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The Fulfilment of Desire

A story by Zantesuken

Today will be the day I ask Tyler to eat me. I've thought about it for long enough now, I simply can't spend another day on this side of his granite grey fur. I think he knows I want it, he damn well teases me with it enough, rubbing his belly after dinner, belching loudly when I'm in the room, even joking with me that should I annoy him he might pack me away inside his gut. Said with a smile, I could never convince myself he was serious about it, but the thought sure made my legs tremble.

I have no doubt he can do it. When I first moved into the dormitory I assumed naively this guy was just some freak of nature, a stallion towering about eight feet compared to my dwarfen four-and-a-half (a respectable height for a cat otherwise, unlike those burley, hulking lions with their ripped chests, pounds of muscle and great, all-encompassing jaws...). Of course it was only natural for a legendary crush to evolve, though I never expected anything sexual to come of it, let alone anything vore related. He was friendly to me; I think he found my size amusing, and so in some endearing way I became his little sidekick - a sidekick with benefits.

Tyler had an on demand tap of females, he was after all a stallion - a big one at that, yet our closeness had grown into a passive, unspoken relationship of humble admirer and gracious master. Over the months I tasted every part of his perfect, godlike physique, becoming ever more familiar with his body until I could smell him coming from several doors down. There was no romance, only mutual appreciation, and I felt no worse for it. It would ruin it if his fierce masculinity was diluted by the sloppy sentimentalism of love. We didn't need love - we had lust.

But it was above all things unspoken. We never discussed it, and when it felt right it would happen; if not, not. Each week passed in a dream of bitter tastes and aching orifices, my infatuation with my studly roommate swelling all the while. For however much he shared with me he kept his unsavoury eating habits behind closed doors. It was understandable, because while predation was entirely legal in society it was still considered a taboo. Those who indulged in its sultry lifestyle were the usual suspects; lions, tigers, bears, but occasionally herbivores were attracted to it, no longer bound by their animalistic instincts. While it was taboo to discuss the practice, it was simple enough to indentify its adherents, for the large meals and protein rich diet led to a dramatic increase in size and muscle mass, something Tyler clearly had in abundance. Of course, this niche of society is fuelled not only by the hunger of its predators but also by the curious little furs like me who can not but wonder what it feels like inside their warm, sloppy stomachs.

So going up to him I know I'm going to break our debauched covenant, though I trust he will not disappoint me. With him lying on his bed flicking through a car magazine I approach tentatively while my heart's racing and my knees weakening. Here I go.

"Tyler, can I ask you a personal favour?" I say, my airy feline voice causing him to raise his long, smooth muzzle out of his reading. He looks at me curiously, surprised I have the courage to confront our many months of back-handed tomfoolery.

"Sure, go ahead." He replies with his disarmingly cool tone. How could I possibly feel nervous around him? I take a deep breath and open the floodgates.

"I want you to eat me. Tonight." I pause. "Whole." I add, assertively. All he does is look at me with unchanging eyes, still curious yet cautious. I feel my heart begin to sink in my throat. I've just blown it all, I think, no more blow-jobs, no more rimming, never will he let me serve his body again after this debacle. I have to convince him if he refuses; there is no going back.

"What makes you think-" He starts, slowly and defensively. Having prepared for this, I interject violently.

"Oh don't be coy. It's bloody obvious you do it all the time. I've seen your bloated gut after those weekends you have away, and you know I've wanted this since the day I laid eyes on you." I take a breath after the outburst. He is pensive - clearly he does not object to the idea, but I want to make sure I've got him on my side.

"I know we don't talk about this stuff Tyler, but you know what you do to me. You've given me so much, you've opened yourself up to me in ways I could only dream of; except in one regard, the one that we both want more than anything else." I let this sink in, and then deliver my final punch. "Take me inside of you Tyler. Tonight." I watch as my words flow into his pointed ears and into his thick skull. Slowly a smile spreads across his thick, black lips. I've done it.

"Ok. Tonight you're horse food." He says calmly though with a hint of playfulness.

"For real?" I stutter, now faced with the arduous task of convincing myself this is what I want.

