Okay, so I meant for this to be a cap but I got way too carried away, so here's the resulting story and I'm also attaching the pic that was going to be used in the cap. Enjoy!
Ryan leaned back in his chair, hiccuping occasionally, as the frantic thrashing of his stomach's temporary occupant finally started to fade into more sporadic, though occasionally still violent, squirms. Ryan thumped his bulging belly a couple of times let loose a rippling belch that caused a table of drunk guys over in the corner to burst into cheers and wolf-whistles. There had been some shocked faces around the restaurant when Ryan had chased his main course with his waiter. Everyone knew about vore, it was just a fact of life that some men had the gene that allowed them to swallow, digest, and shit out another man with ease. Every man in the world, by the time he reached old age, had either sent several other men down the hatch or had never reached old age on account of having circled a toilet drain. The vast majority of men, as one could tell just by simple math, fell into the latter category, even if they had the gene. Most funerals for men ended up being closed casket, or simply memorial services because of the steep cost of removing bones from the sewers. Often the pred was in attendance of the funeral as a friend or family member, people trying not to linger their eyes on the extra pounds pooching out around his middle. Tailors even advertised discounts on last minute funereal suit fittings for the pred who had gained weight from tanking his son, brother, employee, best friend, neighbor, or husband.
Vore was the often-unspoken reality of the world, no use crying about it. But this was the fancy hotel restaurant of a fancier resort, and such activities were rare here, though not unheard of. You could have heard a pin drop when Ryan had finally thrown back his head and slurped down the skinny Latino's kicking feet, the waiter's irritating pleas for mercy finally cut off with a final gulp and a groan of satisfaction. He had belched loudly enough to rattle some silverware, flashed a smile, and joked that dessert was a lot more filling when you ordered off-menu. People at other tables had smiled nervously and returned to their dinner and conversation.
Ryan was enjoying his vacation more than he had expected. He had initially thought that going on a solo vacation would be depressing after he had called off his engagement and dumped and flushed his boyfriend, but they had booked their honeymoon far in advance and Ryan would be damned to let all that money go to waste. He'd had enough of "waste" after pushing out what was left of his boyfriend. That night he had not drank any water, and the shit logs that Oliver had been reduced to had been rock hard and had not come out easily. His boyfriend had been his first meal, and he had made the rookie pred mistake of failing to keep hydrated.
He wouldn't make that mistake tonight. He had made several meals of fellow guests at the resort, and had learned a lot. He had learned that he had better work out frequently or the size of his prey-filled gut would soon become the default size of his empty gut. He also learned that, though vore was perfectly legal in every country in the world as long as both men were adults (though unlike with sex, consent was very much not required) businesses generally frowned on customers eating other paying customers. This particular business did not, however, see any problem with him hanging out in the hotel lobby, playing games on his phone, and waiting for some tasty looking men to come to the exit desk to check out of the hotel, only to find themselves checking into much more cramped accommodations. Some bellhops had even given him some friendly belly pats, joking with him about the acidic fate of their ex-customers. That they got to keep the luggage of his meals doubtless made them like him more. His asshole still ached from pushing out what was left of an older bearish couple this morning, but not as much as it had ached the morning after he tanked his boyfriend. He had learned his lesson: Hydration was key, especially for inexperienced preds whose digestive systems weren't used to handling such big loads. That's why he had had his waiter bring him several glasses of water, most of which he chugged down now that the squirms were weaker.
After he had had his fill of water, he balanced the last glass on his bloated gut. Occasionally, the waiter within would thrash violently as the steamy organ tried to break him down into mush. But every time, Ryan would shift his torso just in time to keep the water balanced. The drunk guys over in the corner found this very entertaining, and laughed and clapped. He let out a little belch now and again, muffled a few farts as best he could against the seat of his chair, and would occasionally give his belly a good slap, all while balancing the waterglass against the dying struggles of his meal. That little waiter might soon be no more than some bellyfat and a nice shit, but right now he was putting up a good fight.
