The Kaiju Bat Feeds
#1 of Vore
A commission for Straw the bat on FA, who also drew the thumbnail art! I'm most active on FurAffinity, where my gallery contains 200+ stories: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/xsini/
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The Kaiju Bat Feeds
Ding-dong!
With a happy screech, Straw came sliding down the handrail of the staircase, then pranced to the door. A mailbat on the welcome mat outside handed him a clipboard. Straw scribbled his signature, then received a package, and gave a spry thanks. He locked the door, fetched a pair of scissors in the kitchen then began unboxing his prize.
This was no ordinary Amazon package. He'd read of this product on an outdated forum, but way back when he first Googled it to purchase it, he didn't find any meaningful results. It took him several months of inquiring in comment sections and rephrasing what he was looking for to narrow his search enough and find it under an updated name.
With a giddy flutter of the impish wings on his back, he tore open a seal of bubble wrap, then fished out a bottle labelled "KAIJUICE." Drink all in one gulp to avoid headaches and growing pains, read the label on the back. Lasts one hour. Drink responsibly. May cause permanent physical injuries and/or law enforcement action. Safety not guaranteed!
Discarding the box and its artificial guts, he twisted off the cap then swallowed. A glowing, glistening cataract of orange rolled and splashed down his blueberry-cyan internals. Peristalsis flexed the leather collar round his neck, from which came the audible burbling of carbonation. Clouds of the juice harpooned through the surface of his acids, the juice suffusing the pool and turning its gold acids a citrine shade.
Straw sighed with a smile. He expelled a lighthearted belch, causing plates and glasses to clink in the cabinets. Any moment now, he should grow into a big hulking monster ...
A chemical reaction warmed his belly. He jostled and groped its distended form expectantly. Then he plucked his trimmed middle claw into the navel and swished it inside thoughtfully. How long until he got huge?--could trample cars beneath his feet, roar like the menaces in the movies? He couldn't stand still. Even one of his bat ears?--like a long, round boat hull?--kept twitching.
He must have paced round the kitchen table a hundred times. Every lap, he felt more like a sucker. Felt ashamed for obsessing over what had likely been a scam. What a sham ... he thought, feeling like he'd struck a dam with a pick, expecting to find gold, until the flood crashed over him. Sighing his dejection, he took long strides out of the kitchen, flicked on the downstairs bathroom light.
Trapezoidal glasses balanced on the base of a short snout and preceded a horn-like, leaf-shaped nose. A wave of bleach-blond hair surfed down to his neck. A bleach-blonde collar of bat-fluff puffed from the "V" of his Godzilla shirt--which was comfortably slack, like his slacks and armbands. Given how much he'd spent on the KAIJUICE expecting to shred his clothing, you could say uncomfortably slack.
He scowled at the mirror ... and then the bathroom flashed black. He slammed the front door shut, then with hands in his pockets and head bowed stamped his way to the corner store. He was browsing for an energy drink?--and feeling even more glum, the longer he looked at Monster Energy cans--when a strange vaporous pop swelled his belly. He grunted lecherously, reached a hand under his shirt. His stomach ballooned and navel turned flushed, the latter dilating into a thick donut-hole. Then, the expansion ended and his gut deflated; and something was absorbed by his body.
A kick of sugary sublime warmth jolted his limbs. He blushed and found himself squeezing the bulge in his slacks, hot caged arousal and narcotic achievement clouting his chest and loins. More intense than a crustacean's pinch became his unshakable need to ... to burst huge! Explode with size! Grow into a GIANT MONSTER GIGABAT!!
"Ghhhr--ghraaah~!" Knocking snacks from the steel hangers and shelves, Straw surged bigger, grew from 6' tall to 7' tall, his shirt becoming petite and tight, his slacks riding up his calves, clutching with immaturity around his lithe muscles. "GRRRAACK~!" The bat's chest and limbs sundered his shirt and slacks. His chest rose over the fridges. A row of merchandise tumbled from an erotic stumble. "REEAAAAAHH~!!"
A handful of customers and cashiers spilled from the front doors, screaming as the bodega trembled, the sight of bat legs enlarging exponentially visible from the windows. Straw felt such pleasurable searing, smothering feelings of reward--of evolution--pulsing through his being, he barely felt a pinch of pain as his head collided with roofing and light fixtures and climbed through internal workings.
