Hand forcibly pressed against the taunt flesh of the voracious his captors throat, Martin could feel the writhing outline of Wayne behind the tight skin. If he was saying anything, from through the skin and muscle, Martin couldn't hear. All that filled his ears was the loud, unnerving slurps that came from the boy as he lapped over Wayne - his long, broad tongue peeping out from between his maw to wrap around what little was exposed of Wayne's neck and slither back into the cavernous maw to lick

Dear Diary,



21th February 2018



I never used a diary until now, my aunt got me this one when I was 12 and - of course, being a twelve year old… diaries aren't exactly something you actively wish for. My memory despite my age is awful you see and I forget things easily. But well… my friend gave me a little 'gift' a few days ago on my 21st birthday and I need go write

Hi,

Err… I'm not sure how you start off these Forum post things… but my names Eric, if that's any help. I'll leave it at Eric for now as I'm not sure what types of people lurk about here. I only found this through extensive Googling, you see. I've only been searching vore stuff of late because I'm pretty sure… my boyfriends a… well… a… what you call "Pred". And I have no clue what to do about it.

Looking up from his phone, afflicted by a dreadful, dreadful cold, Sammy caught a glimpse of his friend, dancing in the snow. Now, yes. He should be prancing about in it too, in crude spite to his maturity who’d scowl him with countless a glare, as his pretentious brother had. It rarely snowed and rarer still did it ever set. But, Sammy didn’t sign up for this poor excuse of an afternoon, he didn’t want to waste his evening in the woods, surrounded by a bleach white landscape,

Troublesome Twin Teens



Christopher had taken an abundance of snacks out of the fridge, Mr Goldfield wasn’t kidding about there being a 'truckload in there', even that was an understatement; there was enough food in that fridge alone to supply a fallout bunker for decades to come. With some tinge of regret, Christopher had swiftly eaten most of what was in there, in a bid to quell the burning sensation that ate at him ironically. Se

"Every man is a divinity in disguise, a God playing the fool" - Ralph Waldo Emerson



“This world of ours houses two types of people… those who take. And those who are taken. The conquerors who raise armies so vast all nations tremble at its name. And the conquered, who slave away beneath the kings that laugh amongst themselves and toast with gold chalices. Ourselves even - humanity, who are left to the whimsical del