STORY 3


“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome, welcome, to the third biannual International Vore Competition! Could the food volunteers who have not yet done so please make your way to the check-in counters to confirm your assignment? Thank you, and we wish you all a wonderful day!”


Fran�ois stood on the incredibly long table in the equally long room, and smiled a little nervously. He still could not quite believe that he was here. He looked around, marvelling at how different eve

STORY 7



As Xavier stood on the table, he wondered how it was possible to feel simultaneously excited and disappointed. The two feelings seemed to alternate within him with equal intensity, as though vying for supremacy -when they weren't simply combining to increase his confusion. He tried his best to brush the latter aside, and to enjoy the moment. After all, he was excited for a reason, and every moment he enjoyed now would be one of his last.


He was at this year's International Vo

Story 14


“Here we are.”


Yves typed the code on the access panel -beep, beep, beep, beep-, then waited for the click before pushing open the heavy door. He stepped into the entranceway of the residential building block, and leaned against the door, holding it open for his guest. It was an old door, its thick wood ageing but still solid, coated in now shabby, dark green paint peeling off in hard layers. The building's fa�ade was typical of a uniform 19th century Parisian style,

STORY 17



Brian Tahitoterea glanced out through the window of his small surburban flat at the wide, fairly empty street, and the light grey clouds drifting in an otherwise clear sky. Rain had been forecast over Auckland, but there was no hint of it this morning. Losing interest in the weather, he clicked on his computer mouse, opening up a page on one of his favourite websites. An index of recent topics appeared before him, informing him that the vore forum had been active overnight. Casua

STORY 21



New Year's Eve. And, for once, it was snowing. In a smallish countryside town of the English Midlands, the lights shone bright through the back window of a cozy house, and a Christmas tree twinkled in a corner of the main room. The back garden was frosted over, the grass covered in a very thin layer of snow. Voices and laughter drifted out into the cold air from within the house. A back door opened, and a young woman stepped out.


She was wrapped warmly in a thick winter coat

STORY 36



Raindrops pattered lightly against the thin pane of glass that shielded Abena from the autumn cold. The sky was grey, heavy with thick clouds, and the wind whistled down the street, stirring fallen leaves, blowing the rainfall in slanted drops against the window. Sitting at her computer, the young woman glanced briefly at the water trickling down in vertical rivulets. Indoors, it was not particularly warm, but the very smallness of her flat gave it a cozy, sheltered feel. Like hom

STORY 51



It was not snowing. Which was hardly surprising, really, but was a little disappointing. Having experienced a white Christmas once in England, Cherry had harboured the secret hope that the same might happen where she lived, here in south-western France. The air was cold, but remained stubbornly above freezing.


Still, given the circumstances, that was probably a good thing. The young woman adjusted her scarf to keep herself warm as she stopped out of the heated restaurant int

STORY 59 - part 1



January 1st. It was late afternoon, and the sky was white, heavy perhaps with the snow that was forecast for the night. That monochrome whiteness hanging over the city would soon darken into evening, and the onset of night, bringing the first day of the year to a close. For most people, the new year had brought little yet, reserving its surprises and events for the weeks and months to come. For just a few, however, the events of the coming hours would be the most eventfu

STORY 59 - part 2



Antoine woke to the sound of whispered voices, and the feel of sunlight warming his face. For a moment, he was uncertain where he might be; his surroundings felt unfamiliar, even as his senses emerged gradually from sleep, clarifying to offer him a better grasp of the room around him. He was lying on a mattress, with his bedcovers half flung off, and the cushion he had used for a pillow had slipped away during the night. He opened his eyes, with a slight groan, and looke

Story 67


It had been an unseasonably warm spring's day in Newark, Delaware, in the north-east historic heartland of the United States, though that warmth was now fading with the sun, a far cooler evening settling over the city. Josh Rees, however, remained unaware of the temperature outside, sitting at his computer in his smallish third floor apartment, facing the window but paying it little attention. The bright bulb of the desktop light in a corner banished the dark, leaving him unaffecte

Story
69
London. Ella stood for a moment at
the window of her pleasantly warm flat, gazing idly out of the window
at the streetlights, and the dark grey clouds gathering above. It was
bitterly cold outside, a facet of English winters that she had taken
several years to get used to, and there was talk of snow.
Subconsciously, she crossed her arms and rubbed them, as though to
ward off the cold that might seep in through the transparent
windowpane. Thinking back to her childhood and adolescence i

Story
73
Mike Risser
turned a corner from a bustling street in Cairo to a somewhat quieter
side-street, and, for about the fourth time, pulled a folded piece of
paper from his pocket to check the address. Was this the right
street? It seemed to correspond to the map… He peered ahead, trying
to spot a building similar to the one on the printed photograph from
his official invitation. That one over there, maybe, with those two
people just entering it? The twenty-seven year-old from Pretoria,
ta

