CR99's Voretober Drabbles

[Crwn99 (mention)]

Hello, world! I have decided to try to write something every day for Voretober this year, using the "official" prompt list on FurAffinity. This header will serve as an index if I post enough that the need arises, and other than that I'll just post my stories here as they come. I've already written a story for Day 1 and will post it shortly.

[Crwn99 (mention)]

Day 1 - Storage
967 words
OV, digestion, fatal (sort of), furry prey, mechanical pred, implied mass vore, bondage, sci-fi, teleporter problem

Satsuki stood in line in the heat. A massive sign above her proclaimed that this was BLUEMORN EVAC ZONE – SOUTH TRESSANI. She couldn’t see the start of the line from where she was standing, but she could, finally, see the end; a Constellar hangar base just outside city limits, with furs shuffling in intermittently.
Satsuki was a limber cat, having grown up in the low gravity of Bluemorn. Her fur was mostly black, with white spots over one eye and her hands and feet. She’d taken most of her clothes off, in just her panties, letting her bulge show. Ever since the spike in solar activity, public nudity had become a lot more acceptable.

That spike was why they were here in the first place – it was just the beginning, apparently, and their sun was going to scorch their little planet clean in just a few months. With no time for physical evacuation of ten billion people, the Constellar had opted for a faster approach: mass digitization. Some key personnel would leave in their bodies, but most of the population would be converted into data, flown off as server racks, and then reconstituted later. Today was the day that the south half of Tressani would be digitized, along with the north half and a few dozen other cities.

After twenty more minutes of waiting in the heat, she came to a gate – one of dozens. A boar woman was managing it, completely nude except for a sash with a Constellar badge on it. She looked up, smiling. “Name?”
“Satsuki Morgan.”
“Constellar ID?”
“...Don’t have one. Never thought I’d leave.”
“No worries! I’ll assign you one.” The lady punched a few commands into her keyboard. “Alright! You’re Satsuki Morgan of Tressani-Bluemorn, and your number’s in the system. You’ll have a chance to learn it and add other information once you’re safely in core space.”
Satsuki shrugged. “’kay.”
“Now, it looks like Hangar 3 is the lest congested, so if you’ll just head over there, then everything will be alright. You’ll just have the machine copy you, and then the next thing you know, you’ll be in a reprinting bay.”

The opening to Hangar 3 was covered by a curtain; a few people had gone in, just before her. She walked through, unsure what to expect.

She didn’t expect a mouth. It was massive, filling the doorway and then some. It was a machine, and yet the way its synth-flesh tongue moved looked perfectly organic. Plastic, toothless jaws in the shape of a dragon’s framed a glowing blue gullet, pulsating with perfect rhythm. Before she even had time to scream it inhaled her, that tongue shoving her back into the throat, going down, down, down, before slowing, then stopping. She was in some kind of chamber, a crop. The walls were wet and slimy, covered in pores (sensors?), before suddenly they vacuum-sealed around her. She heard a voice, “Initiating scan–”

<THREAD A>
And then she was awake in a sickbed, breathing raggedly.
“What the hell just – that thing was eating me –”
She heard a light voice. “Deep breaths, ma’am. You’re fine. You’re not being eaten.”
She coughed. She tried to breathe deep. She breathed deep.
“Good. Now, you’re Satsuki Morgan of Tressani-Bluemorn, correct?”
She looked at the voice. It was attached to a songbird of some kind, she couldn’t tell. “Y-yes?”
They nodded. “Okay. You’ve been reprinted. We’re going to do a few quick tests to ensure that you’ve maintained function, but then you’ll be free to go. Do you have any questions?
She had hundreds, but only one came out. “Bluemorn?”
“Destroyed two days ago.”
She sat with that for a while. Her school. Her apartment. Her grandmother’s house. …But she was alive. Her friends were alive.
“Alright. Let’s go.”

<THREAD B>
And then, a second later, “Scan complete.”
She waited. Any second now, she’d wake up in the Constellar Core, like that lady had said.

Any second.

I mean, she wouldn’t remember anything from after the scan, right? So-
“Disposing of biomass.”
And suddenly she was sucked further in, snaking along the ground, then rising. She didn’t realize what was going on until the machine deposited her into a new chamber, splashing her into a pit of blue liquids.
“W-wait, what does-”
Before she could say more, it sealed around her all over again, surrounding her with the fluids, leaving her totally unable to move. Then, the chamber seemed to break off from its feeding tube, moving aside.

She was trapped. Her cock, her thighs, her tits and ass; every part of her was clear as day, and every part was touching the blue fluid. Every so often, she could another piece of “biomass” enter another bag, before the entire machine rotated again, but the sound got fainter and fainter.

