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pietropudge · 4 months

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Brenton!Dick Grayson is that hot teacher who's gigantic butt is constantly in someone's face whenever he bends over to help students and you look forward to it every day. You find out he's subsidizing his income by doing OnlyPreds in secret.

a/n — something short since I liked the idea (and Brenton is my favorite titan's actor, next to Ryan), may write a part two!

warnings — vore, not done to us. brief in this but lots of talks of preds and prey and a mention of disposal

words — 2.3k

summary — check the ask!

~~~

It was about that time again. Seventh period—your seventh Heaven. The last class of the day and the one that managed to fly by the fastest because you were actually engaged in what the teacher was teaching. Not because the depths of learning criminal justice in high school was anything life-changing, no, it was the teacher himself that held your attention.

His lesson had yet to start, choosing to do the rounds around everyone’s assigned seat to place their latest essay face down on their desk. You were one of the first to arrive because of how close your previous class was to his classroom, so he handed it to you personally, just as you walked through the door.

“Ah, there you are, the very last one I had,” he said in a way you could listen to on a loop. His hands were now empty, stilted as he almost didn’t know what to do with them. "Nice job."

Your paper had an A-plus and a one-hundred written in red pen at the top. Thumbing through the pages, he hadn’t marked a single thing incorrect with the red ink. “Thanks,” you said, taking your seat. It was in about the center of the class, not too far away from the front but also not off-center in a way that would make looking to the side become annoying. You had to think that, on some level, Mr. Grayson had a soft spot for you by doing all of this. Probably somewhere on the cushiness of his padded ass.

That was the real appeal of his class because he literally put the ass in it. Later on, when everyone filed into his classroom and he was deep into his lecture, he decided to break it off for some individual learning. And low and behold, he was helping the person in front of you who posed a question that must have had a really long answer, because Mr. Grayson bent over, his dark dress pants doing anything but slimming down his figure. His ass was looming over your desk, and while you had your head buried in the worksheet he passed out and the textbook needed to find the answers, you looked up to see what had turned had blocked your peripheral vision like it was the bill of a hat.

Lifting your head, it was his ass, shifting back and forth as he lightly shifted his weight between each foot. His ass swayed as a result, so hypnotic and so close to you. It was almost painful to know how unattainable he was. You wanted him but knew it could never happen. The only issue was that he was unlike the gym coaches, who perved on the teenage girls and even had odd relationships with the star athletes at school. Although, you were glad he didn’t run the risk of getting disbarred from every school within fifty miles of here, because you got to see him every day. Mr. Grayson kept a respectable sense to his actions.

Now, there were some things he did that were simply out of his control. You can't do much about being blessed with an ass as fat as his, so it wasn't really his fault. You were the one staring at it, thinking about getting his attention by grabbing it instead of raising your hand.

Before you could do anything, the final bell rang and you heard his voice call out a few names to stay behind—probably to discuss grades. Thankfully, your name was kept separate from that list.

Returning home, you can’t shake the thought from your head. His ass was so close to you it was almost like you could have dove into the navy blue depths of it! He had assigned more homework that was due tomorrow—a few online assignments with multiple-choice responses, nothing crazy. But all you could think about was him while doing the work. You needed to find release, fast.

A big fantasy of yours was the predacious nature of humanity. Some people could eat others whole, enough to define them as an entire subspecies in Mr. Logan’s biology course. School rules prevented predators from teaching at a multi-meal school of both prey and developing predators alike, claiming that it would interfere with the natural order of the next generation. By introducing older predators into the pool of newer ones, it would run the risk of diminishing predators too weak to fight back against their own kind and prey from society—where it was anyone’s game. It’s why disappearances at school were common, the occasional high-school sweethearts that surfaced being forever in love as one of them would eat the other during their first kiss.

Regardless of the rules, you still imagined that Mr. Grayson had gotten such a fat ass from doing the work, the hard work of swallowing prey like you. While your imagination could carry the session, you just needed a little video to kickstart the fantasy. Opening a new tab next to Mr. Grayson’s preferred site to manage online assignments, you started a search for amateur vore videos. Gulper, BestBelches, and even PornHub barely had anything new that you hadn’t seen already. It seemed that everyone was getting greedy with their recently documented meals. You went to the last site you could think of—Twitter, home to original amateur vore videos, if you knew where to look, that is. A new video was making the rounds through a few accounts you followed and the video happened to land on your timeline, and it was damn near perfect to what you were looking for.