Story
76
“Order!
Order! I would remind the hon– Order!
I remind the honourable member from Winchley that if he asks the Home
Secretary, it’s presumably because he’d like an answer. The very
lea– Order!
The very least he could do is listen to it.”
“He
isn’t answering; he’s dithering!” someone called loudly from
the Opposition benches.
“Order!”
the Speaker snapped. “The honourable member for Flydale South does
not have the floor. The Home Secretary has the floor, and must

Histoire
78
Elle allait le manger
tout cru. Mais pas tout de suite.
Ils se connaissaient
déjà un peu. Pas beaucoup, à ce stade. Et pour leur première
rencontre face à face, dans le petit espace à fauteuils près de
l’escalator, au premier étage du centre commercial de cette grande
ville de Provence où il avait toujours vécu, ils se regardaient,
lui s’étant levé rapidement à son approche, elle émergeant
d’une boutique avec des grands sacs dans les deux mains.
« Shivon

Story
80
It was
a fairly small, unobtrusive restaurant, in a fairly small American
town which rarely, if ever, made the headlines. The restaurant, one
of several on the highstreet, sought to draw the attention of
passers-by in playing up its Franco-Belgian theme, defined in a
rustic, ‘ye olde heritage’ manner. The name L’Auberge
was painted prominently on its frontage, in a font meant to evoke
Medieval manuscripts. Today, however, the restaurant was host to
rather more activity than usual.

Story
89
It was
going to be a long flight. Further than Hanah had ever flown.
Accustomed though she was, professionally, to interacting with
tourists from around the world, she had rarely travelled as a tourist
herself. This would be a rare opportunity, and she was, in
consequence, secretly rather pleased that the contest was taking
place right on the opposite end of the continent.
Seated
patiently in the waiting area by one of the departure gates at Ben
Gurion International Airport, she resiste

Story 99
Bling-blong.
The sound of the door
chime rang out round the fairly large ground-floor flat in the south
of Amsterdam. In the main room, three young men lounging on the sofa,
watching the television, straightened up almost as one, looking at
one another.
It’s her.
They all thought it, though none of them said it, smiles of
excitement spreading across their faces. The one closest to the door
sprang to his feet and hurried to go and answer – as though
somehow, if he kept her waiting, s

Histoire
101
Il pleuvait sur la
ville de Lièges. La pluie, balayée par le vent, venait battre
contre les grandes vitres de la salle de conférences à l’Université
de Lièges, où Simon avait pris place parmi le public. Jeune homme
de vingt-et-un ans, brun, de taille et de carrure parfaitement
moyenne, il ne se distinguait nullement, par son apparence, des
autres étudiants ou membres du grand public qui se pressaient sur
les rangs de sièges dans la spacieuse salle. Il avait pris place
dan

Belfast.
Daytime was lingering over the horizon, the light of the gradually
fading sun bathing the city, and filtering through the curtains of
the living-room in a large, comfortable middle-class apartment. The
interior was clean, but not sterile; it felt suitably lived-in.
Tastefully decorated, with bookshelves lining one of the long walls.
A couple, in their
early thirties, sat relaxing after dinner in the living room. The
husband, Sean, fairly handsome yet unobtrusive, clean-shaven, his
hair

The
Vore Restaurant, in the heart of London, had started out as a fairly
low-key, discreet enterprise, news of its existence circulating on
vore fora, but without any wider publicity. It was not even a
stand-alone establishment; it was essentially a couple of rooms off
the side of a smart, perfectly respectable restaurant. Rooms which
you could only enter if you knew what to ask for. The manageress,
Tiffany Hughes, had set it up as a means of drawing in big-spending
customers, and increase the m

name: Cherry
Jouanic (née
Berthier)
nationality: French
age: 31
d.o.b. / p.o.b.:
14/11/1989, Nîmes (France)
occupation: nurse
marital status:
married; one daughter
current residence:
Bordeaux (France)
height: 1m71
ethnicity: Caucasian
hair colour: dark
blond
eye colour: brown
best result at the
IVC: champion (four times)
current record: 45
(Tokyo 2016) (European record)
name: Mitsuko
Takagi
nationality:
Japanese
age: 27
d.o.b. / p.o.b.:
15/5/1994, Nagasaki (Japan)
occupation: auditing
clerk fo

Canterbury,
England. A small city of old picturesque streets and homes, castle
remnants and a cathedral, universities and flowering gardens. Within
that city, a park, on a pleasant spring afternoon. A group of young
people, in their late teens or early twenties, were playing football.
They had set down markers as makeshift goalposts, in some cases as
simple as crumpled jackets on the grass. Though there were only eight
of them present, they had split into teams, kicking the ball around
heartily,

