u/DevouringGoddex

Disclaimer: I put this as promo because it will be for my YouTube channel and socials. I am a IRL human vore and giantess content creator. I won't share the final video here since it is IRL content, however, you can find my videos on my profile or I can even DM you when it's done!

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I am starting a new series of videos of talking about topics around vore and giantess fetishes. Keeping it light and fun, but I am considering also some more serious topics, like feelings of shame.

So! For my next video I am doing "Ask a Pred" where I answer your questions!

Reply to this post with:

• your question (anything you like!)
• tell me the name you want to use, if any (anonymous, your username shared, or a pseudonym)
• if you'd like a DM notification when the video is done

Prairie Song
CW: unwilling prey, prey outlines, forced sex, fatal digestion

Hank wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his sweat turned to mud from the thick clouds of dust that the herd kicked up as they were driven across the open prairie. They had been driving the herd back to the ranch for three days now with another day of riding still ahead. Despite the days growing shorter the sun still was blazingly hot making the round up feel tedious. His body rocked with the rhythmic undulations of his mount, a young buckskin mustang cross. Bleary eyed, he allowed his mind to wander as the seemingly endless herd rumbled around him. 

As he daydreamed of relaxing in the shade on the riverbank near the ranch, he heard an unnatural but musical sound through the din of lowing cattle and hooves pounding the earth. It was melodic and sweet as a warbler’s song but strangely melancholy, like the wind howling before a summer storm. As he listened, Hank thought that he saw the dust clouds swirl and dance, taking on the shape of a woman with raven’s wings and a long braid trailing behind her. It must be the heat, he thought, trying to come up with some explanation for the haunting sound.

"Hank! Wake the fuck up and get after that yearling!” 

A rough voice broke through the strange melody like metal scraping stone. Hank blinked hard and looked around him, his eyes settling on a thin trail of dust behind a yearling who was taking off into the open prairie. 

“On it boss,” Hank shouted. 

He reigned his horse hard to the side, pushing his wide brimmed hat low on his forehead as he spurred her forward in chase. The yearling was running surprisingly fast, forcing Hank to ride hard. The hooves of his mount pounded the earth like a drum, a metronome to the eerie song that still carried on the breeze. He rode for what felt like miles, only once turning back to see the herd as nothing but a distant cloud of brown-gold dust on the horizon. How the yearling hadn’t become exhausted yet baffled him. His horse even had begun to slow down when at last he was able to come up beside the young steer. With lasso ready he spun the rope and released it in an attempt to rope the yearling around his forefoot, a roping skill he’d all but mastered. Yet despite all of his skill, the yearling managed to evade him. With a sudden movement the young steer pivoted to the side before turning heel to run the opposite direction.

“Fucking bastard,” Hank spat, drawing his rope back in and steering his horse around to chase after the rogue yearling.

The strange music was louder now, ringing in his ears. His horse began to ignore his commands, no longer riding towards the side of the yearling but following at his heels, just out of roping range. Hank spurred her forward but nothing could push her to change her pace. Suddenly, she came to an abrupt stop, nearly tossing Hank over her neck as she did. Hank grabbed the horn of his saddle to steady himself and looked up to see the runaway yearling calmly standing beside a woman dressed in a buckskin dress with a brightly patterned blanket wrapped over her shoulders. Her thick, dark hair hung in a neatly plated braid that draped across her chest. Her eyes were closed, mouth open, as she sang in a language that was nothing like words. She sang in the voice of buffalo grass and warblers and the wind of storms and coyote howls. The yearling pressed his forehead against her hip and Hank’s horse sighed, lowering her head.

Confused by the scene before him, Hank didn’t quite know how to react. How is she singing like that, he wondered, and is she the reason for the yearling taking off? 

“Ma’am, I appreciate you calming that yearling down. I gotta take him back to the herd now,” he spoke calmly while trying to be loud enough to be heard over her powerful voice. 

She didn’t acknowledge him at first, then abruptly her eyes opened and locked with his. She stopped singing, a smile curling across her lips. Hank felt as though he was falling into the black wells of her eyes, unable to look away.

