I pace the room, my heart pounding with the force of a thousand drums. I think about how insane I must be, and whether or not I should go through with it. If I don’t, then I have nothing to worry about. I can go on living my life, just as I’ve always done. But if I do go through with it—well, then that’s it...
I glance down at my phone, trying to ignore the twisting knots in my stomach. The words “HUNGR: A VORE DATING APP” headline the top of the screen, and every hair on my body stands on end as my thumb hovers hesitantly over the “JOIN” button.
I press it.
Shit, what am I thinking? This is crazy. I can’t possibly go through with this. Too crazy. Crazy, right?
Before I know it, I’m filling out every blank line on the app’s profile template.
BODY TYPE: SLENDER
BODY HAIR: SOME
I pause when I come to the next line. My fingers hover nervously over the phone’s keypad, my heart picks up more speed. I can feel the knots in my stomach tighten even more. My armpits begin to sweat.
Holy shit, am I really doing this? I think to myself. The world around me has faded away—the episode of American Dad on the TV, the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, the car alarm sounding just outside my apartment balcony—all of it nothing more than a blur of color and muffled noise. I am consumed by my thoughts...by my obsession.
I continue filling out my profile.
HAIR COLOR: BROWN
EYE COLOR: BLUE
FACIAL HAIR: GOATEE
I fly through the questionnaire at record speed—not even my Grindr profile was filled out with this much gusto! But then I come to a sudden, stomach-lurching pause, quite the same as slamming on your breaks at a nearly-missed stoplight. In my chest, my heart ticks like a bomb that could detonate at any moment. I draw a deep breath. Exhale.
You can do this, I tell myself. You can do this, James.
Nervous, or perhaps excited—sometimes it’s hard to distinguish between the two—I press on.
PRED OR PREY: PREY
As I type the words, tiny bolts of electricity fire throughout my body. It suddenly occurs to me that I’ve never revealed this part of myself to anyone before.
I am besieged by a storm of emotions: jubilation, euphoria, relief, surprise, excitement, arousal, fear. It’s as though I’ve admitted something deeply personal about myself to the whole world, something that once uttered can never be taken back.
DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE: SUB
PREFERRED GENDER: MALE
PREFERRED GENDER’S SEXUAL ORIENTATION: DOESN’T MATTER
Only a few more questions to go and...
My heart thumps sharply inside me as I come to the next section. I can’t seem to breathe. My eyes focus on the words that have come on the screen in front of me. I read and understand them, but my brain can’t begin to fathom what they imply.
The words are: ON-MENU or OFF-MENU?
I feel my throat suddenly tighten up. I want to swallow, but I can’t. My heart is pounding, my stomach is clenching. But still, there is a stirring somewhere deep in my body.
In the vore community, people who identify as prey fall under one of two categories: on-menu and off-menu. Those who claim to be “off-menu” do not consent to being eaten. While they may identify as prey, they like in the ideaof being eaten, but not the reality of it. However, preys who are so-called “on-menu”—preys like me—have a genuine desire to end up in someone’s belly. I learned this by following several different vore bloggers over the past two years.
I force myself to respond to the question. I click the “ON-MENU”option and say a silent “Fuck” under my breath.
Based on everything I’ve read about the new HUNGR app, I know that a lot of preys create profiles and select “OFF-MENU”. Most of them want to participate in the vore community. They want to be drooled over. They want to be gawked at from a safe distance. But they don’t want to be eaten. After all, being eaten means...
I close my eyes and shake my head. No, I think to myself. I don’t want to simply chat with preds about how exciting it would be to be eaten. I want to actually—
My heart shudders. My stomach lurches. The idea is both too invigorating and too terrifying to grasp. It’s as though my mind won’t allow me to entertain both emotions at once.
I scroll through HUNGR’s terms and conditions—something about how they can’t be sued in the likely event of my death, yeah yeah, blah blah blah—click agree, and move on to uploading my profile picture.
I peruse the photos on my phone until I locate a selfie that I took of myself earlier in the summer. In the picture, I am standing in front of my bathroom mirror in my underwear, smirking. The picture shows off my personality—I’ve been told I have a cute, boyish charm. It also shows off my body a little (without giving too much away), which is what the preds will want to see.