"Well, I don't usually eat friends, so I'll leave it up to you whether or not you want it to be a five minute stay or a permanent addition." Taken aback by the confusing muddle of his acceptance, generosity and morbidity, I can only murmur out a heartfelt 'thank you'.

"Any other requests while we're here?" He asks cheerfully. I ponder upon it. Aside from the obligatory pre-meal fellatio I decide upon something particular.

"Could you wear your mane in those little knots for me? I think you look god damn gorgeous when you have it like that." I propose sheepishly, blushing madly. He laughs softly as this.

"If that's what you want for your last day on earth I'll be happy to do it." Is his welcoming response, though his fatalistic remark caught my attention like a needle prick.

"I thought you said you would let me out if I wanted?" I ask, wanting to clarify. As much as I want to feel his stomach pressing down on me from all directions, I don't particularly want to die either, even if it is the best way to go.

"Yeah, I did, didn't I? Well think about it, but I'd sure as hell enjoy it more if you chose to make my gut your cosy bed for tonight, and I think you would too." With that he goes back to his magazine leaving me thinking long and hard about what to do.

The afternoon was a flurry of some of the most heated passion we had ever had, as if Tyler was telling me it would be the last. Currently he is in the bathroom cleaning up. Once we were done he pulled me off his body and headed for the door, telling me with a sly smile that in an hour I was his. In that hour I listened to the shower, hearing the soap suds roll off his foamed body onto the tiled floor with soft little 'plap-plaps'. It would take him some time to tie his mane up after that, and as he quietly did so I had to make up my mind.

The door to our room slowly opens. There, on the threshold, is Tyler. His fur is groomed and he carries the fresh scent of soap mixed with that rustic smell of horse. As I asked, his mane is tied in a string of neat little balls as if here were a racing thoroughbred. He is naked; his sheath hangs limply upon his hefty nuts, dozing peacefully, while his glorious expanse of an abdomen is on full display, rolling with crests and valleys of toned muscle. Beneath his charming face is a little black bowtie wrapped almost chokingly about his trunk-like neck.

"Wow." I manage to say, lost for words before this awesome spectacle. He holds a noble and grand pose in the doorway before relaxing and walking in, beaming.

"You like it when I brush up?" He asks as I stand to meet him, my head fittingly on level with his small, elegantly formed navel.

"'Like' doesn't cover what I'm feeling right now." I run my paws along the solid surface of his abdomen, pushing upon the palette of muscle to feel it effortlessly resist me; soon I would feel that resistance in reverse. "Tyler, this is everything I've ever wanted..." I said with hushed breath. I had hoped not to get emotional - so much for that.

"Have you decided how long you're staying?" He asked softly, cupping my small head in his steady paws, pressing me gently into his midriff. Beneath his grey fur was a chaotic world of shifting fluid, pulsing organs and pressured gasses, all delivering a diverse and soothing soundscape to my awaiting ear. From the outside these guttural noises were arousing, but how would I feel when they were all around me, the soundtrack to accompany my own ingestion? As much as I lovee vore, as much as I lust for Tyler, I do not want to die.

"How long does your prey usually survive in your stomach for?" I ask, still mesmerised by the odd combination of his rock-hard flesh and the softness behind it.

"Depends on how much air I swallow with them. Usually ten minutes, at least that's when they stop squirming." Ten minutes, I thought. How long is ten minutes inside a stomach? A YouTube video, a movement of a symphony, a coffee break. How do these things compare with ten minutes locked inside this stallion's gut? Ten minutes could kill me, could five? Would five be enough time to absorb the wonder of the experience? I could always come back and keep pushing for longer; of course assuming Tyler holds his promise and lets me out. I admit; the thought of him lying is not one that I consider, though the frightening result arouses me more than anything else. That would really confirm his predatory nature and prove to me his worthiness as my master and indeed, killer.

If I were to die tonight that would be the way; I would reveal his true colours. If not, I would get to live through an experience very few have ever returned to speak of.

"Five minutes then." I say, firmly.

