Tumblr 1000% Knows What Theyre Doing. I Would Be Shocked If They Didnt. Strangely Enough, I Dont Think

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.

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!

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.

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)

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.

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.