I post it as my main pic and I add a few more. Then, with a deep breath, I activate my HUNGR profile.
Holy shit...holy shit...holy shit...I can’t believe I just did that...holy shit!
I begin to pace the room, trying to settle my nerves. My mind is racing. My stomach is a giant, tangled knot. And still, there is a heat rising up inside me. It is centered on my groin, and it is growing hotter and hotter, like a wildfire spreading.
Out of curiosity, I begin to scroll through the other profiles. It’s amazing how many people are on the app. Most of them are male. I remember reading an article once that talks about how there are more males than females in the vore community. Apparently, it has something to do with evolution and the fact that the human population doesn’t need as many males as it does females in order to thrive. Hence, mostly males have developed the vore kink. Especially gay males.
I continue scrolling through.
Most of the profiles seem to belong to preys. I click on one, just out of curiosity. It has a pic of a guy who looks to be about my age. He has light blond hair and blue eyes. He is standing in front of a bathroom mirror, holding his phone up for a selfie, smiling. He’s a good-looking guy. Behind him, in the mirror’s reflection, his bare ass is showing.
I read through his profile. He is 23, 5’8”, and 160lbs. According to his profile, he is a student at the local university. For his profile’s heading, he has written: GAY & PREY…WANNA BE DECOMPOSIN’ IN YO GUT!! This is followed by a series of emojis, including the skull and poop emojis.
I move on to another profile. It is the profile of BEATMEUP124. It shows the pic of a balding, middle-aged man with glasses and a salt-and-pepper beard. He identifies as a prey, and he is heavily involved in the S&M community. His profile’s heading reads: BEAT ME UP AND SWALLOW ME DOWN. There are several pics of him being tied up and blind-folded. There is one image where he is strapped down on a bed, spread-eagle, and naked. In this image, his dick is at full-mast, pointing straight up to his belly, and his scrotum has recently shaved. He has a blind-fold over his eyes and there are red marks all across his belly, indicating that he’s been flogged. What is more intriguing about BEATMEUP124’s profile is that, on every picture, there is a watermark that says: EATEN.
I swipe back to the profile’s landing-page. I notice a disclaimer that has been posted by an admin. It reads: THIS USER HAS BEEN EATEN – PROFILE WILL TERMINATE IN 12 DAYS.
Curious, I scroll down to the bottom of BEATMEUP124’s profile where other users can leave comments. And just as I hoped, there was a comment left by the user GINGERPREDMAN that said, “ate Derek last night after we had some bondage-fun…haven’t felt this stuffed in a loooong time!”
I reach down between my legs. I am throbbing.
Then, my phone dings! No, it’s not a text message. And no, I didn’t receive an email. This was, without a doubt, a message on HUNGR. Eager, I swipe over to my messages.
“Hey there!” the message reads. Next to it is a picture of a heavy-set man wearing a baseball cap. His username was BELLYMAN01.
I tap his photo, which takes me straight to his profile. BELLYMAN01 is 54-years-old, about six feet tall, and slightly pudgy—your typical Midwesterner. Noticeably, he is also straight.
There is a stirring inside me. The idea of a straight guy expressing interest in me has always been...well, arousing.
There are a lot of straight guys who identify as preds, and many of them seek out other guys to eat (either because there aren’t enough women willing to be eaten or because they don’t want to eat women when they can fuck them instead). I even heard of some straight guys who like to eat gay guys because they’re homophobic and want to rid the world of gays. (Although, I would say the joke’s on them, because for most gay guys who are into vore, being eaten is a very sexual experience.) For these straight fellas, however, eating someone isn’t a sexual thing. It is, instead, about nourishment. It’s no different to them than ordering a pizza on a Friday night.
As I scan BELLYMAN01’s profile, another ding! sounds. I swipe back to my message inbox.
GOBBLRBULL2017 has written, “Howdy.” He is a strapping, 48-year-old man with a barrel chest and broad shoulders. A black goatee darkens his chin and an unmistakable nose-piercing gleams on his face. Gauging by his profile picture, he’s more attractive than BELLYMAN01.
