After Party

In honor of tumblr banning feedism let's take a moment to remember Sherlock Holmes being like "hello Watson every time I see you your waistcoat's a little bit tighter, and I'm noticing that a normal amount" in like 1890. Lighting a candle. Pouring one out for the noticing it a normal amount community

no, seriously, you would not believe how many fish this guy can eat!

Marcus returning to (mostly) human form after gorging himself on some poor soul. His stomach acid is extremely strong so while his skin/body can stretch to accomodate prey it doesnt have to for long before this is all thats left of them.

Name a food you like to eat/stuff yourself with and I’ll see if you pass the vibe test👁️👁️

Please reblog this is you fully support trans people in the feedism community!

Trans women on bbw blogs, trans men on bhm blogs, and nb gainers not being misgendered

I want to know that there are good, respectful people in this community

@Geoastrocat

silly doodle

The first time I brought him a meal, it was an accident. I didnt know what he was, I didnt know what would happen.

He had no name that I could speak, no true shape that he would show me, but he had hunger.

I brought him more. People who wouldn't be missed. People who might have deserved it. People I barely thought about once they were gone.

I watched him take them, jaws parting to accommodate them whole. The silence after was always the most satisfying part. Quiet. The confirmation that the world had swallowed them up, and no one would ever know where they'd gone.

Except me

Then, after, I took care of him. I brought cool water. I pressed my hands to the swell of his stomach when he was too full to move. He shifted and groaned, his voice like claws scraping against old stone. This was my ritual.

I should have died in that explosion—in the bloom of heat when the car burst into flames. But I walked out of it, my skin untouched, my clothes barely singed. The air smelled of ash and burned meat-- none of it was mine.

I told myself I was lucky. That it was chance. And the confusing nature of the event, it must have been survivors guilt.

But then the shadows started following me. And I knew things I shouldn't.

I told him about it the next time I brought an offering.

He was sated, draped in the darkness, in the basement, same as when Id first found him.

The grisly echoes of his last meal settling in the deep of his belly. I pressed my hand against it, felt the heat of his digestion like a furnace beneath his skin.

and said, "Something's wrong with me."

I told him everything that had happened. He listened, uninterrupting until I had told him everything.

He made a sound that might have been a chuckle. "Ah."

"Ah? That's all you have to say?" I demanded. "I walked out of a burning car. I see things. I hear things. And I know it's connected to you."

"it is."

There was an apology in his voice. He adjusted himself, his stomach gurgling over its latest burden.

"You've been offering me sacrifices for months. You're bound to me now. These are... side effects."

I stared at him. "Side effects."

He stretched, his form shifting, a rippling shadow in the dark. "Devotion has power. And you've been quite devoted, haven't you?"

That horrified me. I didnt want to be his devotee. "I just like watching you eat."

"That," he said, "is close enough."

Had he tricked me?

"So, what, I'm your priest now?"

"If you want to be." He tilted his head, regarding me not in the way a human or animal would. "Or you can just keep bringing me meals. Either way, the benefits remain."

I let my hands press into him, kneading the firm swell of his gut, feeling the way his stomach gurgled beneath the pressure.

A god’s belly, full with an offering I had given.

"You're very proud of your work," he said, amused.

Again, I smoothed a hand over his belly flesh. Like being allowed to run your fingers through a lion’s mane

A strong rolling gurgle answered my touch, a sound deep, growling, proof of the work being done inside.

His belly was stretched tight, but not quite like mortal flesh. It shifted strangely under my hands, half-solid, half-shadow, as though his body couldn't quite decide if it needed to follow the rules of the world it inhabited.

The weight of him was immense, his form languid with satisfaction. I pressed deeper, kneading slow circles against his full belly, feeling the dense pressure of his meal, the warmth of it rolling back at me. He groaned, long and low, and his stomach clenched beneath my hand.

“Hhhroourrp—” The belch tore from his throat, vibrating through his chest and against my palms.

I petted his stomach, gentle, praising. No part of me wanted to stop doing this.

do NOT swallow nagas tail first!! directional friction means that it’ll be very difficult and you might even lose your lunch (hehehe)!

instead eat them headfirst, and once you’ve got their human half down your throat you’ll be AMAZED at how easily they slip down into your belly! the positioning of a naga’s scales makes it so that even if they’re trying hard to get back out, any sort of movement from them will just work them even quicker down your esophagus :)

um. any nagas reading this look away this is private

Prey pinning a pred down to the floor, the pred nearly twice the size of them and still being unable to get up, the prey leaning in real close and telling them how good they're gonna look as a bulge inside the pred's stomach, how well they'll squirm like the good little meal they are, while the pred is just so confused they can't say anything, stuttering over and over until their prey tells them to hush up and open their mouth. The pred swallows their prey easily, and as the prey slides down their throat the pred is so embaresed that food managed to intimidate them like that.