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A Vore-Torn World - Page 110 - Aftermath - By PurpSoul - Overview
After the last whistle blows, you and your teammates stand about on the field, staring up at the scoreboard. There's a sick feeling in your gut as you turn towards he sideline, where you can see Coach Amy standing with her arms crossed. The cheerleaders stand behind her, smirking or miming what they're about to be doing to you. She jerks her head in the direction of the locker room. You swallow the fear welling up in your chest, and head towards the locker room with the rest of the team, like cattle to a slaughterhouse. Some, perhaps even all of you will only leave that room packed away in a brutal belly as you are churned down into paste.

You all file in, eyes wide and hearts pounding. After you all get inside, the girls follow, lining up around the room and surrounding you. Coach Amy enters last, glaring at you all angrily. Her gaze lingers on you, and you can't help but squirm. You feel a bit safer as Millie walks in with the rest of the cheerleaders. She gives you a sympathetic smile and winks.

The Coach stands at the head of the room, her jaw clenched. Unlike most women, she actually does take the game seriously, to a certain extent. She takes pride in having the best football team... the best trained monkeys. You can feel the anger coming off of her now. She says nothing, and, after a moment, simply walks out, leaving everyone hanging. You've played six games under Coach Amy, two seasons, and you've never lost. There were a few close calls, but you've managed to pull it off every time. Normally, after a game, she'll say a curt word or two, and tell the cheerleaders not to eat anyone. If a player does especially badly, she might condemn him alone to a night of digestion, but she always made sure to warn the girls not to eat the team.

Tonight there are no words... and no warning. The girls glance at each other in confusion, and the boys tense and swallow nervously. There's a brief moment of intense silence as the two groups watch each other.

"So... does that mean we can eat?" a short freshman girl pipes up, eyeing the nearest boy. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Millie edging nearer to you, and you sigh in relief. She won't let you leave through the toilets.

"Man, it's been ages since we had a big dinner!" one complains. "I say we dig in. They lost, after all, and Coach didn't say not to."

The cheerleaders all seem to agree with that sentiment, and they make their advance. Several boys are seized and pulled away from the group as the girls prepare to eat. Millie takes you by the arm, claiming you as hers, and you offer no resistance. You see the little freshman girl pop some guy's head in her mouth and begin to suck it down, gulping him greedily up to his butt in a matter of seconds.

And then Coach Amy is back. "Stop." She says in her usual hard voice. The girls all freeze, some with boys halfway to their mouths. "They don't die tonight." Several of the girls groan in disappointment, and the freshman with a half eaten football player between her lips pouts and points at his ass with a pleading look in her eyes. "Is that James's butt? I guess you can have him, since you've gotten him that far. No one else, though."

The young girl makes a happy sounds and slurps the rest of him up eagerly, patting her bloated belly happily. Poor, unlucky James squirms and screams, and you feel a pang of pity for him. Other girls pout and glare enviously at the short cheerleader's full tummy.

Coach Amy turns to you. "This is your only chance. You should have won that game. The only reason, and I mean the ONLY reason I'm letting you off is because of your record so far. Don't do this again." You swallow, mouth dry, and nod. She turns and walks away, leaving the locker room deadly silent, while players shudder in relief and cheerleaders glare in angry desire.

The silence is broken by a thunderous fart from the full freshman's backside, signaling James's demise. You make a note to stay far, far away from her. He didn't last two minutes inside her. She giggles, blushing, her friends scowling enviously. Millie takes your arm and leads you out.

"She's right, you know," she says as the two of you walk back towards the school. "You really should have won." You can't really argue with that, so you nod dejectedly.

"Better win the next one, babe. Coach was really enjoying that undefeated title you gave her. I'm not sure I'd be able to save you if you gave her two losses. I can only protect you so much, you know." Then she giggles. "I might find myself dating a pile of shit if you lose again, and that would really stink!"


Maybe it's the way she says it so casually, so nonchalantly. Maybe it's the way she laughs about it. Maybe it's just the stress of being in danger all the time, maybe it's the frustration of defeat. Maybe you're just sick of her attitude. For whatever reason, that jokes fills you with rage, not just for you, and not just at her. You feel angry for all men and boys, angry at all women and girls. You're sick and tired of the way they treat you. They mock you. They humiliate you. They strip away your rights, one by one. And then, after a lifetime, however short, of constant harassment, belittlement, and mockery, they eat you. They stuff you down their greedy throats by the thousands. You die a truly horrific death in their bellies, before they shit you out and forget you, like yesterday's sandwich. Even Millie, a girl that claims she loves you, cares for you, causes you to endure so much pain and embarrassment. Your fists clench and your jaw tightens, your head positively throbbing with so much suppressed fury. You want to let it all out, to tell her everything. You're so fed up with being the obedient little boy, the docile pet just waiting to be slaughtered for its meat. She's your partner, not your owner!

Can you keep it suppressed, or do you let her have it?
Choose
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