“Any more pics?” he writes.
I feel a teasing sensation in my groin.
Giddy with nervous excitement, I sit down and swipe through my phone. I send him a photo of me that was taken earlier that month. In the picture, I am wearing a plaid shirt and revealing some of my newly-grown chest hair. I would have sent him follow-up pics of my junk and of my ass, but his profile doesn’t specify if he’s sexually interested in guys.
“Good-lookin fella,” GOBBLRBULL2017 writes. “Look tasty.”
I entertain BELLYMAN01 and GOBBLRBULL2017 and several other preds for a few minutes. My heart pounds the whole time. Most of the preds I come across are straight, or bisexual. A lot of middle-agers online tonight. Which I don’t mind one bit…I’ve always been into daddies.
DING! I swipe back to my inbox and find a message from someone named RICK13. “Damn you’re cute” the message says.
A quick glance as his profile pic shows me that RICK13is a silver, middle-aged man. But he’s fiercely handsome. I click on his profile.
BODY TYPE: TONED
BODY HAIR: SOME
HAIR COLOR: GRAY
EYE COLOR: GRAY
FACIAL HAIR: YES
PRED OR PREY: PRED
DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE: DOM
PREFERRED GENDER: MALE
PREFERRED GENDER’S SEXUAL ORIENTATION: DOESN’T MATTER
I can feel myself sweating. My heart pounds hard and fast. I click through RICK13’s pictures. He is a large, wolfish man with soul-piercing eyes. In his profile pic, he is reclined in a leather armchair with a Mac Book on his lap. Noticeably, he is completely naked—his cock and balls are the focal point of the picture. And yet, peering from over the laptop, RICK13’s eyes ensnare me. It is as if he is staring at me through my phone. There is a professional, educated quality about him—perhaps he is a business man or a college professor. But beneath that chiseled and predatory exterior lies something dangerous.
I am aching now.
My eyes flick down to the last section of his HUNGR profile: ONLY “ON-MENU” BOYS PLEASE!!!
My heart beats harder, as if trying to pound a hole through my chest. I squirm slightly on the couch and feel my insides tremble. I know that I’m playing a dangerous game by being on the HUNGR app. But damn it, I can’t help myself!
I put my fingers to the keypad and type, thank you!
The instant I send the message, I berate myself. Now I’m just playing with fire...in a dry, wooded area! By responding, I’ve encouraged RICK13 to starting “chatting” with me. And once he starts chatting with me, I’ll get pulled into his orbit, I’ll be put under his spell—it’s how these things always go for me. And it’ll just snowball from there.
I reach down and adjust myself, afraid that I’ll come out of my shorts if I don’t.
Welcome, RICK13 writes back. Haven’t seen you on here before. You new?
Just joined actually.
well welcome to Hungr
I hope you’re not being preyed upon too much—pardon the pun.
I am. But that’s okay. It’s flattering
So what brings you on here, kiddo?
At that, I pause. How do I respond? Do I say I want to be eaten directly? Dare I admit something so...so...fatal out loud? And to a pred, of all people?! Won’t that invite him to, I don’t know, ask me over or something? And what if that happens? I couldn’t very well turn down the offer? Or could I?
A teasing sensation in my groin dims my ability to think logically.
I was just curious what all the fuss is about
I stare at my phone, heart thundering inside me, waiting for him to write back. It takes him several minutes to reply, during which I swipe back to the list of HUNGR profiles. I click on AJSK4’s profile. He is a 33-year-old male. A tall and stocky guy. He has a buzz-cut and a beautifully sculpted white ass. His profile pic features him bending over a chair and looking back at the camera with his butt and his ballsack taking focus. He is a prey—and he isn’t subtle about it either. His profile heading reads: LOOKING FOR THE RIGHT PRED TO SWALLOW ME DOWN – I WANNA BE FULLY CONSCIOUS WHEN YOU START TO DIGEST ME.
I notice the “EATEN” watermark over AJSK4’s pic. I notice the admin disclaimer at the top of his profile informing the rest of HUNGR users that he is deceased. I investigate and discover that a man by the username of MEZZOZ is the one who ate him.