“Come. Take him,” she spoke in a clear voice that was rich and slow like sun-warmed molasses. Her sandstone-brown hand rested onto the yearling’s shoulders as he stood placidly by her side.

Hank dismounted and approached the woman and yearling, rope in hand. As he came closer, she began to sing again. This time with words in a language he never had heard before, words that sounded deeply ancient. Where her first song that had carried across the prairie had felt melancholy and strange, this one felt as if it spoke directly to Hank’s soul. A tingling warmth cascaded over him, from his scalp down to his toes. He froze, feeling tendrils of effervescent radiance winding through his veins, extending outward from his heart. His heart pounded against his sternum with rising excitement. She approached him, her hand slipping away from the yearling’s shoulders and reaching out towards his wildly pulsating heart. For a moment he could not remember how to breathe. 

Her hand made contact with his chest, her palm oddly cool, pressing against his sweat soaked cotton shirt. Sensations of pleasure and contentment radiated out from where she touched him and he gasped for breath, suddenly reminded of his body. Her fingers danced over his chest, along his well muscled arm, his shoulderblade, his back, as she circled slowly around him. She brought her face close to his ear and sang softly, her lips brushing against his skin. He could feel each breath whispering across his ear and down his neck or across his cheek. Taking in the sweetness of her voice, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply so that none of her breath would be lost to the atmosphere. His entire focus shifted away from his work as a cowboy, forgetting that he had been tasked with capturing a runaway yearling, forgetting why he had been out on the prairie in the first place. It seemed to him then that she had been his reason for being there for he could think of nothing else that mattered more than her and her mystifying voice.

Facing him, the woman placed both hands over Hank’s heart and leaned in towards him. She kissed him hard, pressing against his thin, sunchapped lips with the supple pillows of her own. He gasped for air again and felt her tongue glide into his mouth, wet and tasting of strawberries. Hank’s eyes closed, leaning into her kiss. Yet his arms hung motionless at his sides, unable to reach out to pull her against his chest, no matter how much he longed to. One of her hands slid its way down his torso, gliding over his belt buckle, her fingers tracing over the engraved image of a coiled rattlesnake, before grasping his bulge. He moaned involuntarily and she pulled away from his lips.

“Strip for me,” she commanded, taking a step back from him.

“Y-yes ma’am,” Hank replied, suddenly finding he could move again, albeit sluggishly.

Without hesitation, he removed his clothes, tossing aside his hat and gauntlets first. He had completely lost all sense of the world beyond the beautiful, mysterious woman before him. She began to sing in the ancient sounding language once more, her voice weaving patterns throughout his senses, binding him to her. He felt there was no other purpose to his life but to obey and please her. No matter what she asked of him, he knew that he would do it. His clothes fell around him, strewn as if by the wind. He stood naked before her, weathered and well chiseled from a life on the range, his skin glistening with sweat. 

The woman threw down her shawl to reveal two massive raven’s wings, sleek with iridescent blues, purples, and greens that gleamed in the sunlight. They stretched from having been so confined, as she strode slowly towards him. Her eyes locked with his, holding his mind captive. He felt compelled to kneel before her, without question or command. He simply fell to his knees, clumsily trying to hide his erect cock. He felt barely capable of movement as desire overcame him. Yet a part of him felt he should not desire her, that this was a trap and he should resist her with everything he had. Nevertheless, he was powerless to her, incapable of lifting a finger against her or even running away. She had captured him and something deep within him knew then: he was her prey.

The prairie siren stripped away her own clothes and approached Hank until the cowboy’s face was directly between her thighs. She reached down and grabbed his hair, pulling his head back and forcing him to look up at her. Her lips curled across sharp teeth, hunger flashing in dark eyes. He looked at her lustily, despite his heart beating with terror. Still grasping his hair, she pressed his face between her thighs, flecked with downy-soft feathers. He instinctively sought out her clit with his tongue, his face pressed deep into her warm bush, taking in the aroma of her intoxicating musk. It was difficult to breathe, she pressed him against her with such force. Gasping for air whenever the pressure at the back of his head released slightly, he took every opportunity to lick and suck at her throbbing clit. Her precum tasted sweet as clover flowers with a slightly metallic tang, running down his tongue and mixing with his saliva. Hank felt his cock twitch, precum leaking onto the earth between the siren’s scaled feet. 