Bricks and glass burst around the giga-bat. He took his first step out of the crumbling corner store and the collapsing urban apartments of the storeys above, his sole squashing a guardrail. Debris set off car alarms. Scatterings of people clogged the intersection with both cars and sound pollution comprised of screams, honks and vehicles rear-ending one another. Growing faster, already three storeys tall, Straw brandished a mean grin, becoming more and more drunk off power as he saw how his shadow stretched; how the civilians seemed to shrink beneath his towering form.
Not knowing yet where he was going, he crossed diagonally the intersection with just a couple of steps, growing so quickly, the crater in the tarmac caused by the second step appeared deeper: The first footprint only measured three-fourths the size. Straw wheeled around and huffed with glistening eyes, and admired the destruction he'd already caused, vertigo clashing with overstimulation in a dreamy rush of dopamine. His underwear--one of the few articles of clothing that hadn't torn to bits; that had survived his evolution this far, along with his wristbands and collar--jutted damply with the bulge of his tapered erection. He was becoming so gigantic ... These people, these cars--they were his playthings.
And he wasn't even done growing. Below, the world seemed to totter from his booming footsteps, the feet growing big enough to crush vehicles like boxes packed with action figures--and they did; though Straw had been instinctively being careful not to step on cars, he heard the crunch and felt the hot belch of smoke as an engine met his sole. Deepening groans of dilating musculature and jerking monster bones resounded through both intersecting thoroughfares. He grew, grew ... grew until even the high eight- and nine-storey buildings became naught but outgrown chinrests. Until the casual swishes of his short, thin tail smashed great spiderweb cracks into facades of brick and concrete, and launched several cars, and toppled a supermarket food truck.
As monstrous as the original Godzilla, ready to show the city whose sandbox it was, Straw loosed a sonic screech. Bulldozing chunks off buildings with his calves, he scuttled deeper into the city, and approached an outdoor mall. Pedestrians dropped beverages and shopping bags and fled. An hour ago, the foods and drinks the mall-goers purchased would have filled him up. Now? Swallowing an entire mall-goer wouldn't even fill him up. How much could he eat?
Chills spread over people sitting along the curve of a fountain in the center of an ultramodern plaza. Their complexions turned ashen. They sprung into a full-fledged dash, then felt from behind a momentous boom. One of them glanced back and saw that the fountain had become a foot-shaped pool, water spurting erratically from its center, leaking from off-branching cracks in the ground. Straw knelt and snatched them up, along with a handful of others who'd attempted to escape. A half-dozen bipeds he could hear tinily screaming and wriggling in his balled hand. Each of them only looked about two-and-a-half inches tall to him, about the length of his claws, but unworthy of being considered dolls.
Straw yawned his maw, and because of the size differences, the light exhale blasted the captives with furnace-like heat and stormy force. The tangy, humid potion-breath drenched their fur, scales, feathers, etcetera. Some of them had builds more muscular or pudgy than his but had to accept that they were, nevertheless, insects to him. Despite their physical strength and appetites, his sheer immensity made him far more powerful and hungry. When he opened his fist, even the largest of them dropped like a chicken tender into his awaiting maw.
Grunting in pleasure, he shut his chops and whisked his tongue, bunching them into his left cheek, steeping them in slather, suckling the flavor out of them until their clothing suggested they'd all dove into the ocean. Another hand seized another half-dozen. He stuffed his cheeks with them, blushing and rolling his eyes with a look of smug intoxication. He pushed his claw tips into his bulging spheroid cheeks, feeling the small horde grasp and kick pleadingly at his fingers as they gyred fearfully on the currents of his sloshing slather. Had he just swallowed a portion of a regular entree, he would have seemed rude for having stuffed his cheeks so full. But rude is a term for those we have the power to reprimand. The batch of prey didn't even have the strength to stop his jaws--which flexed in the rhythm of mastication as he tasted them--even if every one of them managed to stand without slipping and hold the roof of his mouth up at once.
