This is part four of my semi-autobiographical “inspired-by-true-events” series.
Part 1: "Montana" http://www.voreplay.com/index.php?topic=5250.0
Part 2: "New York City" http://www.voreplay.com/index.php?topic=5296.0
Part 3: "Albany" http://www.voreplay.com/index.php?topic=5437.0
GERMANY (FS, O, DIGESTION)
Pushing my pillow away, I tilted my head up again. It was unmistakable. Someone was knocking at my door. I rolled over and checked my clock.
“7am? Who the hell is banging on my door at 7am?” I thought as I fumbled to find my glasses.
The mysterious visitor knocked again.
“Coming! Hold on just a—“ I shouted, struggling to throw on a shirt. My belly had grown considerably larger since my trip to Albany the month before and everything was tight. As I walked to my front door, I could feel the cool air brushing against my exposed underbelly.
I checked the peep hole and immediately recoiled.
A cop. A cop was knocking at my door at 7am. My heart began to race.
“Calm down. Just stay calm. He doesn’t know anything don’t tell him.” I took a deep breath. And opened the door.
Standing in front of me was a handsome Chicago Police Officer. About 6-foot, no more than 30 years old. He had dark features and thick, bushy eyebrows.
“Sir, I’m Officer Ramirez with the Chicago Police Department. We’re assisting the FBI with a missing persons case and I would like to ask you a few questions. May I come in?”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.
“Stay calm,” I thought. “Don’t let on that you’re nervous.” And then out loud: “Of course. That sounds serious. Please do.”
I ushered Officer Ramirez into my living room. It wasn’t terribly clean, but then again, I wasn’t expecting a visit from Chicago’s finest an hour after sunrise. I tried my best to shake my sleepiness and appear effortlessly charming.
“Would you like something to drink? Some water or coff—“
“—No thank you. This shouldn’t take long.”
Whew. If he had enough evidence to arrest me, we wouldn’t be having a short chat here in my living room.
“We’re looking into the disappearance of a young man in Montana,” he said flashing a photo that I instantly recognized as the sweet young boy who’d been my first meal almost a year ago.
“Oh no! Jeff? What’s happened to him?” I blurted out, quickly deciding it was safer to admit knowing him than pretending not to. There was, after all, a reason this officer chose to come to my door and denial would only make me look dishonest.
“Well that’s what we’re trying to find out. It looks like a runaway case. He was a bit troubled and had tried to run away a few times before…”
Thank God. When I left Montana with Jeff digesting away in my belly, I made sure to pack some clothes and take his things to make it appear as if he’d run away.
“Do you know where Jeff is?”
As he asked the question I noticed my hand had been slowly rubbing my belly, as if trying to betray me and alert the officer to Jeff’s whereabouts. Of course I knew where Jeff was. He was right there. A part of my belly. Nothing more than 4 or 5 inches of belly fat by now.
“No sir. Haven’t heard from him in ages, honestly,” I lied.
“When would you say was the last time you saw or heard from him?”
Honest answer? When I heard him gurgling in my stomach after having him for dinner. But I couldn’t very well tell Officer Ramirez that. My brain buzzed with conflicting thoughts. Do I make up a story? Embellish on reality? Tell him the truth?
I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I had to line up my story as closely as possible to reality, without giving away the whole devouring him whole and turning him into belly fat part. Anything else would be too risky.
“Must’ve been about a year ago I think. We talked on the phone and he seemed kind of upset about something.” I felt bad lying about Jeff, but I had to cover my tracks. “He’d started doing drugs more and he started to get weirder and more detached before that. I guess I’d just thought he found a new group of friends. I hope he’s okay.”
“He probably is. Guys like Jeff run away all the time. We just have to do our due diligence and try to re-unite him with his family.”
Fat chance of that.
“Oh yes, of course officer. I understand.”
We both went silent. I noticed his eyes glance down at my rotund belly, which was now completely hanging out the bottom of my shirt.
“Well my apologies for coming so early. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“No problem at all” I said as I calmly led him to the door. “If I hear from Jeff I’ll be sure to contact the CPD.”
As I reached out to open the door, he put his arm out and stopped.
“Just one more question, if you don’t mind. What is vore?”
Fuuuucckkkkkkk. My heart raced. My mind swelled. I felt like an overloaded computer—completely frozen and stuck in limbo, unable to move or shutdown, my jaw hanging agape.