She pulled away from him just as Hank began to suck more deeply on her clit. Releasing him she commanded: “Lay down. Like a good boy.”

The cowboy obeyed her. Grasshoppers fluttered away, wings buzzing in sluggish staccato, as he stretched out on the warm grass. His arms fell to his sides, allowing his cock to stand engorged and aching. The siren stood over him, her talloned feet on either side of him. Her eyes still bright with hunger, she lowered herself down onto his cock, her cunt devouring his member deep within her. Hank moaned, barely daring to glance at the siren who was fucking him on the open prairie beneath the mid-day sun, her magnificent wings shading him from its unrelenting rays. I have died and this is heaven… or hell, he thought, feeling torn still between desire and fear. But all fear dissolved when he felt her cum rush over his cock, lubricating them both with slick warmth. Her singing stopped and she cried out in ecstasy with such power the entire prairie seemed to go silent. Her cunt greedily pulled at the cowboy’s cock, throbbing as her body seized in the throes of her climax. She fell forward over him, catching herself with her hand pressed to the earth besides his head. He reflexively reached up to catch her, grasping her thick waist and belly with calloused hands. She panted, lips parted near to his eyes, her face directly above his. He gazed into the pink cavern of her maw, entranced by fine bubbles of saliva collected between her tongue and lime-white teeth.

The siren laughed, sultry yet mocking, and pressed her weight down on the cowboy riding him. Each time she lowered down she would grind her hips in circular motions on top of him, sending shivers through his abdomen. His senses all came alive at once, overwhelming him. The smooth, rhythmic slap of the siren’s labia against the base of his cock; the musky and metallic scent of their cum; the deep, electric ache that shot along his pulsing dick and teased the nerves of his stomach. He released with such intensity he nearly passed out, his breath rapid, every muscle convulsing with pleasure. Everything went blank for so long that Hank thought he truly had died. When his senses came back to him, he saw the siren standing over him, warm skin glistening with beads of sweat. Her face was stern save for a sly curl to her lip. 

“Take me with you,” she said as a demand, leaving no space for protest.

Hank rose shakily to his bare feet, looking around him at his clothes strewn across the grass around him, crickets and spiders using them as highways. He hesitated, trying to remember exactly where he would be taking her. She sensed his confusion and rolled her eyes rapidly, sighing as she recalled just how potent her charms could be, particularly on men who wandered the prairies for days on end.  

“You drive a herd of cattle and need to bring back this yearling,” she said flatly while folding her wings beneath her shawl. “Now dress yourself and take me.”

The cowboy did as he was told and brought the siren, the yearling, and his horse back to the herd. To his surprise the siren guided him directly to where the rest of the roundup crew were camping for the night, a few hours' ride from where he’d lain with her. As the resting cowboys looked up from their coffees or heated tins of beans, they froze in awe of the beautiful woman perched on the back of Hank’s horse, holding onto his waist to steady herself. The moment they approached with the yearling, the siren began to sing, well before the men could think of what to say. 

Her voice was sultry and clear as a flute, winding throughout the camp like a serpent slithering through tall grasses on the hunt for mice. The men all froze. One young cowboy lost all control of his hand, spilling hot coffee down the front of his shirt without so much as flinching, despite steam rising from the spill across his chest. Her song reminded them all of warm, soft beds shared with their wives or lovers. At first the woman who stood before them seemed to transform into the visage of whoever they had left at home or last lain with. Each man seeing her with a different face. Yet as her song continued the illusions faded away, the features of the women familiar to them melted away, dissolving into the regal perfection of the siren’s face. Her sandstone skin, warm and rich, seemed to glisten like copper in the red light of sunset. The cowboys all began to forget where they had come from, their work, their previously understood purpose. All of it melted away, leaving only her. She was all that mattered now. 

