected, cared about. Staring into Miles’ large spherical eyes, he saw Miles in a different way. More than a friend, but a protector, a caregiver, maybe even more. They almost didn’t want this moment to end.

Miles checked his watch and realized he was running out of time. Apologizing, he left Y/N on the dresser of the dorm with a granola bar and a cotton ball for a chair, and dashed out. Y/N was usually annoyed when Miles left him in times like this, irritated or just generally apathetic. But now, he wished that Miles would be there, not for his help, but for his presence and care. There was also the issue of their classes. They would have to miss them and had no alibi or excuse. Thankfully, Y/N generally had a good reputation and didn’t miss many classes, so punishment wouldn’t be that severe.

By the time Miles returned that afternoon, Y/N had returned to normal size, clearly having showered and changed clothes. They kinda looked cute in their Rolling Stones shirt and lounge pants, with their messy hair nearly covering their eyes. The situation earlier had been a nightmare for them both, and would be henceforth referred to as the “Peanut Butter Toast Incident”, but was more of a bonding experience for the two. Miles moved from peanut butter toast to other kinds of toast and refused to eat it with peanut butter up until the writing of this story at least.

We’d love to tell you that Buford changed or got any consequences for this, but nothing could be proven for sure. Burford improved none, as you’d expect. A few weeks later, due to separate circumstances, they did move a floor up in the dorms, but that’s about it.

As for Miles and Y/N, this was the start of a close relationship, whether platonic or romantic we don’t care to know. It was either way the start of something new between the two that started with Buford and some peanut butter toast.

Donkey Kong Scene Rewrite

This was originally published on Wattpad on February 8, 2024. Warning: Contains near vore and Mario movie spoilers under the cut, so um yeah, I can’t tell if it gets better or worse from here lol. Enjoy!

As Mario steps out into the blinding light, the deafening sound of hundreds of Kongs cheering rings in his ears. Or, now that he was regaining his senses, it sounded like booing. It was booing.

He’s starting to regret this.

The plan had been simple on paper: Travel with the princess and Toad to the Kong Kingdom, and beg for the assistance of the great Kong Army. In practice, though, this hadn’t worked out so well, and the gang had been denied. Mario, desperate for the help and for his brother to be saved, doubled down and refused to leave until they got said army, with the agreement being that Mario would fight the son of the mighty Cranky Kong.

Mario now stands idly, awaiting his challenger while the crowd lambasts him. Suddenly, silence filled the stadium as monstrous footsteps are heard from the large doors. Mario’s heart rate accelerates as his anticipation, fear, and regret grow immensely, sweat dripping down his face. With no further warning, like a frog on 5-Hour Energy, a large ape with a red tie bounces into the arena. Now, the crowd’s previously demeaning sound had become a sound of admiration.

Mario, hoping to find any sign of weakness, assesses his opponent. This large brown ape, now identified as Donkey Kong, is probably double his size. He wore a hairdo swirled like frosting, massive arms and pecs that could crush a cannonball. Around his neck was a red tie with “DK” embroidered in yellow. Immediately, he demolishes two barrels with his gargantuan fists.

I’m screwed.

“Enough with the showboating!”

Mario comes out of his daze just in time to encounter a glimpse into the dynamic between father and son and Donkey Kong’s current ego trip.

“What do you mean?!” Donkey Kong incredulously asks. “It’s what they came here for! Dancing pecs!”

The zealous ape then proceeds to flex his pecs, causing even more wild fanfare. In an attempt to get things started, Cranky Kong yells,

“Okay, simmer down. I said SIMMER DOWN!”

Once Diddy Kong gets the memo, Cranky begins to explain the rules. Mario listens intently.

“Now, since I want this fight to last more than five seconds, I put power ups around the arena. You’re welcome, Mario.”

“I don’t need anything special to break every bone in your tiny body!” Donkey Kong yells, killing most hope Mario has.

As the crowd cheers, most intelligent thought leaves the mind of our favorite red-clad plumber. A nervous laugh emits from him, followed by an “Alright” and a charge towards Donkey Kong. He jumps. He prepares a punch…

Only for Donkey Kong to slam his head against the faded red girder and repeatedly slap Mario in the face. Currently, Mario is in pain as each thick slap connects with his sensitive facial skin. Peach and Toad can only cringe in horror as their kingdom’s only hope is made into a fool before the crowd.

“Guess you’re not getting my army!” Cranky Kong confidently jests as the younger Kong kicks Mario in the stomach, sending him careening nearly off of the girder.

As Donkey Kong has his ego fed by the cheerful crowd, Mario, not about to be deterred, takes a moment to climb back up. Above the ape’s head, a glowing power up box glows. Mario forms an idea. If he can get the Super Mushroom, he can grow to Donkey Kong’s size, leveling the playing field. Unaware of the existence of other mushrooms, Mario begins running towards it.

“It is on like Donkey Kong” the other creature in the ring quips. However, despite his charge, he is unable to snatch the sly Mario, who slips under and grabs the mushroom in the box.

“You’re about to pick on someone your own size,” Mario ironically says, taking no notice of the color of the mushroom. Popping the foul-tasting mushroom into his mouth and quickly consuming it, Mario lets out a yell and begins charging towards Donkey Kong. He had not realized what literally every other soul there had: the mushroom was in fact the rare Mini Mushroom. Not often found in arena duels, this mushroom is the antithesis of the Super Mushroom: it shrinks instead of grows.