“I mean, we found some chat logs on Jeff’s parents’ computer and the word vore came up a couple times…”
He was playing dumb, but even a low-grade cop knew how to Google shit. I couldn’t deny any of it. I had to call his hand. I stammered at first.
“Well—it’s a… bit embarrassing to talk about. But it’s… well it’s a sort of kink—a fantasy really. Pure fantasy. That it would be fun to be able to… swallow—well to swallow… to swallow someone whole.”
Officer Ramirez looked thoroughly unshocked.
“OK cool. That’s what I found online as well, just wanted to make sure,” he said, smiling slightly.
“Obviously it’s just a fantasy. I mean, I’m big, but not big enough to fit a whole person inside here!” I said as I slapped my belly.
Officer Ramirez leaned forward and patted my gut. “I wouldn’t sell yourself so short. I’d say you’re big enough for it!”
I stood there in utter silence for a moment. My nervous system was paralyzed. After what felt like an eternity of silence, the tension was broken by his laughter.
“I’m just teasing ya big guy. No hard feelings. Hey, if I come across any folks and need to verify if Jeff knew them, would you mind if I e-mailed you?”
“S-sure,” I said, pulling out my wallet and struggling to snag a business card. My hands were sweaty and my heart was still racing. I handed it to Officer Ramirez.
“Thank you kindly. Now, don’t go gobbling up any boys on me. Would hate to have to arrest someone for aggravated dining!”
This time we both laughed.
“I can’t make any promises!” I said, still laughing. It was the most honest thing I’d said to Officer Ramirez.
I closed the door, locked it and immediately plopped down on the couch. I had a meal lined up in Michigan and another one in the works in Arkansas but I’d need to cancel them immediately. I had to lie low.
“No more eating boys for a while,” I thought. Just then my stomach led out an audible growl. I was growing hungrier each time I ate someone and now my stomach had started craving a live meal with alarming regularity. I couldn’t wait a whole year just to have another proper meal. Not now.
“I can’t. I can’t risk it,” I reasoned. “The police are investigating Jeff and if they link Tom or that guy in Albany back to me, I’m screwed. Police departments are all working together and they can find me even if I’m states away.”
My belly gurgled again. And then an idea popped into my head: Europe.
Who could possibly connect a few missing European boys to the missing American ones I’d already gobbled up? And by the time I got back, things would have cooled down and I could switch back to an American diet.
As I sat on the couch, I smiled and rubbed my grumbling belly. I’d always wanted to try authentic German food.
The plane touched down in Cologne in the early morning. I’ve never been able to sleep on planes, but certainly not with a rumbling stomach. The in-flight meal felt like a paltry snack compared to what was in store. I spent the last half of the flight sizing up the lithe male flight attendant. But my brain knew better.
“This trip is about minimizing risk. Not exposing yourself to the world,” I thought. Still the idea of devouring his pert body in the lavatory and struggling to emerge from the confined space with a writhing belly made me hungry.
As we waited in line for customs, another American chatted me up. Hank, or Hal or something like that.
“So this is your first time in Cologne? Well you’ve got try the local beerhouses. They are superb,” Hank said, rambling on about the finer points of Kolsch beer.
Had I been on a normal vacation, I would have been more likely to engage his friendly line of conversation—but this was no ordinary vacation.
“I hate to break it to you, but Cologne isn’t really the prettiest city in Europe. What made you want to come here first?”
He seemed genuinely curious.
“The food,” I responded dryly.
Technically, I wasn’t lying. True, I’d never felt the desire to visit Cologne. Cities like Berlin and Amsterdam and Prague had captured my imagination, but Cologne? No, the only reason I was in Cologne was in fact the food. Or to be more specific, Marco.
I’d chatted with Marco for years. He’s one of those guys who isn’t shy about his desire to be eaten. His profile pic on Grommr features his body oiled and curled up, surrounded by vegetables, on display like a delectable Thanksgiving turkey. Not exactly subtle.
When I realized I’d need to lay low for a while and start sourcing my food outside the U.S., Marco was my first thought.
After getting through customs and shaking my uncommonly friendly American, I made my way into the city. I’d rented a large Airbnb apartment in the center of the city for a few days. I wanted the freedom to relax and enjoy digesting Marco, and a tiny European hotel room just seemed too claustrophobic.
