Need Sfw Vore Fics Recommendations, Doesn't Matter If Original Or Fanfic.

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)

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!

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.

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.

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.

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!