At the bottom of AJSK4’s profile, MEZZOZ has written: “Adam and I have been friends for long time n I finaly got to knock him back on Thursday…Shit him out this morning…Good guy, better meal”
I stare at AJSK4’s profile pic after that. It is arousing just knowing that the dude posing for the picture is no longer alive. His smooth white ass no longer exists. The low-hanging scrotum in between his legs is long gone, digested, and reduced to basic proteins for MEZZOZ’s body to absorb.
My phone dings! again. It is RICK13 replying to my last message.
You should come over and I’ll show you, he writes.
A slow, trickling warmth spreads over my body. I can feel the blood rush out of my cheeks...and into something else.
Welp!—that did it, James. Now you’re in for it.
If it’s possible, my stomach clenches tighter, my heart pounds harder, and the teasing sensation in my groin begins to consume me.
Frozen with shock, and overwhelmed to the point of nearly blacking out, I stare at my phone for a whole minute. When at last I come to my senses, I look up and gaze out at my apartment. My roommates won’t be home for hours. And besides, they’ll probably just think I’m hooking up with some guy on Grindr. My parents live in another state, but it’s been threemonths since I last spoke with them, and I don’t see them trying to get in touch with me anytime soon. A strained relationship, that one. And my boss at work won’t miss me until next Tuesday. I have...I have nothing...nothing to lose.
The reality of the situation is sinking in now. I turn back to my phone.
Do you get a lot of guys from HUNGR to come over to your place?
When was the last one?
Who was he?
RICK13 sends me a pic of a young, cute-faced boy standing in the middle of what appears to be a sports-themed bedroom. He is naked and holding up a sign that says “Eager Prey Seeking Hungry Pred.” His penis and scrotum hang down just below the sign. He is skinny, like me, though noticeably a few years younger. He couldn’t have been more than 20 when the picture was taken.
RICK13 sends a follow-up pic of the boy. In this one, however, he is bent over and showing off his peach-fuzzed ass and taint.
Nice...was he any good?
He was delicious. Gained two pounds of muscle thanks to him
Are you trying to gain?
A little, yeah…Been lifting at the gym
There is a pause. Then RICK13 types:
Tryin to beef up my upper body for the bf…he likes a strong pair of arms around him at night
Oh you have a bf?
And he knows you eat guys?
Yeah… He does too
Hot... a pred power-couple
There is a swirl of tingling, lustful energy that erupts in me. I make a small moaning sound involuntarily.
Then, with a surge of decisiveness, I type,
What should I wear?
Doesn’t matter. You won’t be in your clothes very long anyway
“Holy shit...” I hear myself say aloud. “Holy shit...holy shit...oh shit...”
Okay, I’ll come over
The next few moments are a blur. RICK13 sends me his address and I—fraught with excitement and apprehension and arousal—run to the bathroom to take a piss. Probably won’t have the chance to pee again—ever! I jump in the shower, hardly able to wash myself I’m so distracted. I towel off, throw on some briefs, some socks; I step into a pair of shorts, rub a stick of deodorant under my arms, and pull a shirt over my head. I go for my keys, my wallet, my phone. Am I forgetting anything? No, none of my material possessions matter anymore. I step out the front door.
Fuck, am I really doing this?
It is a long, tortured drive down the highway. My mind races with everything you can possibly imagine. What will it be like? Will it hurt? How do I begin to reconcile my own, imminent death? Will his teeth cut me? Will I bleed? Will I suffocate? Will I feel myself being digested? Is this the right choice? Should I turn back? Maybe I should turn back.
A raging fire burns deep within me. I can’t ignore it. I want this. I crave this.
My mind flashes to all the other prey profiles I saw on the HUNGR app. Though I only caught glimpses of them, I remember how the number of pred profiles significantly outweighed the number of prey profiles, which is to be expected given that preys...well, they don’t live very long.
I wonder how many other preys are in the same boat I’m currently in right now. Driving to meet up with a pred who they met online.
Another thought: I wonder how many preys will be eaten tonight?
A nervous flare strikes my stomach, like lightning. My legs shake, my hands quiver, and I feel as though I’m in a dream. Could I be asleep right now? Imagining all of this?