The apartment turned out to be gorgeous. A modern duplex with huge glass windows, it looked like something out of a European design magazine. After dropping my bags I wandered from room to room, wondering where I’d be able to comfortably sit with a belly full of Marco.
I was a little shocked by how detached I’d become from the horrors of eating someone. Rather than fretting about whether it was right to remove Marco from this earth and turn him into bellyfat, my biggest concern was whether the sectional couch would provide enough comfort for my gurgling belly.
The truth was, my moral compass had been slipping ever since I ate Jeff. I wasn’t even nervous about Marco becoming my dinner. In fact, for the first time, I was unabashedly excited about a meal. I hadn’t had a proper live meal in months and my now-fatter belly was craving meat. 184 pounds of Marco sounded just right.
It was only 11am and I had 7 hours before my dinner would arrive. I took a quick shower and laid down for a nap. I wouldn’t want my first proper German meal to be disturbed by jet lag.
My short nap turned into something else entirely. I awoke in a daze, scrambling for the clock. It was 5:30pm. Marco would arrive soon and I needed to get myself ready. I changed into what I’d established as my boy-eating clothes—a pair shorts with an elastic waist and a shirt with plenty of room to expand. As hot is was to watch my rapidly filling belly wreck a shirt, it was annoying to have to keep replacing my wardrobe.
My stomach was rumbling by now. I’d spent too much time fantasizing about the flight attendant and now it was downright eager to be filled to the max. Just then the doorbell rang. I made my way over and opened it.
There in front of me stood a handsome young man—thick, but not fat, with a sweetly submissive stare.
“H- hi,” Marco stuttered. I could tell he was overwhelmed at the sight of me. Guys have been telling me I look bigger in person for a while, and I’ve come to enjoy the shocked look when they first take in my expanse.
“Please, come in,” I said, stepping aside so Marco could enter. I made sure to leave just enough room for him to have to squeeze past my belly as I closed the door.
“Ooof, sorry about that! This tank sure does fill a room doesn’t it?”
Marco instinctively put his hands on the side of my gut, himself partially pinned to the hallway wall.
“It’s so… so… huge,” he said, completely mesmerized by my gut.
Just then it rumbled, erupting into a full belch. The blast took him by surprise.
“Hey you hear that? That means he likes you. I think you’re gonna fit inside him nicely,” I said. I could feel my stomach preparing for the meal. Gone were the days when I hemmed and hawed about my meal beforehand. I spent two days with Jeff before eating him and here was Marco, just in the door and my stomach already craved him.
“You think so? I guess I will fit in there,” he said, still entranced.
“Why don’t we move into the dining room,” I said. “That’s where dinner belongs.”
Marco chuckled and we moved into the dining room where a large rectangular table sat in the middle. I used my belly to bump Marco until his butt was up against the lip of the table. He was still lost in my belly, touching its sides and struggling to form words.
I used my gut to push Marco up until he was sitting on the table. I knew he liked being treated like food and I was more than happy to treat him like the piece of meat he was.
“Mmmmmmm, you’re gonna make one helluva meal!” I said, leaning in to start tasting his neck. He instantly moaned in pleasure. For the first time he was being tasted.
“I hope you find me delicious,” he squeaked out between moans.
“Oh most definitely,” I said, removing his shirt so I could taste the rest of him. “I think I like German food.”
I felt Marco’s dick flex into my belly the second I called him ‘food.’
“You like that? You like being food, Marco,” I said as I started to lick his chest.
“Oh God, yes! I am food!” he shouted. “I’m just here to be eaten!”
My tongue continued to explore his mid-section. “Well that’s good. Because my belly is rather hungry and my in-flight meal wasn’t filling enough. I think I need something much more filling,” I said, grabbing his thick ass for emphasis.
“Oh God!” he moaned. A lifetime of fantasies was coming true for Marco.
I unbuckled his pants and started to pull them off him when I noticed something in the pocket. It was a container. I looked at Marco, curiously.
“Oh that’s just a little… Barbeque sauce. I thought maybe you’d like…”
What a considerate meal he was. Bringing his own seasoning to make swallowing him that much more pleasurable for me.
“I think it’s just what you need,” I said, grinning. I took the bottle out and unscrewed the cap. Marco was now sitting naked on the table, looking like the most delicious morsel. I began to pour the sauce on his shoulders.
“Oooh!” Marco blurted out. “It’s cold.”