“Strip for me, all of you,” she said, her song still seeming to hang above them like smoke before a rainstorm. The men obeyed without hesitation.

With each cowboy stupefied, she approached the youngest – a greenhorn only 19 years old – who had spilled coffee down his chest. His skin was bright red where the liquid had scalded his pale, hairless skin. She let her shawl fall to the dusty ground, her glorious wings unfurling. Tears welled in the eyes of the greenhorn, thinking that an angel stood before him. She placed one hand over his chest, feeling the excited racing of his heart. Her lips parted, mouth gaping impossibly wide. The greenhorn gasped, caught between lust and panic. His body begged to flee but his mind was too convinced that unthinkable pleasures lay before him. The siren grasped the young man by the waist and thrust him into the cavern of her maw. Saliva slid down his back in viscous rivulets collecting along his spine. His face made contact with the back of her tongue and he let out a muffled grunt. In spite of himself, his cock began to twitch as she thrust him more deeply down her throat. The other men watched in jealous horror as the greenhorn disappeared down her ravenous throat.

The young man’s feet passed over her lips, her long tongue teasing against his soles as she gulped him down, head tossed back. Her dress – conveniently laced at the sides rather than stitched – loosened to allow for her belly to expand. Closing her jaws, she swallowed deeply, forcing her fresh prey to settle deep in her belly. Turning to the next cowboy, her belly sloshing with her movements, she belched directly in front of his awe-struck face. The putrid scent burned his nostrils, causing his eyes to water. Her mouth began to open, gaping before his stunned eyes. He knew then that his fate was sealed, as he stood paralyzed and gazing into the humid abyss of the siren’s demanding throat. He whimpered, partly because he felt he was looking Death in the eye, but also from the intense arousal that began to overcome his senses. His entire body ached for her, every inch of his skin begging to be touched. Such that when she grasped him and thrust him headfirst into her mouth, he released his load merely from feeling her wet tongue and plush lips against his sun-tanned skin. 

Annoyed by this cowboy’s inability to contain himself, the siren unceremoniously shoved him down her throat. She tossed her head back and forced him greedily into her expanding gut. Within a minute she had forced the cowboy into her, distending her belly to such a degree that the lacing of her dress seams gave way completely. She gulped him down and wiped a drop of semen from her lips with the back of her hand. Looking absolutely enormous now, the remaining twelve cowboys felt certain that another fate awaited them. Meanwhile, Hank stood by, watching his siren mistress with awe. She’s even more powerful than I imagined, he thought, marveling at her expanding form. 

The siren’s belly now hung low with the weight of two men, causing her to waddle as she approached the next cowboy. Her eyes flashed with wild hunger, her craving for prey growing with each devouring. Sweat beaded across his face, reflecting the fire light like stars across his black-coffee complexion. Breathing heavily, she forced the trembling man into her eager maw. Her tongue teased at his shivering flesh, licking the sweat caught in the curls of his chesthair. He tried to cry out in fear but only sighed lustily, unable to express the profound panic at the realization of his fate. Each gulping swallow pulled him deeper into the depths of her, forcing him into contortions within the confines of her crowded belly. The men watched in disbelief as her belly expanded to a point that walking had become difficult for the siren.

Belly now dragging across the earth, she hurled herself towards the next man, wings flapping in an attempt to provide her with greater momentum. Ravenously she shoved his naked body into her mouth, her sharp teeth grazing his back, leaving fine threads of blood in their wake. The taste of his blood only excited her more, driving her into a frenzied state. Her dress had become all but useless in covering her body, revealing not only her engorged belly but her firm, rounded ass. Slick warmth slid down from her cunt, dripping down her thigh. Hank tried to avert his eyes, feeling a twinge of shame in witnessing the siren’s arousal, for she had not given permission to him. 