“I’ll just start
the recording now, if that’s okay, and we can simply talk. I’ll
edit it afterwards into a proper-looking conversation.”
Cherry Jouanic
nodded, and leaned back into her sofa, crossing her long shapely
legs. She tucked a strand of her dark blond hair back behind her
ears, her dark brown eyes set calmly on her middle-aged American
guest. He was seated comfortably on the sofa, and she had poured them
both a drink. It was a chilly winter’s day outside, but sunny, the
sun�

“Sold!”
the auctioneer exclaimed cheerfully, and with a sharp bang of his
gavel. “To the gentleman in the rather pleasing top hat.”
There
was a burbling of laughs in the audience. Seated at one of the round
dining tables quite near the stage and lectern, Cherry smiled quietly
to herself, and dipped her spoon into her passion-fruit sorbet. She
ate a mouthful, with polite elegance, letting its refreshing coldness
melt on her warm tongue. She was quite enjoying her evening, so far.
And it w

Patricia
Freimann settled back more comfortably in the chair at her desk, and
dangled her shrunken boyfriend over her open mouth. Her brown eyes,
shining mischievously, looked at the camera built into her computer.
She could see herself, and her now tiny boyfriend Josh, reflected on
the screen. More to the point, her many fans around the world could
see them too. She was live-streaming this.
She
grinned, her smile lighting up her face with teasing amusement. She
was a young woman, barely in her

As the
first round moved towards a close, loud-speakers informed the players
as to how many prey remained to be caught. The round would only be
completed once they had all been tagged. The thirteen competitors
were hurrying around the park, or strolling through it more
leisurely, hunting down the last volunteers who seemed to be having
fun eluding them. Hunger was making some of the young women
impatient, while the rest of their soon-to-be breakfast sat patiently
waiting on the grass, splashed i

“Mmmm…” Patricia breathed, with her eyes half-closed, as she munched appreciatively on her mouthful of pizza. Seated across the cosily intimate table, Carissa watched her with amusement, and smiled.




The two young women were sitting at the terrace of a fairly small pizzeria, in a bustling and largely pedestrianised street in the heart of the town of San Cristobal, in Mexico. The buildings in the street were all

Just for the sake of reference, this is a list of the previous International Vore Competition finals, and their winners.




As established by bedfordsb, there were two ‘unofficial’ vore events (one San Francisco, then one in Miami), during which girls sloshed shrunken people around in their mouth, but no-one actually chose to swallow. The first ever competitive swallow was performed by Cherry, in Lyon, an event which be

The warm bright sunlight streamed in through the hotel window, bathing Patricia’s bare skin. The glare of the sun, made brighter through the windowpane, caught at her eyes. She raised her hands, shielding them. It was a hot day out there, and the warmth of the sun on her brown skin mirrored the hot tingle of excitement inside her.




She was shrunk down to just a few centimetres tall, and was sitting, stark naked, on a white

Patricia ate her first two shrunken people ravenously, gulping them down into her starved, aching tummy, before pausing to watch what the other competitors were doing.




“You’re eating quickly,” the Jamaican girl to her left, right at the end of the line, remarked amiably. “It takes me a while to get them wet enough.”




Patricia looked

Four years ago (2021)





“Hey! You can’t do that in
here
!”




The shout of protest from the row behind her was shrill, and Rosemarie’s gleeful little giggle turned into a gasp of surprise. She turned around, looking over the back of her seat, her pale-pink shrinker still in her hand. The woman

The following evening, three men in their early or mid forties approached the hotel restaurant. They were chatting and laughing, carefree. They were on holiday, and intended to very much make the most of it. Mark was a medium-sized man with hair between a light shade of brown and light red, and a thin line of a beard. Bill was taller, with light brown skin, short-cropped dark hair turning a little grey, and a neatly trimmed beard. Stewart, roughly Bill’s size, was fair-skinned but with sim

Jonas crossed his arms over his bare chest. “You can’t just ignore me. You’re going to have to eat me, you know.”




His wife, Agnes, said nothing. He looked up at her appreciatively as she sucked in a pair of excitedly wriggling, female bare legs. She was making it a point not to look at him. Eventually, she swallowed. Still ignoring him, and stony-faced, she picked up the only other remaining shrunken man

Janine clenched her teeth, straining, as she swallowed her thirty-fourth person. The naked, slender young woman slid wetly down her throat with a fading squeal of excitement. Janine bit softly at her upper lip. She felt excessively full – and rather disappointed at herself.