With each movement of his jaws, Straw built up more predatory confidence. He could swallow them all at once; he believed he could! He tilted his head back and stuck his tongue out, warbling in pleasure as the change of gravity amplified the screams and protests, little vibrational voices beating like chintzy sticks against the drums that were his cheeks. He stood and rolled his fingertips over his neck right under the chin, kneading into his throat as if preparing. And then came a hefty GULP, and the bulges of his cheeks merged into one fat, bumbling tangle of limbs. His grunts became moans, his claws groping over the mass being shoveled down by one stubborn peristaltic wave. Units of the mass trickled through the jam of esophageal rings. Quickly the main bulk scuttered below his knuckles to catch up. Leather whined as the base of his neck bloated and reddened; the buckle on his collar trembled the way the buckle of a belt above a bloated paunch would.
GLLRRRRRGH!
Moaning a chirpy sigh, Straw felt his collar ricochet to normal size. It bounced on his jiggling neck after the bulge squeezed past. He heard his belly plash on the inside for the first time. His stomach swelled, bulged like a great, half-full wineskin; bulged like each of his prey had been worth only a hundred or so calories to him. His shallow navel subtly stretched from its regular slit-like shape into more of a button shape as the warmth of his first meal as a kaiju perfused his midriff. Gurgly liquids and gases shuffled under his belly button, the pleasure pushing his cock more out of its curled form into an achier erection. Huffing, imagining how detrimental his enzymes were to the minuscule furs, he rubbed down from his ribs to the center of his belly, squishing and inciting glorps and gurps, feeling his hard-on leak through his boxers against his swollen tum.
He poked one claw into his burbling navel, and blushed, feeling how his bulge pushed out against the belly button, how the civilians sloshed around his finger, the rim of the navel muffledly squelching and smacking against his claw. His underwear heralded a full-fledged horn. He became this hard around the same time he realized, a dozen lives were being ended by his tummy, which was usually an innocently lithe washboard abdomen. Now, it was a rancid, bubbly cavern wherein digestion slowly elapsed. And yet he had barely filled it or its metabolic pool. Nothing seemed too big for him to eat anymore. Anything was susceptible to becoming his next snack, the next sacrifice to energizing and being permanently absorbed into him.
Time for him to take full advantage of his newfound power ...
"HUWWWROORP!"
That gastric blast of heat tailed people fleeing to their cars parked at meters on crowded streets, the thunderous titan's belch shattering windows and rattling vehicle frames. Breathing more quickly, galvanized by the enthralling music coming from his tummy, Straw stamped toward a compact street, teasing his future victims with the groans of a paunch not fully satisfied, the rumbly sounds churning under the beat of his tile-crushing paws. He hummed forebodingly as a couple slammed the doors of a Corolla shut, then tried to join the traffic jam of evacuees. He knelt, dug his claws into the metal. The resulting screams resounded like car alarms. For the passengers, gravity seemed to lurch out of alignment to the sudden screeching and crunching of metal. Large claws smelling of bat pierced through the roofing, a thumb-claw spearing through the vinyl back seats, the frame compressing into a can shape. The chaotic streets were framed from the views of a roller coaster car that had jumped off its tracks. Craned several storeys above earth, that car now gravitated toward a maw that was about as wide as the vehicle, now that it had been compacted; and hot breath--of a scent tinged with tang and people-scent and clothing--fogged the glass of the windows, which had somehow endured his crushing of the car.
No larger than a remote control car, the vehicle's ownership was exchanged; and by that, I don't mean anything that has stock in paperwork; I mean it passed from his fist into the drooling, working chasm that was his gullet. The bat's mighty throat muscles molested and drenched the Corolla, seeming to drive itself toward a fate neither of the passengers could escape. They were forced to hear the giant gulp and whinny with strain and arousal, the pred struggling eagerly to clear his throat, the metallic package dilating his collar to a circumference which should have spelled destruction for the neckwear. Instead, it snapped back into place, permitting the vehicle a semi freefall for the last few moments of its spelunk, before pe-lunk!
"Mn-nnnmf ..."