With the fourth prey now stuffed into her belly, the siren was completely unable to move. She attempted to drag herself towards the next cowboy, but could only manage to lift one side of her enormous gut up from the ground momentarily.

"My pet! *OOooURRRPpp*,” She let out a thunderous belch as she attempted to crane her head around to look at Hank. “Come *huff* to me.”

Hank instantaneously snapped to attention, coming to her side. Having been fucked by her, he was now entirely at her mercy. Her control over him was total and complete to a point where he no longer felt fear despite her predatory acts. As he stood beside her, he saw her belly rippling with the writhing forms of his companions: a hand or the side of a face pressing against the wall of her stomach. The sight actually excited him for he understood how much pleasure this brought to his mistress.

“What do you need, ma’am,” he asked in a monotone voice.

“Bring me… huff huff the rest of the cowBOOURP…boys,” she panted and belched, one hand gently massaging her glut. “Feed them to huff me.”

“Certainly, ma’am,” Hank nodded his head politely and walked to the nearest cowboy, still frozen in place by the siren’s enchantments. It was the foreman, his boss.

He grabbed the foreman firmly by the arm and practically dragged him towards the siren. The man’s eyes were wide with terror yet his short cock stood at attention, leaking pre-cum in spite of his fear. Hank half lifted, half shoved the foreman up to the siren’s expectant mouth. Her tongue lolled out, shining with saliva that dripped from the tip in a delicate stream down the mound of her belly. She grabbed the man, pulling the bulk of his body into her maw. The foreman was a stocky man with a prominent gut, which made devouring him more of a chore, but the siren was insatiable. Her throat bulged as his shoulders made their way towards her stomach. She gulped loudly, again and again, using all of her strength to force the weight of her prey down into her belly. With considerable effort, she managed to swallow the foreman, his mass pushing her belly outwards so far that Hank wasn’t certain how she’d manage to eat anyone else.

“More!” the siren cried out, saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were frenzied with hunger, despite her stomach distending so far outwards that she could no longer stand at all. 

One by one Hank brought her the rest of the roundup crew, even the cook. The siren devoured them rapaciously, her belly swelling considerably. By the eleventh cowboy, she was no longer able to reach the ground with her feet. Her thighs spread wide to accommodate the squirming mass of her belly which rounded out beneath her. Her breathing became labored, punctuated by enormous belches that seemed to echo across the plains. Hank was completely enamoured by his mistress and her gluttony. With each man that he fed to her he felt himself growing increasingly turned on, his stiff blue jeans keeping his aching cock confined and unable to rise. He moaned pathetically as he lifted the final hand of the roundup crew to the siren’s mouth, shoving the man’s naked body up her grotesquely distended belly. The man’s legs flinched slightly, a sign that her enchantments were wearing off, but by then he was already halfway in her mouth. His cock slid across the damp expanse of her tongue, massaging him into submission. The man’s legs went limp then and Hank helped to push him deeper into the siren’s throat. With some difficulty she managed to swallow him into her roiling stomach. As he slid into what little space remained, she licked her lips and panted with satisfaction. Her eyes closed, savoring the pleasure of her feast. 

“Anything else I can do for you, ma’am,” Hank asked in a somewhat pained voice, his cock now begging for release.

The siren looked at him, food-drunk and dazed. “Massage… me…” huff huff.

Hank placed his hands onto her bloated belly, running them in gentle motions over the bulging protrusions of his former companions. He nearly wept from the pain of his cock pushing against the buttons of his jeans. To touch her in this state was more than he could handle, yet he could do nothing but obey her and satisfy her every need. Her stomach groaned and gurgled louder than any sound the cattle made. Each bubbling of her digestive fluids sent vibrations along her abdomen which Hank could feel traveling through his fingers and up his arms. He was beside himself with desire. But he only could set aside his own need to focus entirely onto the beautiful siren who had claimed him as her own. His pleasure was of no consequence in comparison to hers.