The start of the video was nothing special, a man walks into frame, his thick thighs and general figure reminding you of someone that you couldn’t quite think of. It wasn’t until his ass came into the picture, the cheeks thick and coated with a light smattering of hair that acted as the draped curtains to a head sticking up his ass. That’s when it hit you—this guy looked like Mr.Grayson from behind! Down to the tufts of hair peeking out at the top of the video, his head cut off to keep himself anonymous. The narrow torso leading to his wide ass was also of note, a reminder of the way that Mr. Grayson’s dress pants often struggled to contain him in the ways that mattered. He was standing near a balcony, looking out proudly over the city in front of him. The caption read something generic like, “what a great view.” But it clearly wasn’t the original video.

In the bottom-lefthand corner of the video was a watermark, a link to an OnlyPreds account called TeachingLessons. It didn’t align with the username of whoever posted it, so this must be a teaser for something more. You knew how these things worked and you needed to see the whole video and whatever else was posted on his account. There was a small part of you that hoped that the account didn’t belong to a snack like that guy as you searched for it… you had subscribed to a few too many OnlyPreds that were one-off accounts made to look like they’re run by predators but are actually just posted by the consumer to help the prey out. Whether that money goes to a family member or possibly used to pay back debts, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you got to see one really good video for a steep price without even learning who the predator was, so it was some high-level scam. Hopefully, this was an actual, regular poster that you could imagine as Mr. Grayson in so many different positions. You made the account using your real first and last name but fudging some other details like making your username a combination of random numbers and letters that was unlike your gamertag or social media handles and putting the profile as a random picture from your camera roll that had no recognizable information in it. After going through the painful steps of creating an account and paying for his OnlyPreds, you were free to check out all of his posts.

The most recent post was the video you had seen on Twitter, but it was marked at twenty-six minutes instead of just thirty seconds. You decided to save that for last, taking your dick out and stroking to everything else first, making sure that you had invested in something that was worth it. The rest of the account had videos of him belching, playing with his gut, sucking guys up his ass, and shitting them out in various restrooms and unconventional locations. There was no consistency as the houses all seemed to be the prey’s given how the location changed in each video, so there was an air of mystery that heightened your enjoyment. It made it easy to picture him in your bedroom, leaving you as a pile of shit on your own bed or ruining the carpet, morbidly reminding you and your classmates that you wouldn’t be safe forever.

After scrolling for a while, you ended up at the very last post. It was posted only about a year ago from today, yet there were well over a hundred videos filling this guy’s OnlyPreds. He must have been insanely active, and it made you wonder how much he ate that he didn’t record. You refreshed to save time because you were ready to form the final fantasy in your head. The site reloaded and his most recent video was back on your screen, the clip had sound, unlike the thirty seconds that barely fed your desires. This was much longer and drawn out. The men were both standing in frame at the start of the video, sounds of kissing and their hands roaming around each other, but the former was cropped out due to the anonymity provided. In the background, the window and the city it overlooked were still the same as in the clip you saw—the sun still rising in the early morning when this video was filmed. They slowly shuffled out of view of the camera, some noises of skin on skin and kissing continuing. Then, a deep sputter rang out as if the suction of a seal was broken. That’s where the clip of who you imagined as Mr. Grayson returned into frame, carrying the body of the other man behind him. His head was glued to his ass, a majority of it sucked between his cheeks and encompassing his neck. You almost expected the video to end, but it kept going. The man’s neck disappeared with a few heavy grunts from the man you were calling Mr. Grayson.

He was going down on the guy as the sun rose, the time elapsed to make it a more watchable experience. For all twenty-six minutes, you watched him fit an entire make into his ass. Well, not his ass, but it looked as such since his back faced the camera, so his swelling gut was nearly invisible until everything was almost inside. He had the feet of the man remaining, and you were at the twenty-four-minute mark. In just two minutes, the feet were going and he did a slow turnaround. His swelling gut was flashed to the camera, shaking violently and making a cavalcade of noise from its own activity and from the guy inside. He wobbled over to the camera, taking it off of its stand and doing a quick pan around his gut before the video ended.

Even after shooting a load, you couldn’t get it out of your head. There was a bit of hope going into the next day that Mr. Grayson would give your mind more material to work with.