Farther his tummy distended, and puffed up behind his navel. The belly button opened into a great, flushed tire of fluffy flesh, tickled by the resonant flutters of metallic grumbles and groans of metal being forged down: A little more than an hour from now, it would be no more than superheated semiliquid. The bat unleashed a deep, grungy belch of car exhaust fumes, a tire rolling into an intersection. He proceeded to chow down on a few other choice cars of the stampede.
Each vehicle, he teased before devouring. He rubbed one against the leaky bulge of his jockstrap, smearing pre cum all over the windshield, bathing the exterior in his musk, which seeped inside to let the passengers know just who they belonged to before. Another, he ran along his thigh and the swelling bulges of his belly like a toy car, giving the passengers a tour of his glorious kaiju frame, one last pretty sight to precede them being absorbed by his hyper efficient stomach.
One car turned to four, four to seven. He lost count. Keeping track is hard when your tum just keeps crushing cars down into little wads of garbage with its mucous muscular walls. Though, it's likely not many of you can relate.
On his trip of handpicking cars out of the jam, he saw in his periphery the silhouettes of roller coasters and tall themed rides of a coastal amusement park. A perfect place to show off his mega form and have fun terrorizing larger crowds of people, he thought with a dark chuckle. Many people in the traffic thought his departure a miracle. Great pebbles of asphalt trickled from his paws on his way towards the gates of the park several blocks away.
The awning of a ticket booth was stomped into a crater. Straw began manifesting his idea of fun in the theme park ...
Around each of three large roller coasters, he'd release a roar; and he'd love the reactions of the hundreds lined up for a ride; they would push and shove each other, and climb barriers to escape. His gigantic paws reached out, splintering the walkways and guardrails before he swallowed pawfuls of food, adding wood and sprinkling more iron onto his diet of guests.
Guests on a wooden roller coaster threw their hands up and screamed, not because the ride shot them down a steep hill of tracks, but because that hill drove straight into Straw's track-chomping maw. Presently the guests plunged into a darkness more horrifying than that of any spooky Halloween attraction, feeding him four people per car with a length of rushing cars, like a great kebab of meat and metal.
Having sealed the fate of hundreds more, Straw crooned, rubbing over his squiggly stomach which had grown pregnantly large and round, the gurgles now carried by the seabreezes throughout the park entire, creating an eerie, ghostly ambience with an iron resonance from its passage through the gridwork of the attractions and food stands. An ice cream salesman thrust a rolling steel shutter over the window of his stand, then curled up in the interior under the countertop and sobbed as he heard the food stand creak and tilt, for the bat snapped up the giant ice cream cone prop atop the roof, gulping down the artificial swirl of vanilla before he pulled off the cone itself with another idea in mind.
Straw had seen just how powerful his breath was going out. How about going in? He stepped over to the ferris wheel, punched a hole in the bottom of the cone prop, put his mouth to it as if it were a loudspeaker. He inhaled through the cone, his breath tugging one of the cars of the ferris wheel toward his maw until the supports snapped, the metal encasement clinking its way into the cone and down his gullet. Gulp ... gulp! The ferris wheel hadn't finished its current ride; people were trapped in the cars as the bat's inhales wrenched them into that cone of death one by one.
A belch gusted over abandoned carnival games, shattering glass bottles that had been stacked up, blowing stuffed animals along a boarded boulevard. Straw had finished plucking off the cars of the attraction like they were ripe fruit hanging from the branches of a tree. He turned around and made for a great arena a few miles away.
A basketball game was going on. The arena stood only two-thirds of his height, so he had to start chomping into it. That was all crust; it took him a few chomps to reach the bleachers and start snarfing up mouthfuls of people. Even though he only had enough room in his belly to engorge on a few of the higher sections of seats, the whole game was canceled when thousands of people fled out of the various gates of the circular structure, making for the parking lots and various trolleys that escorted people from one parking lot to another.
Straw scooped up one trolley and gulped it down. He strode out of the stadium lot and casually chased after a bus that had closed its doors and was making shakily into the traffic. Straw pulled the band of his underwear back, then let it snap against his erect length. He then snatched up the bus and thrust his tapered tip through the back. Iron shattered easily against his rock-hard erection, which he used to pummel the bus, pumping his hips. The bus became a great metal condom. His shaft destroyed numerous rows of seats, smearing a sludge-thick pre on fabric and metal and glass. Musk steamed the windows. Overwhelmed, he blew into the bus. Founts of seed jetted from shattered windows. Fondues of seed gushed over the creaking frame, drowning the conductor and every passenger aboard before externally metabolizing them with their sheer enzymatic heat.