"Are you sure? Not tempted by a hot, smelly night being worked into my next dump?" He says with a cheesy grin.

"Charming, Tyler, really, but I think I'll start off slow. You can always tempt me to stay longer next time."

"That is if I let you out, of course. You're assuming I'll keep my word."

"I trust you." I say softly, nuzzling into his stomach before looking up at his big, caring eyes, not entirely sure I do but excited by the uncertainty. There is a slow, foreboding growl from his abdomen, announcing his intention to begin. I feel the tips of my fingers and toes tingle in anticipation.

"Five minutes inside my stomach coming right up. Enjoy your stay." Is the last thing he says before kneeling in front of me, his head still a way above mine. He takes my small and slender paws in his and guides them both up to his maw. I watch, stunned, as my paws are led into the sultry heat, my wrists and lower arms vanishing between his soft, drooling lips. I feel his supple, broad tongue twitching beneath my fingertips, already being washed in thick and slimy horse spit. Soon they are nudging at the back of this tongue where it slants down into the tight gullet. The muscles there are tensed, firm yet slippery. Now with my elbows up to his jaw he takes the first swallow.

The throat dilates sharply beneath my fingers as my whole body is dragged forward against his. In an instant I am up to my shoulder in his maw, my elbows and everything onwards now constricted in a fur-tight hug in his neck. Having been forced against his body by his powerful swallowing, I now lay upon him with my flushed face in the blasting line of his dilated nostrils. I smell his stale breath, the smell of hunger, of an empty stomach desiring fulfilment. I suck it in, already in love with the body aromas produced by this stallion. His tongue rubs along my upper arms, making my fur stick up on end. The sound of him tasting me is almost as exquisite as the sumptuous sensation; a whole host of sloppy licks, the smacking of pools of saliva and the laboured breathing, all complete the scene of being eaten alive.

His lips push up against mine, dabbling them with the pleasant warmth of his spittle. His dull purple tongue slips out between my outstretched arms and taps my chin, slithering lovingly up my cheek. It prods at my slightly parted lips. I allow it to enter, sharing a sloppy kiss with my roommate before he consumes me. His meaty tongue is as wide as my entire mouth, so it stretches me as he pushes himself deep inside; but I savour the feeling of the pulsating organ filling my maw, breathing through my nostrils as I am choked on the mucous coated flesh. We hold this pose for a minute or so with me sucking on his tongue, all the while his throat idly flexing around my wriggling fingers, buried inside his unmoving neck.

He pulls out, a few strands of saliva arcing between my lips and his. Now with the tongue cupping my chin, Tyler prepares to continue his meal. His jaws part wide open, impressively so, giving me my first up-close-and-personal view of the gruesome panorama. My furred arms fill most of the space between the rows of blunt teeth, matted with a film of spit before suddenly disappearing at the back, as if they had been severed at the elbow. Huge, pendulous strings of slime connect between the rows of teeth, many quivering under their own unstable mass, collapsing with a splat before another reforms in its place moments later. There is a tapestry of rich, fleshy colour, from vibrant reds to regal purples, all mixed and mottled together in a fusion of shade and hue, glimmering in the slick interior.

Never before was there such clarity in my life: this is beauty, this is where I belong, surrounded by all this hot, slimy flesh. I felt liquid on my cheek; both his encroaching saliva and my own barely suppressible tears. As he prepared to swallow for the second time I hear myself rambling to him, almost subconsciously. "Oh Tyler...Tyler....Please...Oh God...Ty-"

I am cut off as he swallows. My entire head and neck is engulfed in the maw, my arms gripped savagely into the compressing tunnel of the gullet, my torso sliding further up along his. All around me now is the fluidic noise of his mouth, drowning me in the sensual cacophony. The noise of swallowing was the best though; a long, slick sucking noise as I was drawn slowly in followed by the resounding smack of the gulp which tugged me inwards abruptly. My entire face now lays flat upon his gooey tongue, sandwiched between my upper arms, and I waste no time in nuzzling and licking away at the tender flesh, making my appreciation clear.