At the same time, though she was too overstimulated to realize, she was being dissolved. The juices around her were an enzyme bath, breaking down her fur and skin into liquid, the bag getting even tighter as she was compressed. Her body was melting; her ears and eyes gave out quickly, leaving her with just the sensation of being broken down. Some of it would be converted into storage, integrated into her devourer’s “brain” to help it hold the scans of so many people. Most of it, though, was just being made into raw carbohydrates; a sugary slop of biofuel.

Of course, she didn’t know any of this. All she felt was terror; a brief moment of pain, before the enzymes shut off her nerves; a long, silent moment of dread as it ate away at her organs and brain; and then, the indescribable feeling of her bag being drained to make way for the next inhabitant, her last thoughts draining with it.

[Crwn99 (mention)]

Day 2 - Magic
368 words
Teleportation vore (into stomach), F/M, sleeping prey, fantasy

I have a gallery now, so I'll be posting there from now on, but it's no trouble to copy-paste my work into here as well.

Atys the Great wakes up. Her magic and body are restored, except for a strong hangover.
More importantly, though, she’s hungry. If the world were just (oh! if only) then there would be a servant there, ready to feed themself to her, thanking her for the privilege of becoming part of the greatest mage in the land. As things are, none yet recognize her greatness. She is in a mediocre inn, having earned room and board by clearing out an infestation of dire serpents, and then gotten blackout drunk.
She turns over in bed, not wanting to get up. To her surprise, there is a man sleeping next to her whom she has no memory of. Did she sleep with him? Did she wander into an occupied room and pass out? What does he know? What if she told him all of her secrets while she was drunk? What if—
Her stomach growls. An idea forms in her brain. Maybe she can kill two birds with one stone; deal with this hunger, and ensure that she leaves behind no weakness.
Eating him normally would be too risky; loud, and risking his fighting back. Instead, she lays one hand on him, slowly tracing symbols in the air with the other, mumbling words of power as quietly as she can. Components in her pouch on the nightstand evaporate, resonating with the magic, as she keys in the spell she desires: teleportation. Now, all that’s left is to focus on the destination, and…
There’s a POP of vacuum as the man vanishes from his spot. At the same time, the stomach of Atys the Great swells massively, at first wrapping tightly around him, before her skin gets the hint and stretches into a nice nondescript ball. That should be enough to deal with her hunger. She considers getting up, but before she can come to a decision she falls asleep again. Even as her belly starts to shift, then struggle, she doesn’t stir…

Atys the Great wakes up. Her magic and body are restored, and she feels perfectly full. She must have eaten someone last night, but there’s no use wondering who at this point. She stretches, then starts her day.


This one was going to be a more involved concept, but I ran out of time. Fortunately there are still a few time zones where it's the 2nd.

[Crwn99 (mention)]

Forty Liters (Day 4 - Exchange)
1002 Words
F/F, breast vore, willing, fatal, human prey, anthro pred, anthro observer, light Master/pet

“One pet for forty liters, huh? Where’s the rest go?”
“Well, some of them gets melted into cup size, some of them goes to the stomach, and of course you gotta strain out the indigestibles. I gotta hedge in case someone brings in one that’s light, too.”
Two strangers stand in a booth at a farmer’s market. One of them, a wolf, has a rumbly voice. He’s putting on a cold affect. “And you have to keep some to sell.”
“You don’t say! Goodness, selling things for money at a farmer’s market! What has this world come to?” The other, a cow, has her tits out through her overalls, under a sign proudly advertising Sandy’s Ultra-Fresh Milk. Up to ten liters per person can be bought for cash, but for more than that you have to help contribute to the supply.
“Well, look. I think my Jenny could give you – come out from behind my leg, Jenny.”
He tugs on the leash, and Jenny steps out. As a human, she’s barely half the height of either of them. She’s somewhat pudgy, and naked except for a collar. He ruffles her curly hair. “There we go. Anyway, as you can plainly see, she’s got plenty of meat on her. I think that if a normal pet can get you forty liters and change, she could easily get you...sixty?”
“Sir, I do not like to haggle.”
“I guess you must not like getting sales, either.”
She chews on her lip. She looks Jenny up and down. Jenny blushes, looks at the ground, murmurs something.
Sandy leans in. “What was that, hon?”
“please…”
She stands back up. “Fifty. And that’s only ‘cause she knows how to ask nicely, you understand?”
He just shrugs. “Deal.” He picks up Jenny with hardly any effort, looking her in the eye; suddenly, when the haggling’s done, his gaze becomes a lot softer. “Hey. I love you.”
“love you too, Sir.”
“You’re going to be delicious.”
“t-thank you, Sir.”
With that, he unclips the leash and hands her to Sandy, who wastes no time at all stuffing her headfirst into her left tit. Before her shoulders are in, she’s already masturbating, shlicking two fingers in and out of her pussy while grinding her clit against her palm. Sandy’s a professional, of course; her nipple stretches around those shoulders easily, and from there it’s a single, smooth pull, lasting maybe ten seconds, until the human is compressed neatly into a ball inside her breast.
“Alright. It’ll take about fifteen minutes, so y’can wander a bit if you want.”
“Fair enough, but...I ought to watch, yeah? It’s her big moment.”