A squirrel darts out into the road and I swerve to avoid hitting it. Nope. Definitely not a dream.
I continue following the map on my phone, taking exit 224B and making a left at the light, just as it tells me. I set my jaw, enduring the war between my better senses and the carnal arousal that rages within me. I can’t ignore the profound influence my “maleness” is having on me at the moment. It’s overpowering.
I steer my car down a series of backroads, gazing out at the beams of my headlights as they carve through foggy darkness. My palms have a slippery grip on the wheel, and something damp sticks in my briefs.
As I round the next curve, I feel my heart stutter in my chest. There’s a long gravel driveway that leads down to a small A-frame house. I follow it with utmost trepidation in my throat, in my belly.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...” I say to my myself. “Can’t believe I’m doing this.”
With hands shaking, I put my car in park beside a large, mud-encrusted pickup truck.
I could still turn back...
I check the time on my phone. I open the HUNGR app and find RICK13’s messages. I take a breath.
I type the following message: I’m here.
“I’m going to die.” The words settle into the car’s interior with me. They surround me. They become truth. I say it again, louder this time. “I’m going to die.”
My heart is a raging, cataclysmic storm. Further down, beneath my belt, I am throbbing.
Several moments pass before the porch light flicks on. A knot twists in my belly as I turn to see a looming figure now standing in the house’s doorway. I cannot see the figure’s face, or any details of his person. He is backlit, visible to me only as a daunting, black shape. With a gulp, I turn off my car’s engine and climb out.
From out of the darkness comes a deep, rumbling voice. “Hello.” The voice is deeper than I expected it to be. Much deeper. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. “It’s okay, kiddo,” the voice says, “I don’t bite...hard.”
Slow, I make my way toward the shadowy figure in the doorway. Every muscle in my body trembles with uncertainty, but I know it’s too late to turn back. I’m here. I’m committed. Oh fuck, I’m committed.
“It’s James, right?”
I nod. “Yeah. And you’re Rick?”
An ivory white grin slashes across the shadowy face.
A long, tense moment settles in between us. I try to ignore the instinctual urge to run. I instead listen to the all-consuming male desire throbbing between my legs, insisting that I stay.
“Come inside, James,” the rumbling voice says, and the looming figure steps back to let me through the door.
By saying my name, I feel he already has me captured—caught up in his spell. I obediently follow the rumbling voice into the house. At first glance, I can see that it is a well-lit home with wooden floors and marble counters. The evening news is on in the living room, and in the study, a record player fuzzily puts out classical symphonies. There is a photo on the wall of two men in their mid-thirties. They are hiking in a mountainous region somewhere, looking up at the camera and smiling. I recognize one of the men as a younger version of Rick. The other man—no doubt his boyfriend—is about the same age, though slightly smaller and more youthful in appearance.
I turn to face to Rick for the first time. He is shirtless and wearing only a pair of sweats. I glance down at his bare feet—they are huge. His hands are those of a lumberjack’s.
“You have a nice place,” I say.
He smiles at me. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Everything in me wants to be honest, but I resist.
“No,” I shake my head. “Not at all.”
Rick takes a step toward me. By all accounts, he is a massive man. Most preds are larger in nature, both in height and girth. And Rick, well, he towers over me. He is padded with muscle and textured with chest and belly fur. A slight beer-belly sags over his waistline, but otherwise he is in great physical shape for a 49-year-old.
Now that we are standing in the light, I can see the finer details of his face—a slight scar on his left cheek, years of wisdom behind his eyes. He has a fearsome gaze, making it seem as though he’s peering into my very soul. I do my best to appear calm as he moves into me. Inside, I am screaming.
“Glad you decided to come over.”
I look around. “Isn’t your boyfriend here?”
“Nah, he’s outta town.”
“Oh. Well.” I clear my throat. I am trying to fight back an impulse to run back to my car. My heart is pounding.
Rick says, “Not many preys are willing to meet up with a pred.”
He shakes his head.
“It sounded like you’ve been having luck with the Hungr app, though.”