His teeth lower against my exposed neck, the hard enamel pushing upon the cartilage. I knew he would not bite; but the fact he was playing rough drove me wild. I respond with a teased yelp as he softly rubbed those blunted rocks across my lubricated fur, blasting me with more of his hot, odorous breath. This is not a usual act for the stallion I figure, he is toying with his food, with me. He wants to continue however as I feel the jaw rise up and the throat flex. I will soon be greeted by the eager clutch of the gullet. His paws run along my sides, caressing me as if calming me for the next big heave. In one great swallow, aided by a push from the outside, I am ingested all the way to my waist in one smooth, organic motion.

The throat accepts me as if it were a tight, slick glove, allowed to slide through its muscled folds and bony rings without hindrance. I groan - loudly - as I pry open the narrow tube with my paws, my face encased by hot, trembling flesh on all sides. It is like sinking through oil, soft and luxurious, at least while he was mid-swallow. Once my motion stops the throat becomes rigid, suddenly a vice of many steely rings all pulsing and writing against my intrusion. Now it is difficult to breath. What little air there is stinks - now not of his soft, welcoming breath but of the harsher, acidic belly - and my jaws are firmly clamped shut in the press. My nostrils are clogged with slime, but still I grab what little air I can, electrified by the potent stench that will only intensify.

Now he really began to tease me. Upside down, struggling for breath and locked in humid darkness, his adept tongue slithers along my belly resting in his maw and begins to poke at my already raging erection, pointing down against his chin. A horse's tongue is a wonderful tool, one I had felt many times upon my eager meat, but now I was feeling it a hundred times greater. He teases the tip and the shaft before tickling my furred balls, starting to faux-chew upon my abdomen, pressing it up against the roof of his mouth before relaxing. His tongue wraps around my cock and pulls it away from his lips, tension building in my groin as he holds it between my drooping legs. Like a slingshot he releases it, letting it slap lewdly against his chin, flicking a glob of pre onto his chest.

I had no idea Tyler was such an artist when it came to eating furs whole. Again and again he fumbles with my helplessly exposed member, manipulating it anyway he sees fit between his lips, teeth and tongue. It's been many long, pleasurable minutes since the last swallow and still he toys with me. I'm growing dizzy from the blood rushing to my head and the gullet ever tugging and writhing, not resting until I'm inside the stomach.

Slowly and loving he places the tip of his tongue beneath the flared tip of my cock, and gently guides it into his maw, sandwiching it between the faintly bumpy tongue and my glossy belly. He finds where my head is in his throat, just above his ribcage, and places his paws on me. I feel them through the tight flesh, his thick, stubby fingers tracing over my wedged muzzle, eyes and ears. He gives me a squeeze, listening to the creaking of his cartilage and the squelching of his spit around my skull.

Keeping one paw on my submerged face, he brings his other to my rump hanging exposed from his now dripping muzzle, and after slicking a few fingers with the excess drool running along my legs, he deftly slips one beneath my tail. He had set up a three pronged attack on my body: his hand teasing my trapped head, his fingers penetrating my pouting anus and his maw now sucking sloppily upon my tortured cock.

I try to resist as long as I can. I know he wants me to cum; he wants to taste it as part of his meal, but I fight back, almost playfully and certainly in futility. His tongue tries to tantalise my raw flesh but I hold on. His throat flexes, dousing me in more thick, ill-scented ooze but I resist. The second finger makes an entrance into my rear, but I withstand. Tyler had built my stamina well I damn well was making him know it. If he wanted his meal he would have to make me cum hard on my terms.

The third finger is too much though. With my ass spread wide, cock raging and head dizzy I feel my climax approaching. Reflexively I go to grab my meat with my arms, but of course these are held firm far below me in the throat. My legs kick feebly as the pleasure approaches. My tail flicks, and I wrap it around Tyler's muzzle, almost tightening it like a belt. Getting the idea, he squeezes my torso painfully hard into his palette, sinking my cock into a writhing sea of taste buds. I yell into the heated darkness as I explode onto his tongue.

