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A Vore-Torn World - Page 67 - Dump it Out - By PurpSoul - Overview
You know that she really loves a well seasoned, well browned man. She's been after you for so long, you doubt she'd eat you if she can't eat you the way she likes. You quickly grab the pan and tilt it over the side of the counter, letting it hit the ground with a crash, sending veggies everywhere.

"Well that wasn't very nice."

You yelp and spin around to see your weighty neighbor standing in the doorway, staring down at the mess on the floor. She doesn't seem amused. You didn't hear her come back in, the door never opened... suddenly you realize that she never left. She just closed the door, then came back. To cook you. To eat you.

"I-i-it was an accident!" you splutter, stepping backwards. She clicks her tongue disapprovingly.

"It's not nice to lie, Freddy. Now why'd you go and do that? Why'd you have to ruin my dinner?" She starts walking toward you, and you recoil in fear as you realize she's reaching under her skirt to take off her panties.

"You have no idea how long I'd been looking forward to cooking you, seasoning you... God, you'd have been fantastic. Now... well, now you're gonna go to waste. In more ways than one, you'll find."

You're backed up against a wall. "Y-you don't have to do this! J-just wait until next time, m-maybe you'll get another chance..." you rattle off. She seizes you by your shoulders firmly, and you squeal in fear. Your heart thumps noisily in your chest, and you whimper as she takes a deep sniff.

"Oh no, you're not getting away with this. I don't take kindly to having all my hard work thrown on the floor. Especially not from a cuck like you." She forces you to your knees before her. "You have to be punished. I promise, you'll wish you'd just let me bake you."

She moves her hips forward and your head slips under skirt. Your faces is squashed between her flabby thighs, and you grimace as you rub against her sex.

"Please..." you say, but then she moves you back further, until your face is pressed against a different hole. You catch a whiff of whatever she ate last, and you wince in disgust. "Ugh, g-god, not like this!" you cry, and she chuckles cruelly.

"Hmm, don't like the smell? Get used to it, that's gonna be you pretty quick. Let me give you a little preview of what I'll be doing with you later..."

A blast of disgustingly hot air washes over your face, and your nearly vomit as the fart smothers you. You retch and splutter, thrashing and squirming in a desperate attempt to escape what you know will be a horrid death. Her thighs are clamped around you, and she holds you tight until the sickening stench begins to fade. "There'll be more where that came from when I'm through with you, Freddy. Take a deep breath, you're fixing to be in some deep doodoo..."

On that note, she sits her slimy hole down on your face, and with a sickening squelch, your head pops inside. She wasn't lying. It's positively rank inside her pucker, and you scream in terrified horror as you begin your stinky ascent through her bowels. It's a long, long trip, and every inch is torture. Between the sweltering heat, smothering stench, and crushing walls of your inevitable grave, you can hardly scream. You feel your feet slide inside with no resistance, while the fat woman grunts and moans with pleasure. Her insides pulse around you, eagerly rushing you to your death. You begin to sob as you squirm, utterly defeated and humiliated. You give up your struggles and let yourself be sucked up to be digested.

When you finally splash into her rancid stomach, and digestion does start, you renew your struggles. The pain is already unbearable. Her stomach burns the filth off of you, then the clothes.... then go to work on your skin. You begin to thrash wildly, pressing and beating against the walls as you try to stay out of the searing pool of acids.

Mrs. Mosley pats her gut contentedly. You've made absolutely no impact on her frame, and your struggles don't even make her tummy wobble. She picks up the mess of foodstuffs you made, throwing it all in the bin.

"Maybe this will teach your bitch of a wife to eat my postmen," she mutters. Your screams of agony are barely audible from within her well padded midsection. She belches nastily and chuckles, shaking her head. "Honestly, Freddy-boy, you were a bit of a disappointment. I thought you'd be more satisfying, but you're just pathetic. I've eaten children with more fight than you."

You're too busy dying a torturous death to respond. You're immersed in acids up to your neck, and you your entire body feels like it's on fire. Your head slips under for a second, and you fight back up for one last desperate cry. Then you dip back under the hellish pool for the last time, and you scream no more.

Mrs. Mosley prods her stomach. "Really? That it?" she says with a sigh. She continues cleaning the kitchen to erase the evidence of her presence. Your body is boiled down to a mush and sucked back into her intestines. Soon, nothing is left of you but a load of waste, littered with broken bones and bits of clothing. Before she leaves, the woman that destroyed you squats over the welcome mat, and your filthy remains plop out. Then she closes the door and heads back across the street to her house, one last fart sounding from her backside.

Later, Dana opens the door, slightly annoyed that you never showed with her snacks, and steps in something soft. Then the smell hits her, and she stares down in disgust at the pile of husband on her floor. Gritting her teeth, she turns her gaze across the street, a cold look in her eyes.




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