At first, the day seemed to be amiss. Your favorite teacher would usually pass you by on the way from eating his lunch in the faculty room while you were headed to a different class and express some kind of friendliness, but he wasn’t there today. It gave you a bit of worry that there would be a substitute today, or, your worst fear, he was finally snacked on by a predator with an insane appetite. He did share with the class how he was single and still looking for someone, so he could have been eaten in a failed attempt at a date. Thankfully, your worries were put to rest when you walked into class. He was there with some nice khakis that showed off everything in the front and back.

But he never greeted you and never said anything about the online assignments you did last night—which were auto-graded and had a perfect score. In fact, he ignored you for the whole period until the end. He called out one name at the end of class, and you were dreading to hear who it was. Your name and it was only yours. You ceased packing up your things and stayed seated at your desk. A few students leaving let out an “ooh” or “ah” but were nudged out by Mr. Grayson as he moved them towards the door. He shut it and walked over to take a seat on your desk.

“Do you know of the site OnlyPreds?” He asked, looking down at you.

You were quick to spill out an admittance of guilt like he was interrogating you just as he had demonstrated before in mock trials, ”How’d you find out?"

He reached down, patting your shoulder before getting off of your desk. ”Try using a fake name when you subscribe next time."

"Are you going to...?" You could hardly finish the sentence, so he did for you.

"Eat you? Not as long as you keep your mouth shut. Those videos are secret, but they're proof, and if you have been paying attention in class... you'll know what they can do to me if they get out. Do you really want to see that happen to your favorite teacher?” He paced around, and even though he had threatened to silence you with his enormous ass, you couldn’t take your eyes away from it.

“No..." You softly let out.

He smiled at your obedience, "Good boy, you were always my favorite for a reason.”

#male prey #male vore #male pred #v.ore #v0r3 #vore x reader #v0re #same size vore #fatal #titans vore #titans #dc titans #nightwing vore #dick Grayson vore

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urfavoritewriter · 6 months

Text

Deep Down, Sky High

Content: M/M Vore, Male Pred, Male Prey, Digestion, Same-Size Vore.

Likes & Reblogs are appreciated!

Jackson leaned against the cramped airplane bathroom counter, a sly smirk playing across his lips. The gentle hum of the plane engines was punctuated by the soft gurgling coming from his belly, which bulged noticeably under his fitted hoodie. The chiseled contours of his abdomen were only exaggerated by the unusual distention, every ridge and dip of his muscles more pronounced.

With his free hand, he pulled out his phone, opening the camera app. In the dimly lit space, he adjusted himself to get the best angle. Lifting the hem of his hoodie, he revealed his distended abdomen. The shape was undeniable; there, just above his navel and slightly to the right, was a pronounced bulge, the unmistakable outline of a head pressing softly against the taut skin. You could almost see the despair etched in the features compressed against his toned stomach.

"Guess you should've remembered to lock the door, huh?" Jackson whispered, addressing the subtle movements from within, the almost imperceptible shifts of discomfort. He trailed a finger down from the tip of the head bulge, tracing its path along the curve of his belly, feeling the shivers it induced inside.

He aimed his camera at the mirror, ensuring that his face and the distinct bulge were both in view. The tight confines of the bathroom only accentuated the size of his stomach, making it appear even more prominent. A flash pierced the dimness as he snapped the picture.

His fingers rapidly moving on the screen's keyboard, typing a caption for his new snapshot, "Note to self: always lock the door at 30,000 feet." With a chuckle, Jackson admired his handiwork for a moment before saving the image, a little keepsake for himself, and then posting it to his close circle.

Taking one last glance at the mirror, he gave his belly a more forceful pat, feeling the muffled protest from within. "Hang tight," he teased, pressing down right where the head-shaped bulge was, eliciting a frantic series of squirms and movements. "We've still got a few hours left in this flight."

Jackson, taking a deep breath, nudged the bathroom door open. Stepping out into the dimly lit aisle.

As he began to make his way back to his seat, he could feel every jolt and tremor of the plane resonate through the heavily distended belly under his hoodie. Each step sent a light ripple across the protruding form, the undeniable shape of a person compressed within the confines of his muscled abdomen. It was like walking with an overinflated beach ball strapped to him.

