TF2 Engineer Vore - Armos Destimulation Station

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.

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)

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 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!

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.

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!