“Not much. All you preys wanna be on Hungr. You wanna be drooled over…you wanna be hunted, so to speak. But you don’t wanna be eaten. Most of ya are ‘off-menu,’ or whatever.”
My heart thumps. “Oh. I would’ve thought...”
“Yeah. It’s titillating for a pred to see the buffet. But when he can’t eat any of its items, it gets incredibly frustrating.”
“I would’ve thought more preys would have...I mean, well, you know.”
“Nah. Most flake out at the last minute.” Rick narrows his eyes on me. “You’re an exception.”
My stomach churns. I wonder, suddenly, if I’ve made a huge mistake coming here. Was I too impulsive? Was I too horny? Should I have listened to my better judgement? Should I have fought my male urges more?
“So how come you want to be eaten, kiddo?”
“I don’t—I don’t know where it comes from. I’ve just had the desire for as long as I can remember. It’s just something inside me. A craving, I guess.”
A noticeable bulge appears in my shorts—or perhaps it’s been there the whole time. I catch Rick eyeing it and immediately my cheeks go red.
With a grin, Rick says, “Go on, take off your clothes.”
Holy shit, this is real now.
“T-take them off?”
“That’s what I said.” He undoes the drawstring at his waist, evidently he is making room for something. “No need to be shy about it either. We’re both guys.”
I quickly overcome any hesitation I was feeling and pull off my shirt. Rick stands there, watching me undress. I kick off my sneakers, slip out of my shorts, peel off my socks.
“Those too.” He gestures to my briefs—the only thing keeping me from being completely naked.
“Oh. I-I wasn’t sure if you...”
He shakes his head. “I don’t eat underwear.”
Heart pounding, I take off my briefs and toss them beside my socks and shoes, which have been haphazardly thrown in the corner of the room. Now I am standing naked in Rick’s house, trying to cover myself as best I can. Males have a hard time concealing themselves when they’re aroused, it’s the truth.
“Don’t bother with that,” Rick says, shooing my hands away. “Whatever you’re trying to cover up is going down my throat either way. You might as well stop with the modesty.”
Seeing his point, I let my hands fall to my side. “There you go.”
His gray eyes run over me like warm water. I notice his nostrils flare as he picks up my scent— no doubt getting a whiff of horny boy. I am both nervous and deeply curious to find out what happens next.
Rick proceeds to remove his sweatpants. He finishes loosening the drawstring and lets them fall casually to his feet. The fullness of his manhood spills out in front of me. It is an impressive display of masculinity, and I can tell by the cocky twinkle in his eyes that he knows it is impressive.
“Go ahead,” he tells me. “You can touch it. You’ll be nourishing it soon enough.”
"Your boyfriend won't mind?"
Rick laughs. "It's fine, trust me. Besides, I'm about to dispose of any evidence of cheating anyway. So you're in the clear."
Eagerly, I reach out and grab the man’s cock. It is large and thick. There is a crop of bristling pubic hair at the base of the shaft. It slowly begins to fill with blood, and beneath it, his balls swing low and heavy, like a hairy pendulum of flesh.
I bend over and bury my nose in him; I want to smell the man who is about to eat me. He puts off a distinctly male odor, and on top of that, he puts off an intense heat.
“H-how many guys have you eaten?” I ask, looking up at him.
He grins down at me. Shrugs. “Quite a few.”
“And do you know...do you know how long it will be before I’m—I’m...”
I gulp. “Yeah.”
Rick puts his hand on the back of my head and grinds himself into my face. The heat coming off him is enough to singe my forehead and cheeks.
“It won’t be long,” he tells me. “You’ll be dead within an hour. Actually, it’ll more likely be about thirty minutes. That’s typically how long it takes for them to stop stirring.” He finishes grinding into me. “Are you ready?”
I look up at him. Those soul-piercing eyes hold me captive. I whimper slightly, out of both fear and extreme arousal. I can’t seem to control myself. I am a slave to the stirrings taking place between my legs. My body is going to nourish his—a huge, beastly male…with a massive cock. He deserves to eat me. He deserves to digest me and absorb my nutrients. I owe him my body, that’s how I see it. I owe him, even if it means my life.
And fuck, he’s so hot! So big. So powerful. I am honored to be his food. At the same time, I am terrified of him.