“Well don’t you worry about that. Cause you’ll be nice and warm inside my gut,” I said, spreading the barbeque sauce across his chest and torso. “God damn if you don’t look like the most perfect serving of meat I’d ever seen.”
Marco was rock hard. Clearly this boy had been living his entire life waiting for the moment he could be treated like a piece of meat, seasoned and devoured. And now he was finally getting his chance. I’m sure the fact he was about to end up in a greedy American belly only made him more aroused.
“Well I don’t know about you,” I said, staring into Marco’s timid eyes. “But I’m awfully hungry. And I have a rule that says anything on the kitchen table is food and shouldn’t go uneaten.”
Marco stared right back. “W-well, I guess that means… I’m your dinner.”
“I guess it does, Marco.” I took one last lick across his neck. This time he was flavored with the barbeque sauce and tasted perfect. “Mmmmmmm, tender and meaty, just the way I like it.”
Marco was now touching his throbbing dick. I realized I’d need to move quick. If he came too soon, he might come to his senses and ask to stop—or worse, fight his way out. I quickly moved down to his feet, unhooking my jaw and stretching it as I fed his feet into my mouth.
“Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re doing that!” Marco said as he beat his dick faster. My mouth quickly moved up his legs, slurping him up to his sauce-covered thighs. The boy tasted incredible.
“I didn’t think it was possible!” Marco proclaimed. But his intonation implied that he was excited to see that it was. He was beating his dick furiously now and I knew I needed to act fast to lock down this meal.
I heaved forward, engulfing his thick thighs and pulling his dick into my mouth. In that moment, I could feel Marco seizing and knew he was about to blow his load. Suddenly my mouth filled with flavor as the writhing German boy half-way down my throat climaxed.
“Ohhhhhh God! Yes!” he shouted in pure ecstasy.
I wouldn’t have much time before he came to his senses, so without missing a beat I pushed Marco back so he was laying flat on the table and took another huge gulp, this time swallowing his plump ass and his rich, meaty torso.
He really was delicious. Like a perfect serving of German pork. I wanted to tell him so much, but it would have to wait until the meal was over.
I managed to get one more gulp in—pulling Marco up to his chest—before he regained his focus.
“Oh hey, you should probably… stop,” he said, hesitantly.
Ugh. Food. First this boy wants nothing more than to be eaten and now he wants out.
A year ago this is where I would have probably reversed course and let him go, but not today. Today, I’d flown halfway around the world for 184 pounds of bratwurst and I was gonna get my fill. I put my hands on Marco’s shoulders and pulled his chest into my mouth.
Now only his shoulders, arms and head was outside. I regretted not pinning his arms down sooner as he immediately started to use them to try and free himself.
“Stop! Please, wait. I don’t want to do this anymore!” Marco plead. I didn’t fucking care. I’m not gonna take mercy on a pizza so why the fuck would I take mercy on this German kid. This guy spent every day of his life dreaming of being food for a greedy bigger man and now it was finally happening—he should have been thanking me!
Suddenly Marco’s arms were pushing against my head and shoulders, desperately trying to find leverage. Thankfully the barbeque sauce was working against him, preventing him from getting a good enough grip to fight me.
Foiled by his own seasoning.
The more he flailed, the less I saw him as a poor guy deserving of sympathy and the more I saw him as an adversary. The only thing standing between me and a belly full of writhing German meat was Marco. He needed to be polished off. NOW.
This whole meal I’d been eating Marco off the kitchen table, but the time for formalities was over. I needed gravity.
In one move, I heaved my body into a standing positing while thrusting my belly onto the table where Marco had just been. The single motion sent Marco’s shoulders into my throat, leaving only his head and arms outside my mouth.
The rest of Marco was making its way into my belly, which was now mercifully resting on the kitchen table.
“Wait! Don’t! I don’t want to be eaten!” Marco cried out in a final plea. What a crock of shit. This is the guy whose profile picture is literally him being prepared and served on a platter. This is a guy who’s dick throbs when you call him ‘food’. I understand the will to survive, but now this meal with cold feet was getting on my nerves.
I placed my hand on his head and gently caressed his cheek.
“Oh yes, see! See, I’m alive. I’m real. You just need to let me—mmmpfffffmmmff“
His head disappeared down my throat as I shoved it down, his words transforming into muffled cries that were indistinguishable. His arms, now pinned together, slid down rapidly, like two strands of spaghetti getting sucked into my greedy mouth.