The inside of Sandy’s breast is tight and hot and cramped. Jenny is left crushing her hand between her thighs, levering it back and forth, trying her hardest to get off with whatever time she has left. She thinks the cow said something about fifty minutes?
Less than an hour, and then she’ll be a hot liquid mess, pumping out of this stranger’s tits. Less than an hour, and she’ll be gone. It makes her shiver.
The compression picks up. Already the outer layers of her balled-up body are starting to come apart. The heat should be making her sweat, but instead rivulets of milk are starting to drip down her body. Her feet are numb. Sandy is talking to someone again, but she can’t tell who.
She’d known forever that someone would eat her one day, one way or another, but when she saw a goat lady melt her crush into milk she’d realized that this was what she wanted. Jonas had teased her and teased her, but he didn’t have the anatomy for it, and he said he wasn’t ready to let someone else take her. Eventually they worked out an exchange; he’d find someone, but he’d get the milk from it, and in the meantime she’d be his pet in public. He teased her endlessly, showing her ice cream and yogurt, chocolate and raspberry milk, all of the different things he promised to make her into, and now it was real, it was happening, she was going to be thick white-
Suddenly, she realizes that her legs are gone, and the rest of her body is following fast. How long had it been? It didn’t feel like more than fifteen minutes… She drives into her cunt as hard as she possibly can, desperate to have a last orgasm even as the milk seeps into her body, even as her bones disconnect and gather at the bottom of the teat, even her head slips under-
She comes, and she loses track of who she was, her flesh sloughing off her bones. It doesn’t matter now, anyway. She’s just milk.

Sandy prods at her massive, bloated breast. “Alright, I think that’s about as melted as it’s gonna get. Let me get out the containers…”
She gets out a huge tub, with a faucet on one side, and a net over the top. She lines her breast up over it and starts to milk. It’s hesitant at first, but soon enough it’s gushing out. Bones start to push out, an armbone, a pelvis, a few ribs. They get caught by the net, piling up slowly. “A-alright, that’s most of it...just a few more…” Last to leave is the skull, landing on top of the pile, milk dripping out of the hollow cavity. “Whoof! Alrighty, that’s most certainly more than fifty liters. You can have your share, and you can keep the bones too if you want.”
She runs the tap, filling a forty-liter jug and a ten-liter bottle, which Jonas puts in his bag. Afterwards, she just keeps filling ten-liters – she gets two more in total.
“Goodness. Fair bit above average, she was.”
“Right you are.” He looks at the bones for a moment, then grabs the skull and collar. “You can handle the rest?”
“Oh, everyone’s looking for good mulch, sir.”
He puts the bottles in his bag, and wanders off.


I was going to write something for day 3. In fact, I still am. But the deadline came and went and I decided to shelf that and write something for the next day because i liked my concept too much to half-ass it.
Then this ended up being longer than what I'd written for that one. Oops!

[Crwn99 (mention)]

Day 5 - Fossil
[156 words]
This one’s a true story. It’s rambling, too, but short
One time, they had – not technically a fossil, mind you, but there was this outdoorsy place, a park center or something, and one of the things they had, was an archway fashioned out of an orca’s jaw. It must have been the lower jaw, since there wasn’t a skull attached. It was really well preserved, too, the teeth were still there. It’s possible that it wasn’t the real thing, that it was a mold or something, but that’s basically what fossils are too. I think.
It didn’t, I mean, I don’t think it caused an awakening. I’m pretty that when I found it, I knew already that I was into vore. But I do remember standing beneath it and just imagining. That the jaws would come to life and snap me up, or that the little exhibit on natural history behind it was the orca’s stomach.

[Crwn99 (mention)]

Day 6 - Quarrel
NB/F, OV, digestion, reformation, extended argument about whether death counts if you reform, pizza
Apologies for not posting. I will most likely skip from Day 6 to day 8, for lack of ideas and because I am behind.