I moan, unable to ignore the constant throbbing at my groin. It is taking me under its spell. Boys were never meant to overcome their carnal desires—they’re too strong, too intoxicating, too tempting.
“Y-yeah,” I say. “I’m ready.”
Ready? How can I possibly be ready? I’m going to die! He’s going to eat me and I’m going to die!
But as Rick takes hold of my arm, I melt inside. Fuck it, he can have me. He opens his mouth. It is a yawning, gaping stretch, and slowly, he lowers his jaws over me. Darkness comes over my eyes. The heat of his breath licks my face. And for the first time, I begin to realize that I am his.
My fear never goes away completely, but as Rick begins to consume me, so does my arousal. I start to give into the yearning, aching lust that has been ravaging my body all night. I feel my boyhood throbbing with desperation.
Rick’s jaws clamp down around me. He has taken in most of my head. There is a putrid, meaty smell as I find myself being pulled into the back of his throat. The air is warm and humid, almost unbreathable. But I manage anyway.
Slowly, the muscles of Rick’s throat expand, squeezing and pulling at my head. I can feel my face slipping through the pink archway of his throat and gliding to the very back of his tongue. As my forehead and my eyes enter the esophageal canal, the pressure changes. I feel as if I just dunked my head under warm water. The world is now a muffled drone somewhere in the background. I am slipping away from it all, sliding through a dark wet tunnel of flesh, to my death.
There is a powerful squeezing sensation on all sides of my face and suddenly my head is sucked into the esophagus, everything up to my neck. Pop! Eyes open, I stare down into the black abyss that waits for me.
I can feel Rick’s molars pressing against my chest and upper back. He grabs me at my armpits and lifts me up, guiding me deeper inside him. I am trembling, both in terror and delight.
As my head slides deeper in, I am suddenly overcome by a thundering heartbeat. With each passing second, I draw nearer and nearer to Rick’s heart, which pumps onlyinches away from my face: Boom BOOM...boom BOOM! It is a powerful muscle, I can tell. Loud and consolingly rhythmic.
Rick is lifting my body off the floor. My neck and shoulders have now entered the man’s mouth and, steadily, they approach the gateway to his throat. My feet dangle in midair.
As my shoulders press up against the back of Rick’s gaping throat, I can feel the walls of slimy flesh close in around me, tighter, squeezing harder. Rick is adjusting his head, trying to find the right angle to effectively engulf my shoulder-span. Eventually, he finds it, and my shoulders slip straight on through. I am now descending into his body with ease.
As my head is pulled deeper and deeper down, approaching the stomach, I begin to feel hot waves of air rising up on face. I can smell the tinge of stomach acid along with various odors of meat and beer. I struggle to breathe the sweltering, acidic air—and not to mention my chest is being squeeze by the back of Rick’s tongue, so my lungs can’ barely expand. But the instant my chest slips through the throat, breathing goes back to normal.
All around me is darkness. Wet, hot darkness. Down below, I hear a series of gurgling and sloshing sounds, like a sea in stormy weather.
Somewhere within the layers of flesh that encase me, Rick’s heart drums.
I feel my belly slide along the length of Rick’s tongue, heading fast for the opening to his throat. My stomach is still in knots as I realize how near to death I am. But even so, there’s something thrilling, something exhilaratingabout all this. I just need to...I need to find out...I need to experience it.
Oh shit...oh shit...What am I doing?! Why was I so stupid?!
Somewhere inside me, there is a great stirring. I moan as the stirring centers on my groin.
Shit, what’s happening to me?
Rick chugs my body. I can feel every gulp, every toss of the tongue, every clamp of his jaws. There are moments when his teeth graze my bare skin and I wince. Suddenly, Rick’s tongue curls up between my legs to pull me deeper into his mouth. The sensation drives me wild. Clearly, he doesn’t mind what parts of my body he tastes. I guess my whole body is merely “food” to him at this point. But even so, Rick’s tongue is lingering between my scrotum and anus. He is smashing the tip of his tongue into my taint! He is savoring my flavor…he is toying with me…
I feel my cheeks grow hot with...embarrassment? Shame? Arousal? If it wasn’t so pitch black in Rick’s throat, it would have been obvious I was blushing.
