“Welcome ladies and gentleman to another exciting episode of vore-race! As you all know this is the show where bevies of beautiful ladies race through a predator-filled jungle, trying to avoid all those hungry maws and vines and tentacles or whatever. For those who make it, there is a million-dollar prize to be shared amongst the survivors. For those who, well, don’t pass the test, there is the reward of slow digestion and knowing you fed a deserving predator.”
“Well we have a large herd…er I mean group of contestants. Almost a hundred!!! There is going to be a couple of tons of femme-nutrients staying on in the jungle tonight! And hopefully we will have a winner this time. The last two runs didn’t see a single doe succeed in keeping her ass out of a gullet!!”
Daphne paced nervously at the start-line, anxious to get the race started. Standing here amid dozens and dozens naked women, most idly chattering about what their chances of being eaten alive and what predator might take them down annoyed her. The dumb cows took this as a game, a chance for fun while taking a shot at some serious cash. Most didn’t even seem to care too much if they lost and got devoured. After all she heard time and time again that getting eaten was a beautiful and certainly pleasure-filled way to go. People today were simply another part of the food-web, and certainly not on top like in the old arrogant days. Everyone assumed they would be eaten someday and lots and lots of women took great pleasure in sharing every ounce of their bodies with another creature. It made Daphne sick.
Daphne was strikingly beautiful even amid a whole herd of healthy naked woman. 6’1, Gorgeous Nordic looks including ass-length pale-blonde hair (now in a ponytail), milky skinned bearing only the lightest of tans, Large and proudly firm breasts and buff gym-toned limbs courtesy of hours and hours at the gym, she looked more like a Viking beserker-woman than a horny meat-girl looking for a good time in a maw.
What really set her apart was that she wasn’t eager to get eaten. Sure, she knew she would be devoured someday, but she intended to make whatever predator took her down fight for the honor of consuming her. She was not about to rush into some woman-flytrap at the first whiff of pollen or surrender to the spray of aphrodisiac spit at her by some ravenous slug. She hoped to win the money and enjoy herself for years, putting off getting eaten till the ripe old age of thirty or so.
From the conversations around her most of the other contestants wouldn’t survive the day and were not too upset about it. But there were other serious-looking women whose taut body language revealed they too intended to win the prize. They were Daphne’s competition. Along with, of course, the menagerie of woman-eaters that lay waiting between the start line and the cash.
The gun sounded and the race was on. The girls surged forward, a huge mass of luscious jiggling girl-meat, a sleek herd on the hoof. They whooped it up, racing into the greenery like the does they were.
Daphne and a few others held back. They eyed each other warily, thinking the same thing. Let the other sillier gals race ahead into the maws, paws, and psuedopods of the waiting monsters. They smart ones would trail behind and take advantage of the fact that most predators were too busy eating to notice them as they passed by on their way to the cash.
The does began to fall even before the herd even reached the tree-line. A deeply-tanned auburn-haired girl stepped onto an innocent –looking patch of thick grass. Before the doe could react the patch gave way, dropping the startled animal down into a five-foot wide pit, the bottom of which was filled with a fragrant syrupy liquid.
The girl hit the syrup ass-first, immersing herself completely. A second later she shot to her feet and stood there, dripping goo. The syrup was only knee-deep but she was soaked in it and it trickled slowly down her tanned body, hair matted over shoulders and back, her brown eyes blinking furiously as she tried to see what was happening.
She grabbed the grass on the side of the pit, intent on climbing out of the hole. But the ‘grass’ oozed more fluid, this incredibly slick so her already wet hands could find no purchase. She scrabbled frantically but every time she hauled herself up a few inches she would lose her grip and sprawl back in the gathering goo. The muscles in her arms, shoulders and back coiled with effort. She tried to leap out, but could not get a running start and while her fingers once clutched the rim of hole she couldn’t get a grip and fell onto her back. She rose out of the fluid, blinking and sputtering as she spit syrup out of her mouth.
Then she felt the tingle. It started subtly, a pleasurable pins-and-needles feel on skin and crotch but it mounted rapidly. Within a minute it swelled to the woman felt like she was wrapped in a hot wet blanket. She began to sweat under the coating of goo and her heart began to race, causing her to start panting in exertion as if she were in the midst of a bout of passionate lovemaking. .