I hear his delight upon tasting my seed, using his tongue to smear it over my belly and sides as I continue to expel more and more of the creamy stuff. Soon his maw is brimming with as much of my juice as his saliva, bursting with the exquisite taste of cat. I am exhausted after such a powerful orgasm, yet still surrounded by the tastes, sounds and smells of being eaten, my cock does not recede. I know I have another load ready for the stomach; and I know I will deliver it soon.

Tyler withdraws his fingers from my rear slowly, feeling my ass shrink around them as they recede. Content he has abused me enough for now, he goes to finish me off. The paw on his throat caresses me gently, while the other cups my butt-cheek, giving it an affectionate squeeze. There is a long, loud and deep shlucking as he begins to swallow, the throat relaxing and allowing me to slip further through the luscious folds. He pushes my rear into his maw then gulps, sending a powerful kick down his throat and pushing my whole body down inside him in a sharp, blunt motion.

This swallow brings me inside the stomach: the holy land. First my paws and arms slide through it before my head and neck are shunted inside, the orifice sealing about my ribs. Immediately I am faced with the festering stench; vomit, acid, bleach. There is a trace of his breakfast left, the lingering odour of rotten sausages and bacon somewhere buried in the panoply of stink. I choke, I splutter, but I love it. Every meal has faced this horrible concoction and ultimately joined it; I should be privileged to be breathing it, for it is the signature of all who have made Tyler the stallion I adore.

Now only my paws and the tip of my tail remain outside of his body, casually being licked and slurped by the sexy equine tongue, one gulp away from freedom. My arms, now free to move, pad around inside the stomach chamber; a process that intrigues me as much as revolts me. My paws brush against the frictionless walls and the hot, gooey folds in them. Thick, sticky clumps of frothy slime dwell in these pockets; food that is not quite digested yet. I see nothing in the darkness, yet I gather the space is no larger than the interior of a beach ball, by with the folds stretched out it could easily expand to accommodate me.

I long for him to swallow; but again he teases me, keeping me in limbo. He sniffs at my wriggling toes, breathing on them to make them dance. Slowly he draws them into his muzzle, gently nibbling along my soles as if there were carrots. Now he licks them, slowly, agonisingly as I am forced to breathe the dank, choking air inside his grumbling gut. Two inches of my tail remain in the outside world, and he bats it around with his tongue, running it along his lips before sucking it in between them.

No part of me remains out side of Tyler now. I am entirely inside his athletic body, but not where it counts. Still he toys with my paws and tail in his maw with my legs and stomach compressed in the gullet like a tinned sardine. The stomach, of much the same disposition as me, growls. It growls so loudly there could have been a lion sitting inside; such was the volume at the heart of my predator. Finally, giving into his ravishing hunger, the stallion pushes my paws to the back of the tongue and bids them farewell, swallowing firmly.

Now there were a series of continual swallows, each serving to push my large body into the relatively small sack. My head presses into the gooey webs of slime in the pit before burrowing into the folded walls, causing them to unfurl and become taut like a balloon skin. It becomes rigid and forces my skull upward along the wall as my abdomen is funnelled in, displacing all the foul fluids and gloop that had been stewing here since breakfast. More of me entered, and the elastic walls simply gave way like an accordion belt, wrapping me into a slimy ball of cat flesh. This was heaven, the feeling of filling up a predator's belly; feeling the organs around you shift and reposition, feeling the stomach stretch and sag as the throat relentlessly pushes, feeling the hard wall of the abs against the churning stomach wall. My feet and tail finally join me, fresh from the sloppy maw, and I tuck myself into the foetal position, that being the proper thing to do inside the gut of a predator.

Now fully inside, the organ trembles and quakes around me, adapting to its new, bloated size. It wobbles, almost floating inside the horse's body, bobbing up and down as I get comfortable, preparing for my short stay. All around me is the smell of digestion, the wonderful, violent smell that tells me I should be afraid. The hot, tingling fluid too should alarm me, but I relax and let it slop over me as the organ twitches. It is a surprisingly pleasant environment. I expected the stench of death, but I thought there would be less room, less air, but I can move and breath well enough, even if it is only the stretching of a leg or moving of an arm.