As the sun rose, Hank rubbed his eyes and looked around the camp. Sleeping blankets, tins, and coffee mugs lay scattered about. No sign of life, save for the hitched horses and the herd of cattle nearby. He stretched and felt the soft mound of the siren’s belly against his back, her breathing slow and labored. Still, Hank had not been able to release, yet now his cock was no longer swollen and pinching against his jeans. A small relief. When Hank turned around to see how his mistress was, he was stunned to see that she had grown immensely. Certainly she looked more plump than before, her belly softly mounded onto her thickened thighs. But she also had expanded in height, now towering above him even as she lay on her side. Astonished, Hank stood back to take in the enormity of the siren. She must be the size of two covered wagons, he marveled. 

She stirred and opened one eye, looking Hank up and down. Sleepily she smiled at him and said softly, “Strip for me.” Hank obliged as before, tossing his clothes to the ground and standing eagerly before her. She beckoned to him with one finger, coaxing him close to her face. Her lips parted slightly and Hank felt his cock begin to rise, still eager for release. Just the sight of her decadent lips excited him. He wanted nothing more than to feel them wrapping around his cock. Even his entire body. He imagined how it would feel to have her suck on him from head to foot, her tongue teasing his muscles. A shiver ran through him as he came close to her, the breath from her slightly parted lips rushing over his throbbing member.

With her enormous hands, she pulled him close to her. To Hank’s surprise, she flicked her tongue against his stiff cock, sending a rush of intense pleasure through him. He was so desperate to cum that already a bead of pre-cum formed, dripping down onto the siren’s tongue. Tasting him, she laughed while circling the tip of her enormous tongue over the head of his cock. He gasped and moaned reflexively.

“Please…” he sighed, “please let me cum…”

“I want you to cum inside of me,” she teased.

“Anything… I’ll do anything,” Hank begged, imagining how it would feel to thrust his cock into her immense cunt. 

Before Hank could even react, the siren grasped him and forced him into her mouth. He felt her tongue pressing hard against his throbbing penis. Saliva coated his face and hair as he was shoved to the back of her throat. Gasping for breath, Hank found himself looking down into the cavern of her throat, which contracted impatiently. He felt his heart pounding, with excitement or fear – he wasn’t sure what he felt anymore. The siren sat up, tossing her head back, which sent Hank hurtling down the tunnel of her throat. His cock slid down against her esophagus, the ridges of it massaging him. As he fell into the sweltering, rank darkness of her stomach, he at last felt himself release. A stream of cum cascaded down over his body and into his eyes, along with a rush of saliva as the siren gulped him down. He moaned in climactic euphoria just as he splashed into the acidic soup of digestive fluids and the disintegrated remains of the roundup crew. Despite the gore surrounding him and the  searing pain of digestive enzymes and acids sizzling against his skin, Hank felt blissful. At last he had found his purpose. 

I am feeling a bit discouraged. I don't take it personally, however, I have been ghosted now several times by people/prey who I am looking to build a longer term connection with. A couple of them I had been considering for in person play. But just when things starts to get very good, they ghost. I am reluctant to get into a RP relationship with anyone at this point. I want it badly. But I just don't want to end up feeling close to someone again only to have them disappear.

I know that there is a lot of shame associated with this kink. And that to be pursued by someone for in person play can be overwhelming. But it really makes me wonder if I should keep trying. It is truly painful to put effort into connecting with someone only for them to disappear suddenly without explanations.

One such experience was especially painful because we had been building our connection for months. I have not reached out to them again for over a month now because they still are connected to me on another site, where I hope they will eventually reach out again. I really miss that connection a lot. But I have been nervous to scare them away forever. Despite them ghosting me, I would welcome them back because the connection was just that good. The thought of it possibly ending for good feels quite painful. I am willing to work with them and build something with them, but I don't know if they can even accept that from me.

So, I am just in a limbo place, wondering why is ghosting so common in the vore community and how to move forward. It is exhausting me and making me feel guarded.

✨ If you've ghosted before, what led you to it? And were you able to stop ghosting eventually?

✨ If you've been ghosted a lot by good connections too, how did you end up handling it? Or did you just give up?