But it was in no way painful. Rather it was pleasurable, and that feeling of warm euphoria grew by the second. The warmth soaked deep into her body via pores and nerves. It flowed up her vagina like an invading tendril, filling her uterus and spreading through her abdomen. Her anus was no shield and her intestines filled with needful warmth. Unable to resist, she fingered open her anus and vagina, fingers stroking the goo deeper inside her, abetting the intoxicating chemicals as they turned her into a panting meat-puppet. Her belly flared into pleasure as she greedily drank the thick liquid in feverish gulps, the glow filling her torso and spreading out along her trembling limbs.
Moaning she sank down to her knees in the pool, sides heaving, her hands sliding over flushed skin till they found her obscenely gorged labia. She all but tore her lips apart sliding a hand palm-deep into her sex, her fingers working furiously on the rock-hard clit. Her goo-soaked hand spread the flame till her vagina burned like a wet torch. Liquid flew out of her mouth as she screamed in pleasure, her whole body going into an epileptic fit. The trapped woman felt her flesh beginning to soften, to subside into the sweetest of broths, to drain from her orifices and seep into the green tissues of the plant that had taken her. She fell on her back, legs spread and hips pounding like piston as the hole over her began to close, shrouding her and her lethal pleasures in growing darkness.
Some women took time to watch the show, several grinning and tweaking their clits in sympathy. To digest slowly in a warm wet womb, mind and body locked in an orgasmic frenzy was many girls dream. But this was a race and no one had time to watch the happy victim melt so they took off in pursuit of the great prize.
The tree-line was no refuge. As the leading edge of the herd reached what seemed the shelter of the trees an ebon form dropped down from the dense canopy. It was a leopard, and it landed square on an Asian woman’s back, sending the surprised golden-skinned doe crashing face-first into the forest litter.
The woman gave a hoarse scream as she felt claws penetrate her and drive deep into her yielding muscles. Her face bore a look of utter surprise, forehead creased, black eyes wide open, mouth agape, as she struggled to rise. It was impossible with hundreds of pounds of hungry cat latched onto her, needle-sharp claws locking her in place.
The cat growled deeply in the woman’s ear. The woman’s head spun around and the two faces met, primate and feline, prey and predator. The woman stared at the long ivory fangs, looked into the maw and throat that would soon be filled with her still-living flesh. Horror turned to fascination as she could not take her eyes off the teeth that grazed her face. The woman’s fear giving way to acceptance that she was about to fulfill her destiny inside that mouth and throat. Those fangs were works of art, pure white, tapered and perfectly designed to rend women into meat, She inhaled the hot breath as she leaned her face against the teeth, feeling the needle-points press down, eager to explore take everything she had.
The leopard pushed the woman’s head down and to one side till the back of her neck was exposed. The neck was lovely, exquisitely molded, slender and terribly vulnerable, trembling as the woman braced for the first bite.
It came with expert precision. Today’s felines are consummate hunters of human females and know how to deliver bites that immobilize their meals without unduly damaging them. Living trembling flesh is always made for the finest feeding, the pump of blood in your mouth, the feel of shorn flesh writhing under your teeth, the quiver of still-living muscle sliding down your throat.
The leopard bit into her spine with surgical skill, it’s fang-tips closing between the vertebrae and compressing her spinal cord. The woman gave a gasp as she felt a sharp pinch, then nothing save the hot hungry breath on her face, and the feel of being carried aloft to where she could be fed upon in seclusion.
The leopard did indeed carry its golden prize up the tree trunk, it powerful neck muscles easily bearing the burden of a hundred or so pounds of soft primate. It’s teeth were still locked in her neck, and her arms and legs dangled limply as the two arrived atop a huge branch. There the cat dropped her, letting her sprawl on her back, the leopard straddling her helpless body.
The woman stared up at the beast she would be feeding, her eyes alert and seemingly unafraid of the coming banquet. Her legs hung down, her lightly-haired crotch exposed, her velvetine pussy-lips damp with surrender.
The cat nuzzled her crotch, rough tongue lapping the fascinating juices that leaked from that most wonderful of slits. The woman twitched just a bit. With her spine injured it was impossible to feel pain or pleasure but she knew what the cat was doing and her body responded nevertheless. Her vagina oozed and her clit rose to great the sandpapery tongue. Her body twitched, the flesh no longer obeying a central command but still instinctively respond to local stimuli.