I understand why this is when Tyler belches. It wouldn't be complete without the obligatory belch to seal the dirty deal. I grin in glee as he does so, feeling the hot, bilious air bubble up around me, flowing out of my sack and taking my time with it. The walls contract, brining my chin closer to my pelvis and my knees close to my ears. Yes, this is more like it. Now I am truly his prey as he wipes the errant spittle from his lips, savouring the taste of cat on his breath.

He gives me a hearty slap through his hemi-spherical gut, signalling the start of my time inside him. The shockwaves ripple along his taut skin and through the jelly-like contents of his gut, the echo giving me a picture of the volumes and spaces around me. He begins to walk, I feel the bobbing in his gut, causing frothy liquid to seep and churn around me with each step. I feel something I did not expect to feel after being eaten: the sensation of being carried inside another - it is angelic. I feel weightless, as if I am floating, supported on every side by the stallion's soft, supportive flesh. For these five minutes we are one; or better yet: I am him.

He lies down onto his bed, again causing a tumult of the contents surrounding me, a splash of it hitting my eye. It burns a little, like chlorine in a swimming pool, but I blink a few times and the pain fades. Even though he is now lying, I feel no change in my position; the stomach has locked down upon me and now dictates how and when I move. It pulses around me and spurts a jet of incredibly foul smelling slime onto my chest, followed by a few more sharp kicks. I am being digested like any other inhabitant of this incredible place. Good, I think, hit me with everything you have; I want to feel what it's like to be living prey.

Meanwhile, Tyler has began masturbate, his long equine tool slipping free of his sheath. With about a foot of the mahogany, pink-mottled flesh to play with, he wastes no time in layering globs of pre-cum across it, getting it nice and slick. He can see my paws, knees, and the back of my head making an outline inside his distended gut. He likes that image, that of his roommate curled tightly inside his might stomach, but he would like it more if I were struggling.

"Start squirming" He orders, and through all the layers of flesh that separate us I hear his command. I decide to go one further. Taking a paw to my already over-sensitive cock bathing in the tingling slimes, I began to jack off, making sure to rock my pelvis and shoulders to make the most movement possible. Though they are feeble, my predator feels them, watching the bulge under his muscles come alive as if fighting for its life. This is something he can jerk to.

The both of us spend the next few minutes pleasuring ourselves. The stomach however does not approve of my ministrations, and responds by increasing its offense against my living flesh. It squeezes so tightly the air is forced from my lungs, making my ribs squeal. My pumping hand becomes locked in place, unable to continue my pleasuring until the grip relents. Now, I think, now is the truth of digestion. Acids and enzymes are in full flow, I feel them eating at my fur and flesh. They are warm and electrical, so enjoyable; and combined with the tightness and intimacy of the compressions I feel only pleasure where most would feel the touch of death.

I feel Tyler press his firm, equine rod against his now churning stomach. I do my best to writhe against it, but now my motion inside the belly is wholly unpredictable. I am in the throes of digestion, I struggle now even to hold my cock the convulsions are so strong. I have air but it is thinning. My five minutes is up. I suspect I am approaching ten. I begin to wonder if Tyler was serious when he asked if I trusted him; now I will find out.

I feel him moving; not jerking any longer, but walking. I bob sharply now there is less slack inside the stomach. I feel myself fading in the heat, but I am calm. I breathe deeply and tell myself that I am alright, that I am perfectly safe under Tyler's watch. The stomach disagrees, spurting more and more foul juice onto my face and chest, attacking my fur with a fiery, prickling assault.

There is a grand convulsion, the strongest yet. I feel a snap near my paws as one of my toes is crushed by a tensing fold. I would scream if I had their air too, but I find no air comes now. There is only the coat of tingling oils and the onslaught of a crushing stomach. I realise now how naïve I was, to believe a predator, however civilised, could eat for fun and not for food. As the rhythmic contortions grew to a point of agonising pain, I felt myself orgasm for the final time, the sensation of weightlessness returning, lifting me up into a tangible freedom, neither divine nor mortal, but a synthesis of the two.