“I – fuck’s sake, I was kidding about the pineapple on pizza thing! Stop it! Don’t–”
Gullllp. Down Dorie went, her black bob-cut vanishing between her friend’s jaws. As her shape collapsed into their stomach, they followed up with a big gulp of air. “Oogh. That was a treat.”
“Vic, let me out!”
Vic rubbed their bloated belly, feeling at her curled-up shape. “And I’m s’posed to do that because?…”
“Because – we’re friends! I know you eat people, but not me!”
They were moving somewhere, she could feel. Then sitting down. “Well, friends are tasty too. And you were being really annoying. About the pineapple on pizza thing.”
“This is totally disproportionate! I’m going to melt! I’m going to die!”

They just shrugged. “You’re reformer-registered. Same as anyone else.”

“Th-that doesn’t count! It’s a different me!”
She heard her TV start up, faintly, through gurgling gastric juices. “Why’s it a different you?”
“Because – there’s no continuity of matter! This body dies!”
“Well, if you got a full-body transplant, would you be dead?” They were watching something, on her subscriptions. She thought she heard the Cowboy Bebop theme.
“My brain would still be the same brain!”
“What if it got replaced bit-by-bit with nanomachines that were able to replicate your neurons? I read a story about that once.”
“That – there’s a clear difference between that and this!”
“Which is?”
“Well, here – aaagh!” A wave of acid surged, getting all over her shirt. She could see it melting. “The difference is, here my entire brain is being destroyed and remade! There it happens slowly.”
She heard voices. English? Wait, were they watching the live-action Cowboy Bebop? “Well, why does that matter? Like, say that the nanomachines aren’t that slow. They’re able to do it in one night, while you sleep. Then, it’s identical – you start with your “original” brain, then there’s a period of unconsciousness, then you have your new brain.” She opened her mouth, but they interrupted her. “By the way, do you need more air?”
Her head was getting a little light. “Y-yeah.”
Another gulp, and she could breathe again. And feel her limbs again. They felt sore and raw.
“I – well, you’re destroying my brain and body!”
“In most cases destroying either would be sufficient to declare you dead. Like, if I just went in your ear with an ice pick–”
“Vic!!”
She couldn’t see it, but Vic was smirking. “Do you have a counterargument? Why is this death if overnight robotization wouldn’t be?”
She tried her best to think, but the pain was starting to make it hard. Surely, if she wasn’t about to (arguably) die, then she would be able to come up with the perfect reason why being restored via her black box was different.
Instead she was forced to change tactics “Well – what if having my brain replaced overnight is death? Then what you’re doing is murder!”
They just patted their belly. “Hmmm. Do you really think I’m a murderer?”
“You eat people every day! Y-you’re a mass murderer! A-and, the only reason you get away with it, is because reformers dull the societal impact of it!”
“Uh huh. Well, in that case, it seems worthwhile to claw your way out, kicking and screaming.”
“I – what? If I did that, you’d die!”
“I mean, maybe, but I’d reform too. Unless you did a really spectacular job of it and smashed my skull in. And maybe you should do that! Otherwise, there’d still be a ‘mass murderer’ out there, whether or not they were technically me. Riiiight?”
Were they goading her to kill them? Was this their idea of a good time? Would she even be able to get out, with how broken-down her fingers were, and how her head was getting light again–
There was a massive, throaty UUUUUOOOORRRP, and without warning she went from low air to no air. Her body started thrashing, but without coordination there was no way for her to get out. Regardless of any philosophy, her body certainly believed it was going to die.
Sensing imminent asphyxiation, her black-box chip activated, beginning an invasive scan. Though the process reduced her brain to a pink paste, all necessary information was sent to the nearest reformers via satellite (with backups kept on the chip itself in case of failure).



After being reconstituted from the black-box data and her annual body scan, Dorie wasted no time in getting back to her apartment. She mashed in the keycode and threw open the door.
Vic was on her couch, watching the live-action Cowboy Bebop and eating pizza, even as their gut still had the mostly-defined outline of a body in it. “Hey. I ordered pizza. Half pineapple.”
Dorie just squinted at them.
“What? It’s like, a peace treaty. I don’t care that much about it. I just wanted an excuse to eat you.” They squeezed on their belly and she heard a SNAP. “You knew that, right?”
Her new body was made with an empty stomach, and she was hungry. She gingerly grapped four slices from the correct side, and sat down.
“Also, I can’t throw up a person. Tried to learn for years. Never worked. Two times I got bile in my lungs and died.”
“You ate me.”
“Yeah, but…we’re still friends, right? …At least until you can prove I’m a mass murderer.”
“…”
She sat down next to them. “Yeah, alright. Just don’t eat me without asking.”
“Deal.”