Mario slows as his war cry quickly becomes a war squeak. Shrinking to a miniature size, Mario quickly realizes how badly he’s screwed up. He’s now only a few inches tall and susceptible to damage from everything. The previously large ape is now a towering threat that had triple the advantage. He also has no way of reaching a power up.

Donkey Kong is initially surprised by this. He had been expecting an actual challenge from his oversight. Perhaps he shouldn’t have boasted. Oh, but now. Now his “opponent” was a bite-sized nuisance with no defense.

The ape bends his head down to Mario’s level and emits a giggle. Mario’s heart rate is currently running a 500-yard dash as his fight or flight instinct came in. What little rationality he had at this point chose flight. Mario fruitlessly scurries away as in three bounds, the massive Kong bounces Mario into his palm.

As he now gazes into the endless spheres of black known as the eyes of Donkey Kong, his flesh turns white and a cold sweat overtakes his hot, tired sweat. No bullying from his old bully Spike, no misadventures he’d faced, not even any of the previous events today could ever live up to the megalophobia Mario is currently facing.

Meanwhile, Donkey Kong is smiling at his newfound plaything. What would be the best course of action? How can I knock out his sense of determination while putting myself on a pedestal? I wish I had eaten breakfast…

With the new silence from a crowd awaiting anything, a new sound cuts through Mario’s miniscule ears.

The deep, gargled growling of Donkey Kong’s stomach.

Slowly, a thought enters Mario’s mind. A horrifying thought, similar to the epiphany the Kong is having, that’s just accelerating as the spheres he looks into dilate.

He’s going to eat me.

A thought that would become reality as Donkey Kong’s lips parted, revealing the dark, moist, cavernous interior of his mouth. His tongue pulsates in anticipation, and his hot breath falls upon our plumber, the smell having the faint scent of rotting banana.

Only pure primordial thoughts (and perhaps Ave Maria) could be conjured up as Mario is tossed, flying into a divot created by the ape’s tongue. He’s then pushed against the hard roof of the maw, being savored. He could only yell as he went further into the cave.

On the outside, Donkey Kong’s mind is racing with intrusive thoughts.

I’m really about to swallow an opponent!

My fans are going to enjoy this.

This is the taste of victory.

This was a mistake. Mario is soaking in salt. Donkey Kong doesn’t like salt.

Back with the snack, the tasting muscle keeps quivering, trying to push Mario away from the gaping hole at the back. Mario can feel every twitch of regret, the physical manifestation of second thoughts. He can tell Donkey Kong is attempting to swallow him, to be able to revel in the victory of defeating his opponent in the single most humiliating way: to turn a threat into just a morsel, a snack, to make the saying “He’ll eat you for lunch” literal.

(Not that the ape would truly consume him. After all, this was just for show. He was just going to regurgitate him anyway, and throw him out of the kingdom to fend for himself like the tiny thing he was).

And yet, these second thoughts keep Mario in a pool of salty saliva, preventing him from going down the ever-so-close throat. Hope begins to simmer in Mario’s mind that he will be freed instead of going into the stomach.

Donkey Kong is struggling. The pressure pushing him on, but his body simply not having it. The wish to entertain isn’t able to beat the rejection of the salty body suspended on his tongue. Eventually, the overriding of instinct fails. Mario is spat straight into the ground with a patootie and returns to normal from the impact. Despite all of the digestive fluids soaking him and everything on him, that sense of determination he’d always had returns.

The crowd, while disappointed that Mario wasn’t stewing in their hero’s guts, are certainly happy that Mario has been thoroughly shamed. Victory for Donkey Kong is still likely. Unfortunately for Kong, despite all of the fear Mario’s just faced, all of the embarrassment in front of the princess, all of the failures so far, Mario chooses to continue fighting…

The Introductory Post

Hey everyone! I’m tefifonconnoisseur (or tefi if you want), and I’m here to write SFW vore fanfiction, maybe G/T. I’ve been posting on Wattpad since February and have a request drive going there, although you can also request things here. I have a list of stories to write anyway, might as well.

Typically, I prefer to write for fandoms I’m familiar with for the sake of writing in character, so as an example, while I have to admit Bakugou has pred energy, I don’t know enough to write for him. Fandoms I’m familiar with and will write for include (but aren’t limited to) Mario, Sonic (I’ve written for the movies for these), TMNT, lots of Disney and Nickelodeon, Courage the Cowardly Dog, The Hollow, Pokémon, TF2, Marvel, DC, the Wild Kratts, other PBS Kids shows pre-2016, and Harry Potter. I prefer male preds to female personally, but like idk

What I’ll write:

*Giant/Tiny

*Oral Vore (Soft and Safe)

*Most tropes (Fearplay, fluff, unwilling or willing pred and/or prey, unaware, food/drinkplay, and most others)

What I won’t write:

*Non-oral Vore

*Hard and/or Fatal Vore

*Full Tour

*Real People, seriously, no

*Characters whose voice actors have passed away for some reason

*Characters under the age of 14 (I’m willing to age up certain characters, but depends usually).

For a moment, I’ll just be reposting stuff from Wattpad. I will post stories on both platforms.