The fabric of his hoodie strained, attempting to accommodate the bulk beneath it. The pronounced shape of a head, arms, and even the bend of knees were visible, making him feel slightly self-conscious. He could sense eyes on him, fellow passengers probably attributing his appearance to overeating or some medical condition. But Jackson was in too deep now; there was no turning back.

He reached his row, pausing for a moment. The challenge of sitting with such a significant addition to his physique suddenly dawned on him. He angled himself, attempting to slide past the passenger next to the aisle. The tightness of the space forced his belly to brush up against the stranger, causing another series of frantic movements within. Jackson whispered a quick apology for the disturbance, his face coloring slightly.

Once at his seat, Jackson faced his next challenge: how to sit. He turned, angling his hips and trying to slowly lower himself into the tight airplane seat. His belly's girth, however, made the process a game of adjustment. The armrest dug into his side, prompting a small grunt of discomfort. The buckling of the seatbelt was another ordeal, the strap barely reaching around the expansive midsection.

Finally settled, Jackson leaned back, allowing his hoodie to ride up just a tad, revealing the bottommost part of his belly. The dim overhead light cast a shadow, highlighting the clearly defined silhouette of the person inside him. He placed a hand atop the most prominent bulge, feeling the heat emanating from it, the soft, muffled pleas for release.

Breathing heavily from the exertion and feeling the compressive force from the tight airplane seat, Jackson let out a sigh.

He reclined in his seat, feeling the gentle throb and pulse of the human within his belly. He placed an earbud into one ear, leaving the other free to enjoy the symphony of muffled pleas and the subtle sounds of his digestive system at work. Picking up his phone, he began scrolling through a playlist to listen to on his XM4.

Leaning his head close to his prominent belly, he whispered softly, "Hey there, you comfy? Probably not the flight experience you were expecting, huh?" A muted squirm replied to him, making him grin. "You know, I was going to watch a movie, but I think feeling you break down might be the best in-flight entertainment I've ever had."

Jackson began flicking through the in-flight entertainment system. Choosing a thriller. As the film progressed, Jackson ordered a fizzy drink from the passing cart, sipping it slowly. Each gulp sent more liquid down, making his belly gurgle in response. "There you go," he chuckled. "A little mixer for the main course. Hope you like cola."

An hour or so into the flight, feeling a bit peckish, Jackson decided to order some in-flight snacks. Munching on peanuts, he said, "You must be getting lonely in there. Don't worry, you'll have some company soon." Finishing his snack and sipping on his drink, he felt a gentle burp rising. "Excuse me," he murmured with a smirk, thinking of the added pressure the trapped air would cause inside.

Throughout the flight, between reading a bit, occasionally nodding off, and enjoying his music, Jackson continuously returned to the sensation in his gut. Each little squirm, each desperate push against his abdominal walls, just added to his satisfaction.

Jackson, feeling the descent of the airplane, adjusted his seat. The jostling from the change in altitude made his belly quiver, and he could feel an especially desperate set of wriggles from within, almost as if the person inside had some hope of escape as the plane touched down.

Leaning in, Jackson smirked as he whispered, "You feeling that? We're touching down in Ibiza. Ever been? Well, I guess this isn't the way you imagined visiting, huh?" He chuckled softly, feeling more pronounced movements as the realization hit his unwilling passenger.

"Beautiful beaches, amazing nightlife, and my favorite, the sizzling sun," Jackson continued, his voice dripping with mischief. "You and I, we're gonna spend a lot of time on those beaches. Just think about it. While I'm basking in the sun, catching a tan, you'll be in here," he tapped his swollen midriff, "experiencing a whole different kind of heat. The summer sun outside and the burning acids inside. A real tropical getaway for you."

He felt another series of frantic pushes against his belly wall, and he tightened his abdominal muscles in response, constraining his prey even further. "Oh, by the way, Ibiza might be your destination, but this," he patted his gut, "is your final stop. The last destination of your journey. I hope you're prepared for the coming days."

Jackson grinned, relishing the idea of parading around with his swollen belly, feeling every jolt, every pang of the digestive process. "It's gonna be a long, brutal few days for you," he added with a dark chuckle. "And by the time I'm ready to head back, well...you'll have become a permanent part of my vacation memories."

#digestion #male pred #male prey #male vore #m/m #painful digestion #fatal #gay vore #airplane vore #passenger vore

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