Jungle Trek

Story by skynero19 on SoFurry

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An old story that I wrote last August for a writing group and only just now got around to incorporating comments... Whoops X-D Enjoy three vore scenes in increasing detail! The first one is literally just a mention, while the last is almost half of the story.

Contains: oral vore, light nudity, cartoon-ish digestion, light disposal, prey POV ingestion3,170 wordsAll comments welcome!


The tropical jungle vacation was going to be an exotic adventure and hunting opportunity for the wolf. He had always been in to hiking the mountains near his home, and the thought of trekking through the rainforest was something that had been on his bucket list for a long time. And adding the thrill of tracking and catching new prey was... Well, hunting was just a part of what he did. He was wolf. Top of the food chain and all that, and he lived for it.

The initial travel was uneventful enough, though the flight was long and the pretzels not nearly enough for him... He met a cute 'roo on the way to the trail head at the edge of the jungle, and while the two disappeared into the trees chatting happily as any two hikers might, the wolf pushed their pace in an effort to wear out the young Aussie. Trying to test another person's athletic limit was always a bit of a gamble, but this time it paid off, ultimately earning himself a very filling and relatively easy dinner later that evening. The poor, exhausted 'roo fell asleep almost immediately after they picked a spot to camp for the night, making the wolf's meal very simple and straightforward.

When he woke up that next morning with a belly that was still domed but now lacking any defining bulges, his mind wandered back idly to the question of what it must be like for everyone he'd eaten through his years. What did it feel like to be swallowed alive? It had always been a passing interest of his, the lupine often being casually curious as to what kind of sensations they experienced traveling down his throat, getting cramped in his belly. He had absolutely no desire to find out, of course, the pred's curiosity being simply academic in nature.

He belched, sending a few parrots from the canopy flapping away as he tasted the 'roo on his breath and licked his lips. The wolf hefted himself up to his feet, readying himself for a great day of working-off-that-meal-hiking, even as he adored the extra weight he was now carrying around his midsection. He tended to go on his hiking adventures shirtless anyway, whether he used the opportunity to hunt or not. Wearing nothing but hiking boots, cargo shorts, and a backpack made it easy to handle when his gut hung out in front of him.

Eating that 'roo didn't really count as "hunting" to him, though, as it had been far too easy. There had been no real planning, no stalking, no chase, and no real struggle either because of how he had worn the marsupial out. He had come down to the rainforest partially because he loved the idea of trekking through it, but more so because he had always wanted to taste some of the exotic species that were down here... He licked his lips as he walked, going through the potential list in his head: tapir, mandrill, capybara, ocelot, lemur, kinkajou, caiman, condor... Maybe even a Komodo dragon or jaguar if he could manage it!

His vacation was slated to be a whole month, which in normal life might have meant eating five or six other people he might run in to, as any one same-size meal could keep him sustained for several days. Here in the jungle, though, he was finding his first 'roo meal to be depleting quickly... Part of it was the sheer exertion of trekking through the rough, overgrown landscape. His quick-burn also came from the jungle air itself, which (unsurprisingly) was hot and muggy and incredibly energy-draining whether you were moving or not. He guessed he would probably go through meals at a rate of one per every two or three days out here.

The wolf very quickly began learning how to locate the nearest stream, both to get water to drink and to soak himself to cool off - "wet dog smell" be damned. Not like he had a traveling buddy (anymore), and there were certainly hundreds of other smells surrounding him, many of which much stronger than his own. Especially some of the plants... He was confident enough in his own masculinity to stop and smell the flower every once in a while, after all.

He went to sleep the third night with a mostly flat stomach, and by the time he woke up the next morning he was definitely hungry again. The problem was that, aside from the 'roo he ate the first day, he had yet to come across another person on his month-long trek through the jungle. He realized he might have to retool his thinking... If it was this hard to find the exotic rainforest people like he had initially planned, he'd need to just snack on smaller animals as he was able to find them.

The wolf managed to slurp down a small feral iguana sometime late morning, but even snagging some of the natural critters was turning out to be more of a challenge than he anticipated. Being limited to the ground was part of the problem - he was NOT an adept tree-climber at all, so trying to catch a bird or a small monkey up in their natural habitat was likely a non-starter. The lack of people populating this section of the rainforest was starting to frustrate him... Though, considering he was still within a few days' walk of the nearest city, maybe the lure of structured life had drawn most of the nearby forest inhabitants out.

His plan to follow the river deeper into the forest soon paid off, surprisingly. That evening, as he was about to round a bend in the river, he heard some humming. He peeked through the trees and ended up seeing a gorgeous river otter bathing there, humming and then singing to himself, thankfully masking the sudden growl of the wolf's stomach. He licked his lips, drool filling his mouth, as he saw that what little amount of clothing the otter had was hanging on a nearby tree. The otter's pure tenor voice provided some noise cover as he disrobed as silently as he could, dropping his backpack, shorts, and boots on his side of the river bend. The canine made his way through the trees and out of sight over to where the otter's scant clothes were hanging, planning to wait until the otter came to dry off to make his strike.