The cat lapped her, harvesting her juices. It growled deeply, the taste of woman making its belly rumble with need. Its golden eyes blazed as it slid it fangs into her body just above her mons, the lower set spreading her ass cheeks wide and closing in on her vagina from below. The woman felt no pain, only numbed arousal. She dimly sensed a hot wetness flow through her womanhood, uncaring that it was her blood and not some other human’s fertile jism. Some ragged nervous connection flared and she raised her hips, offering her vagina to the maw, pushing as much of her doomed sex inside and nervously awaited the most passionate of bites.
The leopard bit down, pubis crunching, blood spurting and tendons popping as it pulled the muskily-spiced gammon free. The woman gave a husky groan, not one of pain but of some ungues sable pleasure as she felt the weight of her sexual organs leave her body. Her still working tongue licked her lips as if in passion and her rolled and glazed as if her brain was telling her she was locked in the deepest of orgasms. What is in the brain is real and the lack of actual feeling did not keep her from knowing she was being eaten, being taken into a more powerful being and that knowledge drove her into a fit of ecstasy that left mere physical sensations behind.
The hunter took a long lazy time to chew her loins, occasionally lapping up the hot spiced blood that burbled from the neatly-cut flesh. The meat was narcotic and it purred in satisfaction, its eyes locked on the body and face of its gently twitching companion. It finally swallowed, its throat bulging as pounds of fertile flesh traveled down to the waiting stomach.
The cat fed slowly, wanting to savor each tender bite, each sensation of live female flesh tearing and tumbling into its mouth where the juices could be chewed out of it, then feel it slide down its throat to join the growing warmth in its belly. It ate her belly, opening her abdomen like a scarlet flower, disdainfully flicking the sloppy mass of organs to fall to the forest floor below, and then snipping away the dripping belly steaks, the ruby meat garbed in a layer of rich buttery fat and silken skin. It ate till it reached her ribs and then travelled up, feeling the fading heavings of her chest and heart, harvesting her small but firm and hard-nippled breasts, leaving her ribs clean of flesh.
The feast would go on through the day, the cat dozing and then returning to its now-still possession. At some time it rolled her over, cleaning shoulders and back clean of flesh, mining her hips free of her pert ass cheeks, then slowly eating her legs. Eventually she would fall apart, bits of her falling into the litter to feed the scavengers, every ounce of her bringing sustenance to others. Only her head remained, trapped in a crook in the tree, matted hair dangling, her face still bearing a look of sublime bliss of a woman harvested at the peak of utter pleasure.
Daphne moved through the carnage, making sure a woman or two were always ahead of her. It was smart tactic and Daphne had to admit she admired all the view of those smooth and doomed rumps and legs pumping away in front of her.
The plan worked when two of the lovely does ran full tilt into a web, the silken threads so thin they were barely noticeable in the shifting light that leaked through the dense jungle canopy. The two, one a light-mocha- skinned African lass, the other a busty blonde squeaked when they crashed into the elastic barrier. The web rebounded, but the two does were stuck to the threads so they simply bounced about in the air, their flailings simply succeeding in getting their arms and legs firmly trapped.
Daphne looked up and saw the canopy was interlaced with white silk. Some were loose strands, some odd bones or scraps of hair adhering to the steel-strong threads. There were sacs, a dozen of them swinging gently amid the leaves. Most looked a bit shriveled, the girls inside having been slowly sucked dry. Other sacs were still plump, moving about, the woman inside still alive and awaiting the stab of a feeding tube come to drink their broth.
In the old days this scene would be considered hellish. But Daphne knew better. Today’s woman-hunting spiders injected a venom was contained a very powerful narcotic/aphrodisiac that was carried by the bloodstream to each and every cell, and concentrated in the pleasure centers of the brain. The trapped woman was reduced to a quivering mass of living pleasure, the sheer intensity of the orgasms breaking down the woman’s tissues till they self-melted into creamy cherry-hued slurry. The spider left its prey swinging in the wind for hours and days to self-tenderize, occasionally taking a sip to see if the living vintage had reached perfection. Then the spider would drink its fill, the woman howling in pleasure as her fluids flowed from her in a stream, her still-soft skin deflating as the body it once garbed vanished sip by sip.