She knew the inside of her stomach was… capacious. She knew it because she had always been able to eat large meals, pack away more beer than mos

Rachel Roy exhaled a sigh of relief as she pushed shut her front door behind her, and took off her thick winter jacket and shoes. The inside of her flat was pleasantly warm, and it felt all the more pleasant with the thought of a day’s work behind her, and an evening ahead to relax. She padded into the front room in her warm tights, switching on the bright, sunny-yellow lights and closing the curtains to dispel the early winter darkness. Slouching comfortably on her sofa, she picked up her

Carissa sat facing her computer, in her bedroom. Behind her, her window was open, revealing colourfully painted Barbadian homes on the opposite side of the street – and beyond them, a glimpse of the sparkling, sunlit Caribbean Sea. The sky was a perfect azure blue, with only faint wisps of lazily drifting white clouds. Faint snatches of conversation drifted up from the street outside, along with the thrum of a passing motorbike – up through the upstairs bedroom window and to the micr

Carissa was sitting in bed, breastfeeding her son as she read her detective fiction novel, when there was a knock on the door. She looked up sharply. She had reached a point in the novel where a janitor character in a cathedral felt he was being stalked, and was probably about to be murdered, and the knock at her door made her think immediately of Josie and Inès having been eaten in their hotel rooms in Toronto. She calmed herself quickly. It was almost certainly…

To Mistuko’s left, Owen watched from between Summer’s fingers as the young Japanese woman swallowed, the sizeable bulge slipping down her slender throat.




“Wow…” he breathed, a little shakily.




“Sexy, isn’t it?” Summer teased, and he turned his attention back fully to her. To the very young woman who was about to ea

Mitsuko and Summer were seated side by side in the centre, at tables six and seven, while Carissa was on her own at table three – the outside challenger, in a sense. She had insisted, during interviews, that her comparatively low qualifying score of thirty-eight was not indicative of her top-form abilities, and now she was proving it. Her face was serious and focused as she ate her way through her seventh tray. She was showing signs of visible effort, and strain, and was eating almost mech

Ida leaned back in her chair with a soft little sigh of contentment, and placed a hand on her full tummy.






She looked across the dinner table at Marlene, her wife, who was still eating. Ida gazed at her with quiet tender love in her eyes.






They were sitting face to face in the warm privacy of the

Annikki leaned back comfortably in the soft-padded, two-person seat in the middle of the sleekly elegant gondola, and gazed round in quiet marvel at Venice’s Grand Canal.




A ride on a gondola was a bit of a kitsch-romantic tourist trap, but at this moment she felt so happy and relaxed, she really didn’t care. Gianni had wanted to do the classic thing and take her out onto the water, and she had been quite content to l

“Your orange juice and oysters, miss,” Abby said as she set down the second glass full of fresh fruit juice in front of the dark-haired girl, along with a fresh platter of twelve additional oysters. The previous twelve were already inside the girl’s tummy. “And your coffee, sir.”




“Oh, don’t call me ‘miss’!” the young woman said with a friendly little laugh. “My na

Vivee ate up her next dozen oysters, talking privately with Jack now as she consumed the small creatures with relish. She swallowed the last one, letting Jack see the smooth bulge in her throat as she gulped it down, and gave him her prettiest smile.




“Are you ready?” she whispered to him, leaning over just slightly across the table, her warm gaze captivating his. “I’ve still got an appetite!”

As the questions got harder, they got more answers wrong in the third round, managing to bank just £460. Erin was
voted off. The rounds got shorter. In round four, Abena, the only player to receive three questions, got them all right, while Carissa got both her answers wrong and was voted out. Mariella and Billie-Jo had missed one each, and it was Billie-Jo who was sent off at the end of round five. Mariella was ousted in round six, leaving just Abena, Kim and Patricia in

It was a cold, cold night and the sky pitch dark above. But the bright, cheery glow from the Christmas market huts seemed, almost by magic, to chase away some of frosty chill from the air, and kindle a glimmer of warmth somewhere deep and special in Ida’s soul. She squeezed her wife’s hand, only just able to feel Marlene’s bodily warmth through the thick winter gloves they were both wearing.




It was December 5

Bright sunlight poured through the streets of the North African town, its luminosity enhancing the warm colours of the squarish buildings – creamy white, vivid yellow, pastel orange. The
fronds of palms trees swayed ever so lightly in a welcome breeze, under the hot blue sky. There were few people out and about, in what was evidently a wealthy area of town. Escaping the mid-afternoon sun, the privileged local residents were staying indoors, or perhaps some were out at plea

A while later, she
picked up the last of her little people – a fairly short-statured, slender woman. This one would be easy to eat, one last easy mouthful of pleasure. She held her up, with her fingertips pressed gently but firmly round the shrinkie’s bare shoulders, and eyed her. The tiny woman gazed back at her with awestruck delight on her face, and Nelly was pleased to find that she was still feeling
appetite
as she looked at thi

She did. A while later, Anisha sat back in her chair at the dinner table, in the cosy upstairs dining room, and folded her hands over her tummy with a soft little sigh of simple pleasure.




“Okay, Viv, I kind of hate to say it, but… that was delicious,” she admitted, and licked her lips. She had taken a big second helping after the first.




Vivee