It happened in a flash and a splash; after five or ten minutes of bathing, the otter finally gave a final chitter and made his way over to his clothes. The wolf held his breath until he heard that webbed paw grab something, then spun out from behind the tree and leapt upon the shocked mustelid, sending both of them back into the river. Being back in the water would in theory be to the giant river otter's benefit, but the wolf had already grabbed his arms mid-jump and managed to clamp his jaws down on the other male's shoulder.

Large as the wet, writhing river otter was, the wolf soon enough managed to drag him back to shore and reposition his jaws right over the mustleid's face. The other male finally tried yelling at this point, but it was all muffled by the wolf's muzzle as he felt his jaws stretch wide over his meal's head. Otters being as streamlined as they are, essentially long tubes of fur and muscles, the wolf's jaws didn't even pop as he started swallowing and getting his lips all the way around his prey's shoulders. Each wiggle and thrash the smaller male made only helped its descent into his throat, making the lupine moan around his meal slightly at the feeling of the pleasant stretch in his neck while he relished the ripples of his peristalsis around the otter.

With no parts of the otter significantly wider than any others, the wolf made fairly quick work of his dinner. His stomach began bulging out wonderfully as his jaws made their way over the otter's nude hips, leaving just the legs and meaty rudder of a tail sticking out. The lupine relaxed his throat then, simply letting the otter's shape and gravity do most of the work. His screaming prey thrashed as much as he could in the wolf's caustic gastric chamber, unable to stop his slow slide into it.

Soon enough, those webbed feet slipped past the wolf's sharp teeth, leaving only the otter's tail in that maw as the screaming seemed to give way to sobbing beneath the fur, skin, and muscles of the predator. The wolf clicked his jaws shut with a happy hum, paws going to patronizingly rub over the various bulges in his belly as he suckled on that meaty rudder freely, ignoring the muffled wailing and twitching from his gut. He belched around that tail, the bulges in his midsection becoming more defined as that somewhat quieted the prey inside. He relaxed in satisfaction for a bit... At some point, he figured the acids from his stomach really began their work because the struggling momentarily kicked up a notch again. Still, he ultimately fell asleep right there, naked on the riverbank, with the tip of that tail in his mouth; only the unconscious, passive muscle movement overnight finally caused that too to slip down his throat.

After waking up the next morning, he enjoyed a particularly buoyant morning float in the river before relieving himself, the newfound contents of his gut finally forcing what was left of the 'roo out, the wolf using the otter's clothes to clean his rump afterward. It wasn't like the otter was going to need them any more anyway, after all. With some understandable trouble, the wolf pulled his hiking shorts back on, then donned his boots and backpack to make his way deeper into the jungle.

As he got deeper, he was able to find and catch more small forest creatures like ground rodents, fish, and another iguana, which made up for the fact he wasn't able to successfully pounce an ocelot who had been on the hunt herself. At the same time, he was very much simply enjoying his trek through the rainforest, with all the sights, sounds, and smells it had to offer. He went to sleep exhausted but happy each night.

The seventh night, though, he awoke from his sleep well before morning. There was a weight on him, which didn't make sense since he hadn't fallen asleep with anyone next to him... In the first moment or two of grogginess, he couldn't discern exactly who or what was covering him. Then whatever it was continued moving, and the realization sank in: every part of his body from his toes up to his armpits was wrapped in the coils of an anaconda.

He yelped and started to struggle, his arms still free as they began trying to grab the round profile of the snake to pull it off. The anaconda was having none of it, though. With a hiss and surprising speed, the mammal was rolled over once or twice as the coils suddenly lashed his arms to his sides, effectively immobilizing him. His wiggling also caused the snake - not a sentient one, he guessed, as it let out another hiss but no words - to begin squeezing him. It soon hurt, but the squeezing seemed to level off the instant the wolf whimpered and stopped wiggling; it seemed that the snake was not keen on crunching him to death.

He felt the snake's forked, flickering tongue tickle his nose, causing him to open his eyes after being screwed shut in pain and fear. The snake's eyes clearly showed no intelligence behind them, but he didn't get very long to look as he closed his eyes again soon, not wanting to look at what would happen next. The snake's mouth opened, then closed over his nose and chin. At the moment, it didn't feel like the snake's mouth was big enough to eat someone like him, but of course he knew how snakes worked.

Even with the absolute minimal amount of his body in the snake's mouth, he also got his first experience as to what it felt like to breath in the stale, humid air inside of a predator. He didn't enjoy it and started struggling again, getting an appropriate squeeze in response to shut his movements down. Every nerve, every muscle, every instinct kept telling him to get away. Any time he tried even a minor movement within those coils, though, they clamped down around him.