However, the host finally seemed to have found out what had happened to one of his waiters, and walked over briskly, a stern expression on his face. Ryan let out another little burp and sighed. He figured that the fun would have to stop eventually. The host was a tall, handsome blonde man, probably not native to this Caribbean isle, who spoke in some sort of British accent. "Sorry to interrupt your meal Mr. Novak, but I wanted to remind you that, as in plainly printed on our menus, consumption of any members of restaurant staff will result in the cost of your meal being tripled. If you can still regurgitate him undigested, the cost will only be double instead. I can show you to the men's toilets if you would like?" He raised a hand to his side, gesturing expectantly to the hallway were the restrooms were located.
Ryan let out a small, squeaky fart. "Oof, excuse me. Nah man, I think I'll be letting him out in my hotel room's toilet, and I don't think he'll be in any shape to be returning to work. "
The host smirked. "I'm afraid that we'll still be required to triple your bill for tonight's meal, in that case."
Ryan waved it away. "Hey, no problem man. Listen, I just got out of this long term relationship, and things ended, uh...shitty, so I'm in the mood to have some fun and splurge. You guys have been really hospitable, I thought I would show him some hospitality of my own. I don't think he's going to give me a very good rating though." He said in mock concern, shaking his churning breadbasket.
The host chuckled lighty. "Very well, sir. Let me get your check, since your waiter has...failed to finish his shift. Actually, come to think of it, I'd better go clock him out." The host strode off to the kitchens, leaving Ryan to sit and stew away his meal. Somehow, the waiter was still squirming. Shortly, the host returned and placed the check and a bowl of peanuts on the table, and Ryan caught the hint of a naughty smile as if the host was getting away with something. That something turned out to be a note taped to the bottom of the bowl of peanuts. "Diego is allergic to peanuts. These should finish him off."
The note also contained a phone number.
In the early hours of the morning, Ryan had planted his bare ass on the cold toilet seat of his suite's bathroom, rubbing his lower belly and moaning in pleasure as what was left of Diego began to prairie dog in and out of of his slowly widening butthole. He was half asleep, eyes heavily lidded, and considered himself lucky he had jolted awake and gotten to the toilet in time. The second meal he ever had was a hookup he gulped down the night before his "honeymoon" started, and he had ended up shitting the guy's bed sometime in the night, as he was so exhausted from his body's inexperience with vore that he didn't wake up when the digested twink came knocking on his backdoor. He had been running late for his plane and had guiltily left the bony shitlog on the bed as a nasty surprise for the landlord whenever he came to check up on his missing tenant. But landlords who rented to young, single men should know to expect such things.
Ryan was startled when someone knocked at the door of his suite. He had almost forgotten that he had texted the host, whose name turned out to be Gethin, and invited him up before crashing to bed, belly first. "Come, hnnnng, come in! Unnngggh!" Ryan let out some birthing moans as his food baby crowned in earnest, the splashes of water from plopping log after log nice and cool on his bare asscheeks. He had left the door unlocked, and sure enough he soon heard Gethin enter the room, and from the sound of it, begin undressing. Finally came another knock, this time on the bathroom door. "Mr. Novak, are you decent?"
Ryan chuckled a little at the formality, and gave a shuddering little moan as a knob of Diego's bone brushed his prostate. "Unnnnnhhh. No, I'm not decent. Come in anyway. And call me Ryan."
"Right. Ryan." Gethin opened the door, fully naked. He was tall and pale, and he was clearly very careful to always use sunscreen as only his forearms really showed any tan from the Caribbean sun. His pubes and little tuft of chest hair were a darker, more golden blonde than the hair on his head, and he was absentmindedly fondling his long, uncut cock, which was hardening and rising as Ryan watched. His face however, erupted in an adorable blush as he beheld Ryan pushing out a huge dump.
"Oh, sorry, I thought I heard you say, well, I should better..." He began to turn as if to leave.
"Wait, Gething...hnnng!" *PLOP* "Ahh, listen, if you're gonna hit on preds, this is something you're gonna have to get used to seeing."