One of the sacs was quivering as if the woman inside was thrashing about in maddened passion. A smooth rounded arm burst free and clawed towards the hidden crotch, seeking to slip between the threads and find the inflamed clitoris. The silk over the trapped woman’s crotch was soaked with cum and spread easily, allowing the fingers to sink inside and tweak the inflamed organs to even higher states of suicidal arousal.
The two snared women also saw the sacs and then saw two huge and surprisingly beautiful spiders descended on them by thread unrealing from their spinnerets. The great arachnids were green to blend in to the foliage, but iridescent so they glittered as they moved, chitin like polished opal, eyes were like endlessly-faceted jewels that sparkled as they locked on the smooth juice-saturated bodies of the trapped women.
Slender armored legs embraced the pair of lambs, who squealed as the spinnerets began to spray them with milky fluid. The hot goo molded to their bodies, mummifying hardened nipples and swollen labia, freezing the women’s faces in milky masks of apprehension mixed with fevered arousal. The fluid quickly hardened into threads that bound their limbs to their sides, legs slightly spread. The spiders were amazingly skilled, cocooning the pair in a minute, leaving gaps so the juice-bags could breath. The arachnids were careful to plug the oozing crotches though so no juice could leak out from those holes and be wasted. From now on, every drop of juice inside those women belonged to the spiders, to be tapped and sipped at leisure
Then came the bite. Mandibles jabbed into skin like hypodermic, glands pulsing as they pumped a load of thick narcotic deep into the feminine bodies. The wrapped girls began to wiggle and thrash, their squeaks turning into throaty moans as their pleasure-centers were turned against them, immobilizing them and starting them on the path to full dissolution. Carried into the treetops, the two wrapped women looked like snow-white flowers eagerly awaiting the spiders to return and drink their nectar.
Daphne grinned and carefully worked her way around the cocoon- draped trees, glad to have evaded another trap. Despite herself she was amazed at the myriad of predators hunting their soft prey, how each one was perfectly designed to hunt and eat women. For a second she listened to the soft moans of the women trapped into those cocoons, their worlds now a silken sac, waves of pleasure and the desperate need to be pierced and sucked dry. No more struggle, no more disappointments, nothing but euphoria. Daphne quashed the thought with a snarl. She was no meek meat-animal. She was a fighter and she intended to get the money and live for years after those foolish does had vanished without a trace.
A tiger padded by a slim redhead who hair was as orange as the cat who was going to eat her. The tiger was huge, a throwback to a past age, large enough that its jaws completely encircled her pleasantly-rounded waist, her creamy-white torso encaged in teeth. It moved silently, drooling over the girl in its mouth, carrying her to some quite glade where it would eat her alive.
Today’s tigers were masters of precision-eating and that redhead had hours of slow feeding ahead of her. The great cats instinctively knew how to harvest a woman’s flesh, snipping away slivers of skin and muscle, avoiding arteries, saving the torso and organs till the vey end. The feline’s saliva contained anti-coagulants, staunching bleeding, as well as narcotics that dulled any pain and transformed the sensations into one of leisurely pleasure. Daphne had seen videos of women surviving for amazing lengths of time under a tiger’s maw, taking pleasure in feeding such magnificent creatures.
The girl didn’t seem to mind being cat-food. The soon to be kitty-kibbles gal saw Daphne staring. She smiled brightly, gave a wink and a thumbs-up sign as she was carried away. Girls were so easy today, Daphne thought with a snicker. When her time came she intended to fight like a wild-woman, making the predator trying to get’s its teeth in her ass work for its food.
An hour later Daphne found herself in a sun-dappled glade. She stood catching her breathe, wary for any carnivores. She hadn’t seen a naked girl in a few minutes and from the diminishing sounds of struggle it was likely the herd had been seriously thinned. No doubt most of the girls were already digesting away, no longer competition. It seemed so peaceful but Daphne you could almost forget that for a woman this jungle was one great woman-meat rendering machine, filled with a thousand way to take and dissolve the flesh on Daphne’s bones.
The race was half-over, the unlucky or foolish culled leaving the tougher survivors to vie for the prize. Women became each other’s enemies as much as the predators that wanted to eat them. The blonde amazon grinned. She was survivor and she feared neither predator nor her fellow women…..
3 posts • Page 1 of 1
Great story, especially enjoyed the spiders. Really well fleshed out, would love to see more of them!
Love it. Hope there is more.
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