8 pm and I’m not bawling as i boil and burn in the belly of a betraying buddy or blackhearted bully til i break into bits of batter to be baked into butt or boob or blubber. Bogus

i’m cold. you should put me in your stomach so that i am not so cold (i will die there)

Okay yes running Rick is funny but he SHOULD have turned into a big rolling rock, or ran on top of a rolling rock

I got hiccups HELP

1 am and I am overflowing with food energy. The absolute certainty that I’m meant to be erased from existence in a maelstrom of agonizing acids and pulverizing peristalsis from the tum entombing me. My last view of the world should be framed by your teeth before I’m swallowed into darkness and death

3:30 am and I am not drawing my last breath from the barest wisps of stale acrid air remaining in your stomach after suffering hours upon hours of excruciating pain from your brutal digestion sloughing the flesh and fat and muscle off my bones while evaporating the tears from my sobbing ruined eyes

one in the morning. can’t sleep. you should murder me with your gut so that i no longer need sleep

early early early in the morning with the relaxing sound of a torrential downpour outside and i’m tragically NOT being brutally murdered in a despair-soaked digestive cacophony that erases me from the face of the earth and leaves only a meat paste to pump through the intestines behind

five thirty in the morning and i’m not taking my last sobbing shuddering breaths while my ruined body that’s become a hodgepodge of exposed bone and eroded skin and sludgy meat soaks in white hot acid in the pitch black darkness of a gurgling belly which is effectively edging my demise and erasure

It would be hot if you actually just killed me and if I did not enjoy any part of the process and also you are larger than me

What if you did horrible violence to my body with your body that is larger than my body and I died from the violence and did not come back. What if your body absolutely murdered and obliterated my body and also it was painful and terrifying and I died crying. That would be extremely erotic I think

It would be so kinky if I were a sobbing trembling wreck because of what you’ve done to me or what you plan to do or what I think you /might/ do and if I flinched at the barest hint of your voice and if horrible despair and helplessness soaked into my bones and warped my body language around you

Can you imagine how arousing it would be if absolute certainty that I was going to die at your hands or other external or internal anatomy of yours filled my fragile consciousness alongside the realization that unspeakable suffering inflicted by you would fill every remaining moment of my life

holding me in your hand and idly breaking my bones one by one in the same way that you snap off the tines of a plastic fork after you’re done with it (this scenario relies on the assumption that other people stim in the same way that I do, by breaking handheld disposable things)

The muffled crunching sounds that interrupt an otherwise wet and gurgly digestive chorus as the muscular walls of the stomach around me squeeze like a tightening fist until my joints pop loose and my bones begin to crack and snap

The essential and tactical inclusion of a l’il skull icon by the belly (or near the mouth after belch)

Douglas Adams is also an excellent source of inspiration for yarns about entire interstellar species being devoured in one mouthful by funny animals

Listen I don’t know how to tell you this but I should die pathetically in drawn out agony within your belly. Yeah it was in my horoscope for today. Yeah it specifically named the two of us and said you need to kill me in your gut while I suffer to my last breath. Yeah exactly. Do you want condiments

I have a problem and that problem is that I'm not sobbing in hysterical despair as I'm dragged down your gullet with all sights and sounds from the outside world drowned out by inescapable darkness and the discordant symphony of your body plunging me towards an agonizing gastric demise

Very important that i never again see the light of day or feel the comfortable warming glow of sunlight or breathe crisp fresh air or feel comfortably dry or have any amount of hope for a personal future because the last horrific moments of my life are being spent in your gut

Every moment I have left spent choking on scant traces of stale unbelched air Soaked literally to the bone in white hot juices boiling away flesh and meat and offal and the tears my ruined eyes produce Churning walls tossing and pulverizing me until my bones snap and splinter

Longing for the pain to stop yet so desperately not wanting to die, begging for mercy that will never come, stewing in misery and moisture and darkness and indignity, utterly dominated and decimated and digested without so much as the slightest conscious effort exerted by you

My life, my unique identity and unknown future and hopes and dreams reduced to a brief moment of savoring and satiation; my wails and screams amounting to a belch carrying the ghost of my flavor; my worth summed up as a handful of calories no different from any other meal

i'm food

I try to avoid the words “death” or “kill” when talking about this stuff since I know most of my friends aren’t into the same level of psychological torture and fatality that I am But also literally kill me. Bring me to a permanent end for the temporary satiation of a hunger pang or for any reason