Gethin stopped, seemed to choke on his words for a moment, swallowed, and nodded. "Right. Sorry Ryan, I'm just not used to this. Anyway, it actually doesn't smell at all."
"Haha, yeah. I keep a healthy diet." He said, patting his slowly shrinking gut. "Why don't you come over here and give me a blumkin. I've got a big load coming"
"Give you a what?!"
"A blumkin. You know, suck a guy's dick when he's taking a crap. It's fucking hot."
Gethin seemed to reconsider, then flashed his naughty little grin again. "Well, I've come this far. You know I jacked off in the storage closet earlier thinking of you digesting Diego. He was always a little shit, it's actually kind of hot to see him turned into an actual big shit." And with that, he dropped to his hands and knees and with little fanfare popped Ryan's cut meat into his mouth.
Ryan moaned a laid his head back. This was so hot his whole body was shaking, his toes curling on the bathmat. He had never experienced something so socially dominating and physically satisfying as pushing the remains of a cute waiter out his hole while that waiter's coworker gobbled his cock. This is the kind of thing a man like him was born to do. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't long before he was pumping a huge load down Gethin's throat, which the Brit dutifully swallowed. At the same time, the last loaf slid from Ryan's ass and into the water. Gethin's cleanshaven chin was sprinkled with drops of water from the log-splashes, but he didn't compain. He smiled up at Ryan and began to speak. "Ryan, that was the hottes-"
Ryan grabbed him by the back of his hair and jammed his open mouth down onto his cock again. "Shut up. We're not done." His belly was still full and bloated and he had been wondering why when the last of Diego was plopping out. He had just realized why. "I drank too much water. More hydration than needed. And now it's ready to come out, along with a lot of water from Diego's body. You ready for it?" Gethin's eyes looked alarmed for a moment, then he winked as if to say, "I've got this."
Ryan began to piss. That much piss emptying from his bladder was just as satisfying as the amount of shit that had left his bowels. He gently stroked the back of Gethin's head as the Brit chugged down gallon after gallon. "Good boy, you're doing great, fuck yeah, ah fuck yeah that feels great." After Gethin licked the last drops of piss from the slit of Ryan's shroom, the Brit leaned back, belched a little, and clutched his now basketball sized belly. Ryan meanwhile wiped his ass thoroughly and flushed away what was left of Diego, smiling down proudly at his handiwork. The pipes groaned loudly but all the shit somehow made it down.
"Oh, fuck, oh, God that was good." Gethin moaned, rubbing slowly over his new gut as it gently sloshed with gallons of piss. "It's like I'm pregnant. Fuck. Ryan, thank you so much. Fuck. Oh. Oh God, I think I'm going to get tested, see if I have the pred gene. This feels so good." He spasmed, legs kicking at the cabinet doors beneath the sink as his cock spurted cum all over the globe of his belly. "Ah. Fuck."
"Yeah," Ryan said, rising from the toilet. "If your belly hasn't burst open from that you definitely have the pred gene. But you're not going to get the chance to use it. Goodbye Gethin!" He grabbed Gethin by the arms and leaned down, opening his mouth wide.
"Wait, don't-mmmppphh!" Gethin's head was down Ryan's throat in no time, his protests muffled. Soon, his head and shoulders were followed by his flailing arms, trying and failing to find something to hold on to so that Gethin could avoid his inevitable gurgly fate. As Ryan's teeth began to scrape along the Brit's chest, Ryan started to hoist the rest of the other man's body up in the air so he could slide down the slimy path to Ryan's stomach more easily. Gethin's feet just barely scraping against the tall bathroom ceiling. Powerful gulps began to send Gethin's bloated belly down next, the piss-filled midsection compressed down by Ryan's powerful throat muscles, juicy farts blasting their way out of the Brits ass as the piss rushed into his intestines in lack of anywhere else to go. Ryan liked to imagine that even now in his esophagus Gethin was blushing adorably in embarrassment, and the American began to stroke his cock at the thought that no one would ever see that blush blossom over that cute face again.