Esophageal muscles pull at me and squeeze me. They are enormously powerful, inescapable. My arms are pinned down to my sides, my midriff is wedged in the opening of Rick’s throat, my feet dangle in midair somewhere.
As I am lowered further into Rick’s body, I feel my forehead enter a slurping, sphincter-like muscle—the stomach. The muscle pulls and sucks at me, taking me slowly inside of it. I take a deep breath, afraid that once I get pulled in I won’t have any air to breathe.
Somewhere up above, my lower half is being cradled in Rick’s jaws. The man’s tongue runs over every square inch of me. I flail my legs, which hang partially out of his mouth. I wince slightly as my midriff is swallowed up and my hips become lodged in the back of his throat.
Now my head is fully slurped up by sphincter muscle. Inside the stomach, the air is rank with a meaty, acidic odor. Still somewhat breathable, though.
Holy shit, I’m being eaten! EATEN!
There is a throbbing between my legs. I can’t explain why I’m throbbing, I just am.
With my hips lodged in the archway of Rick’s throat, I realize that my boyhood—my essence—is about to vanish from the world completely. Once my hips squeeze through, it will be a quick descent. My balls and my ass—they will be slurped down instantly. Only a few more gulps after that and I will be in Rick’s belly, getting melted down and mulched up.
I cry out. Not from pain, but from pleasure. My penis is being stimulated by Ricks tongue. There is a jolt of electricity deep inside me. I can feel my balls buzzing with energy.
And oh shit, I’m going to...to—
“Ohhhhh!” I moan. “Ohhhhhhhhhh!”
I am mortified. Fuck, I can’t believe I just did that—hell, I’m still doing it!
Oh fuck...oh fuck...it’s so...oh god, fuck! So...GOOD.
All over Rick’s tongue, all in his mouth, my cum spills everywhere. It is undoubtedly the biggest load my body has ever produced. Not even my 14-year-old self could have produced that much semen at one time.
Caught between shame and raw physical pleasure, I descend further into the stomach. It is black as pitch and profoundly humid. Wet, spongy walls grip me from all sides. I’m being pulled in deeper, faster, and settling into a cocoon of hot, dripping flesh.
I’m still moaning, although my moans sound distant and far away now. I wince as my penis and scrotum are suddenly slurped into the throat. My rear-end follows suit. Even so, I’m still cumming. My boy parts are being squeezed and pulled at by the throat muscles. There are times when it’s a little painful. My balls get squished every time Rick swallows, and my cock, which is spilling its last drops of cum, is being bent awkwardly downward—or rather, upward. It is pointing directly at my feet, which is incredibly unpleasant for a guy when he has a full-on boner!
I gasp loudly.
Now my bare legs slip down the man’s throat. I feel Rick’s calloused tongue gliding over my hairy knees and calves. I find myself descending deeper and deeper into his stomach—my neck, my shoulders, my chest, my waist.
So much is happening now that I can’t focus on any one thing in particular. The spongy, fleshy walls pressing up against me make every effort to smother me alive. I feel embarrassed that I orgasmed so quickly...and so potently! And even now, as I silently reprimand myself, my boy parts feel as if they’re being crushed by the strength of Rick’s throat muscles. Being eaten is not simply the glorious sexual event that I’ve always imagined it to be. It’s real, and it’s raw, and at times, it’s a little violent.
I audibly whimper as Rick gulps, which constricts his throat muscles and squeezes my testicles a little too much for comfort. I slip down farther. I can feel my feet wedged in the very back of his throat now. They are the only part of my body exposed to the outside world at this point. I flex my toes just as he arches his head back and swallows them.
Now it’s done. I’ve been eaten.
A brief wave of panic takes over me. I want out. I want out!
As the rest of my body slips down into the fleshy cocoon of Rick’s belly, I begin to feel a deep regret. I look around, but I can’t see anything. I feel like I’m in a dark sauna...a steam room, crowded by giant naked men on all sides of me. I can’t get out...I will never get out...this is where I’m going to die. [/si