Without hesitation, the snake methodically began walking its jaws up his muzzle. He tried arching his head out of the way, then wheezed as a particularly strong squeeze gripped his chest, making him momentarily limp. It was the weirdest sensation he had ever felt, those fangs working their way up his face, poking at each point as the snake's mouth effortlessly grew wider and wider. He opened his eyes again just in time to see the snake's nostrils pass over his eyes. The diffuse moonlight of the forest provided just enough light through the sides of the snake's mouth to give him a closer-up view of a snake's maw than he had ever wanted.

His wet nose poked the back of the snake's mouth, making it hard to breath against the moist flesh as he soon felt his ears overtaking by the advancing jaws, which very quickly after that collared around his neck. He sputtered a bit as his head began sinking down the snake's throat from the moisture, mucus, and relative lack of air, which unfortunately made the anaconda squeeze some more around his torso. At this point, though, he felt like he was starting to lose conscious control of some of his muscles, survival instinct causing occasional spasms that then worsened the crushing grip around him.

His shoulders posed somewhat of an obstacle for the snake, of course. Slowly but surely, though, the anaconda's jaws made their way around the widest part of the wolf's body, the joints dislocating as they were designed to do. From that point on, he knew he was a goner, a few tears leaking out of his eyes as he felt the serpent's body start making an S-shape around his head and neck. The S then straightened out to help slide him inward; he assumed the snake's own peristalsis probably wasn't all that strong, at least not when its neck was stretched out by the widest part of its prey's body.

As he struggled to accept his fate, he realized he was finally getting to "satisfy" his curiosity about what it felt like to prey as they were eaten alive. He focused on the sensations around him... The soft flesh enveloping him, the muscles massaging around him, the perfect darkness inside of a predator... It wasn't even as noisy as he might have expected, maybe because everything was muffled, or maybe just because the snake wasn't actively swallowing even as its lips made their way to his belly button. If it wasn't for the fact that it was uncomfortably wet in here, (or the fact that it meant death,) he thought this whole getting-eaten-alive thing wasn't that bad of an experience... Then again, maybe that was the predator side of him trying to spin a positive argument out of it, to ease the justification for all the people he had himself eaten alive before...

A few minutes later, the anaconada's lips made their way past his crotch and rump, and at that point the coils around his legs let go, and he thought he felt the serpent actually begin swallowing, now that more of him was eaten than still sticking out, and that the snake's neck was getting closer to its normal size. Free of the snake's grip, a pulse of hopefulness caused all of his muscles to wake up and see what movement he could do - which essentially wasn't any. He was too far consumed already. He whimpered a little bit as progress sped up, but there certainly wasn't much he could do at this point. He thought his head might have entered the anaconda's stomach by now, but it was hard to tell.

His knees were pushed together as they slipped through the snake's mouth, and soon his ankles were squeezed against each other too. Even though the snake wasn't fully done with him, it was at this point that none of his skin or fur could feel outside air, as his feet were still clad in his hiking boots, and there was a certain finality in losing that last bit of sensation, even before the finality of feeling those jaws envelop those boots and close around them.

Close they did, though, and a swallow or two sent those boot-clad feet down the anaconda's throat with the rest of the poor wolf. Any motion he made now was at the mercy of the giant serpent, the wolf currently forced into a somewhat-tight curve as the snake's muscles held their own shape and simply forced the former pred through them. He was certainly getting light-headed by now, but with all the sensations surrounding him, including the spectre of death, he found himself unable to just let go and fall back to sleep.

After what seemed like hours, the bloated anaconda began to move. The wolf felt himself straighten out slightly, then begin a slow, laborious side-to-side motion as the snake attempted moving forward. Apparently there was just enough air leaking down from the snake's mouth to its stomach to keep its prey conscious, if barely. Soon, he was surprised to feel his feet angle upward, followed by his legs - this snake was apparently trying to climb back up a tree! And, after a little effort to get the wolf inside of it vertical, it seemed to succeed. Even in his current situation, the lupine had to marvel at the serpent's strength, able to slither its way up a large tree even after almost tripling its body weight by having consumed him...

The anaconda ultimately settled itself on a large branch, which turned out to be rather uncomfortable for the wolf inside as he was bent over the branch, the snake letting its looped coils hang on either side for balance and support. The ache kept him awake long enough that he guess when the sun began to rise, just based on the cold-blooded animal's body temperature... But his predator just sat there calmly on the branch, absorbing solar energy and thinking nothing of the wolf inside of it that would, eventually at least, be digested.

It would take a loooong time for the serpent's digestion to really kick in, though, and the wolf did not want to wait for the burning to begin... And maybe... He wouldn't have to... His mind had been foggy for so long... And the fog was starting to pull over him...