Use me up in the most primal and total manner possible. Burn me up as fuel in your tank, fuel that your guts will treat the same as the countless meals and morsels that preceded me, despite this fuel being alive and unique and deserving of life. Make my unmarked grave the fat I add to your thighs

incorrect names to call me by: dave, carpet correct names to call me by: meat, snack, morsel, food, junk (as in junk food), lunch, thigh padding, dessert, prey, calorie bomb, belch fuel, delicacy, idle craving, dinner, [gender] dinner, gutslut, snackrifice, hunger pang, tasty, future bowel movement

i am food and not a person i am food and not a person i am food and not a person if i ever try to say that i am a person and not food while begging for my life in the face of gastric annihilation know that i am wrong because i am fOOD

I could be getting brutally digested in the dark sweltering acidic hellscape of someone’s belly and suffering unspeakable pain and despair all the while RIGHT NOW but instead I’m perfectly safe and not even a LITTLE bit teetering on the precipice of gastric death, this is BALONEY

I just want my agency and humanity and future to be deemed less important than your sudden hunger pang or idle boredom snacking so that you subject me to a slow and agonizing demise in your gut while I scream and sob and hurt til my last rotten breath, is that so much to ask for

Your OC should pluck the actual real living breathing me through the fourth wall and swallow me alive and subject me to brutal acrid crushing digestion while I kick and scream and sob until I’m annihilated forever and my legacy becomes a missing person poster and fat on fictional character thighs

Bringing this one back from the dead bird site for Spooky Season 👻💦 (co-starring @stellaedgecomb.com)

woke up in the middle of the night extremely sad and can’t sleep again. thinking very strongly about being slowly digested until oblivion takes me and my life and remains are melded into the flesh of someone else as a positive escapist fantasy

resting my head on your tummy and listening to my future

Gullet is such a good word, it’s classy enough that you can use it in metaphors that aren’t horny and yet it is also extremely horny when used in consumption-based contexts and you can even use it for classy and horny purposes SIMULTANEOUSLY We do need more synonyms for throat tho, for vore reasons

Was reminded of this sketch @azureangelic.bsky.social did of himself using my head as an armrest and my lap as a bellyrest and felt others needed to see it

focusing on the tactile details of those fruit gel candies by envisioning that the inside and outside of my body is like those fruit gel candies all throughout and with a similar flavor and you can take huge bites out of my delicious boneless body anywhere you like until there’s nothing left

can’t tell if i need to be sat on or if i need all my limbs to be ripped/bitten off. possibly both

crushing grinding burning gurgling digestion for the rest of my life

being small around a friend and them biting one of my limbs off to eat and then bandaging the stump up while speaking positive supportive things while i cry and in the end still being friends with them while knowing they’re why i’m missing an arm/leg

My reputation as That One Guy Who Rambles About Vore In Huge Walls Of Text is well established but I also spew out flustered tangents on other subjects and I should document that too; here are a bunch of words I said about asphyxiating under @fairygirl.me’s ass while @stellaedgecomb.com watches 🍑💦

my body is food my thoughts are of being food my heart pumps food essence throughout my bloodstream my soul is food born to be erased in a belly my FATED DESTINY is food i’m food iM FOOD And im’ physically trembling with gratitude for all the friends who indulge me by indulging themselves with me 😖

the most gutted gutslut of all time oh my GffkGG//:,@‘c🍖🍖🍖💦💦💦

drawing evil and fucked up vore things because a certain somebody wont stop being food #azuangocs #azuangart #vore

“gut slut” is a powerful accusation and i’m the most gutted slutted morsel imaginable 🍖🍖☠️💦💦

being called food rather than by name 😖💦💦🍖💦

A tabletop tale starring myself and @azureangelic.bsky.social's Arla 🍖💦

Having a fortune teller show me a vision of my future and it’s just a closeup of your gut

Given that I’m the one reblogging this you can bet the context that led to it is EXACTLY what you think it is ☠️☠️☠️💦💦 All that’s missing is the CRONCH 😵‍💫