In mere seconds, Marco was gone. I was watched as the rest of Marco slid down my throat into my now-expanding belly, which filled the kitchen table. Where only minutes ago had sat a barbeque-sauce-covered young man now sat an enormous mound of a belly containing him.
Ah fuck. The relief from that belch was incredible. I watched as Marco’s form clearly shifted in my stomach, slowly curling into the most comfortable position—a ball. Conveniently, the most comfortable position for him was also the most comfortable one for me.
I stood in the kitchen clutching my belly. THIS. This is what I’d been craving. I wanted a meal to truly satisfy me and now I had 184 pounds of German meat stewing in my belly.
“Oooof! Thanks for dinner, Marco! You were right, the local cuisine here really is incredible!” I said, belching as if to accentuate the point. BAAARRRUUUUUUPPPPPPPPP!
I could see Marco still struggling and realized I’d need to start processing the boy quickly if I wanted to avoid a night of indigestion. I placed my hands under my distended belly, cradling it as best I could, and made my way to my pre-selected digestion spot.
As I walked, my belly swayed with Marco inside it. I’m sure he was scared and confused. He clearly was caught off guard that I could actually eat him. He probably didn’t expect to be eaten alive—at least not in reality. There’s probably a lesson in there: Be careful what you wish for or some such shit.
I plopped down on the couch, and felt my Marco-filled belly spread out before me.
“What a fucking pig you are,” I thought. “You just had to eat the entire boy for dinner didn’t you?”
A thought that used to horrify me now seemed completely banal. Of COURSE I had to eat Marco. He had covered himself in barbeque sauce and sat on the kitchen table—he presented himself as food. It would have been rude of me not to devour him whole.
A massive belch rumbled across the house. I knew what that meant. I could feel the juices in my stomach starting to flow. Marco was going to start losing consciousness soon and then my stomach would go to work on him, transforming his 184 pounds of German meat into inches of pure American belly fat.
My dick jumped. I moved my arm to touch it, but something was stopping me. I looked down and realized: My belly was too big. Marco was filling me so completely that I couldn’t even properly finish off the night with a jerk off session.
I was so horny. Here I was digesting a German boy alive, dripping with pre-cum and yet I’d cock-blocked myself. I thought about trying to find a local guy who might want to blow me, but I’d have an awful hard time explaining why my belly was so freakishly distended and why it was occasionally moving and even crying out for help. And there sure as hell wasn’t room in there for another live boy. Not just yet, anyway.
Then I got an idea. I started to rock my belly back and forth gently. I watched as its wide expanse moved to and fro, rocking the soon-to-be-digesting Marco, who immediately began to struggle again. It was working. I could feel my underbelly rubbing against my dick and Marco’s renewed struggles added to the sensation.
“Fuck,” I thought. “My first German meal and he was fucking perfect. Plump and tender in all the right ways.”
I placed a hand on my rocking belly, which continued to rub my dick and spoke to Marco. “Hey man, just wanted to say thanks for being—” my words were interrupted by an enormous belch. BURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPP. “—oof. For being my first meal in Europe. You were absolutely right by the way. The barbeque sauce was exactly the right flavor.”
I could feel myself close to climax. For some reason, talking to the boy curled up in my belly turned me on even more. I could feel his struggles weakening with each passing second. The air was growing stale and digestion had begun. Marco was truly food now and he’s be doing what food does inside a belly—digesting.
“I'm sorry you fought it so hard, Marco. Don't worry. My belly's gonna take good care of you. You’re right where you belong.”
I felt an explosion as my dick shot across the underside of my belly and the floor in front of me. Ribbons of cum erupted as I held my belly and watched as my dinner began to churn and digest. “Marco,” I thought as the last of my climax subsided. “You were delicious.”
I leaned back and listened to the groans and gurgles of my belly hard at work. This part was no longer new to me. My stomach had handled big meals like Marco before and I knew this serving of meat would be no difference.
Still it was wildly enjoyable and I relaxed with one-hand on my massive hairy belly and slowly drifted off to sleep. I knew that by morning most of what had been Marco would be digested and he really would be no different than the other food I’d eaten. I smiled at the thought.
“Now that I’ve sampled German cuisine,” I thought “I really ought to try French food next.”
My belly gurgled loudly as if in agreement.
“Guess I’m heading to Paris.”