Next came Ryan's favorite part. He sucked heavily on Gethin's balls, to the point of causing his prey a mix of pleasure and pain, and then with this powerful tongue flipped him around in his mouth so he could explore the Brits hairy asscrack with his tongue, enjoying the musky flavors of Gethin's hole. Gethin shuddered with what would likely be the last orgasm of his life, and both Ryan and Gethin shot their loads at the same time, two splashes of cum splattering across the foggy mirror.
After that, it was a simple matter to crab the feet and push the legs down, and with a final satisfied gulp Ryan had a beachball sized gut as Gethin settled in a fetal position in his final destination as a living man. His shouts and screams turned into sobs as he clawed uselessly against the stomach lining, Ryan licking his lips and admiring his belly in the cum-splattered mirror. "Sorry dude, but what did you think was going to happen when you came up here tonight?" He let rip tonight's loudest belch yet, and gave his gut an affectionate meaty slap, setting off intensified squirming and muffled shouting. Their cumloads slowly dripped down the glass, their jizz mingling together. Ryan snapped a pic of the messy mirror, wiped it clean, grabbed a glass of water for his bedstand, and waddled back out into his hotel bedroom.
Crashing into the bed, he sat for awhile admiring the fat mountain of a belly rising before him, stewing and churning as his tank prepared to process the man he had gifted to it. "I don't know whether to call you a late midnight snack or an early breakfast, but you were exactly what I needed. Eeeeeuuuurrrrpppp! Ah." The sobs in little time began to turn into muffled screams of pain, then sudden silence. Ryan burped. Gethin had lasted a pathetically little amount of time.
It was always around this time that Ryan would feel a little jab of guilt, but this time he didn't. He wondered why. He had been closeted up until senior year of high school, until one foggy October day he and another boy, Aaron, had locked lips under the flame-colored leaves of an Oak tree and he realized that few other things had ever felt as right. Sneaking texts with little heart emojis in class, holding hands in the hallways, attending Prom together, all had felt right and exactly what he should be doing.
All until one heartbreaking day before Aaron's graduation party, when his cousin had come into town, gotten drunk, and the next morning changed Aaron's facebook pic into the toilet clogging mound of shit he turned his cousin into. Sometimes, Ryan would have nightmares about the sight of Aaron's skull embedded in the log, jaws stuck open in a final, eternal scream of pain, all his memories and personality, perhaps even his soul, annihilated when the acids had seeped through his eye sockets and melted his brain. He vowed that, despite having the genes, he would never do that to another person.
He broke that promise, years later, when he sent his fiance Oliver down the hatch and into his churning tank. Oliver had simply cheated, and that hardly warranted a death sentence. But it had felt right. Much like the time Ryan had first kissed another boy, it just felt like swallowing one was what he had been born to do.
Rubbing his squirming belly, Ryan figured he would probably end up sleeping past breakfast. He grabbed his phone and pulled up the resort's app. Their was a function where one could rate the service provided by individual employees. He found Gethin's page, staring at the selfie of Gethin's handsome face and smirking as he thought that even now his body was turning it into shit to be pushed out by noon tomorrow. He gave Gethin a 10/10 rating, leaving a comment: "Such a great host I decided to return the favor and give him some permanent lodgings." He put his phone back on the bedstand and began to drift off to sleep, planning for tomorrow.
What should he have for lunch, since he would sleep through breakfast? He should finally find out how those friendly bellhops tasted. One should be enough. Naw, he should try having two. It was his vacation, he should overindulge a little. He also made the decision to stop going to the gym for the rest of his trip. If his marriage to Oliver had gone through, he would eventually have ended up gaining relationship weight anyway. What was the harm in coming back from a tropical vacation with a little bit of belly anyway? If his fitness-crazed friends gave him shit for it, he would just turn them into shit.
"Goodnight Gethin, see you in the morning." He mumbled, before finally falling asleep.