The cream-filled bus became Straw's next snack. GRUORP ... GULLK ... GLUK! His collar seemed to masticate the bus externally, crunching the rectangular object with peristaltic flexes. Flakes of steel and bony remnants trickled out of the brick-of-transit into his bloated midriff, followed by the vehicle.
While Straw appeared winded with glee, news anchors broadcast news of the giant kaiju all across the country. The city was in turmoil, being evacuated. Traffic was abominable.
After eating a news helicopter, residents from several neighborhoods, and chunks from fast food restaurants and corporation skyscrapers, Straw reverted to normal. He shrank back into a seemingly innocent bat--innocent, save for that incriminating tummy. He hummed and trotted back home. Along the way, people squealed and ran away from him, recognizing the supervillain of sorts despite his shoddy disguise. His ear flickered knowingly, but he didn't look their way; he simply stroked his corrosive paunch and gave a possessive smile.
One of Straw's neighbors--a collie of russet gold and white--gaped with the hose in his paw watering his bare foot. He watched Straw--who was on the other side of the low hedges--trudge with nothing but underwear on to his front door, the bat fondling a stomach that made the collie blink. Never before had he seen a belly so firm and rotund. He swore to himself that he saw miniature handprints and muzzles pressing pleadingly against the bat's kneading hands--but he reckoned there was far too much sand in his eyes still. He had slept in--had neither seen the news nor had been awakened by the citywide earthquakes.
Straw locked the door on his way in, then sighed. After an hour or so of being visible to everyone in town, being isolated in the privacy and soundness of home was welcome. Not only could he digest everyone in peace; he wouldn't have to worry about being a giant target for military tanks during his post-meal laze. (Not that he did. He would say he'd been watching too many movies--but if becoming a kaiju was possible, who was to say that secret government weapons made for killing monsters was unrealistic?) The swampy burbles and croaks of his globular midriff played to fill the arena that was his home. The distorted ululations and distant roars sounded so loud, the resonance could be heard upstairs in his vacant bedroom. Though, it wouldn't be vacant for much longer.
Belly swinging and sloshing powerfully from a pivot, Straw locked his door. Not that anyone would be bothering him. No amount of doorbell ringing would get him out of bed once he lay beneath his heavy churning midriff and began his self-pampering ritual. Since he shrank back to the size of a person, the apex of his belly had already receded a couple of centimeters, so he hurriedly set up. Closed the shutters. Lit a few candles on the headboard drawers--bourbon and vanilla fragrance. He laid back against a little fortification of pillows, and whined happily. The room temperature was just right, even a tad bit warm because of the sheer heat emanating from his stomach. The squishy, softening globe jerked in joystick fashion atop him, wiggling and wobbling, loosing noises that sounded like monsters sucking on straws and stone doors being slid away from secret passages. Beneath the internal slurps, hiccups and eructions--the low thunders that caused his fluffy belly's taut surface to yawn in expansion, contract fretfully and flail liquidly--he could hear thousands of voices crying out to him. Their owners were at his mercy, most of them willing to do anything to avoid being churned into oblivion.
No, they wouldn't even get to become his fat. Straw's metabolism kept him from garnering so much as a couple of love handles, even after a big holiday meal. Everyone would be thoroughly obliterated by the filmy lake of brewing gold.
They would watch cars, helicopters and architectural chunks crumble and dissolve in the hellish world encased by his slimy, contracting walls. They would feel the rancor his enzymes would deal with a demeaning nonchalance. Even the most tenacious of them would soon admit to themselves: Here, there was no way for them to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. Clustered against the other species, each of them could hardly crawl themselves up to a place between another pair of people. He had packed them away with objectifying efficiency and would soon be digesting any boots whose straps the fanatically tenacious intended to pull themselves up with.
Muffled, cavernous groans meshed with subterranean burbles, growls and utterances. The bedroom sounded alive, thrumming vividly with compact acoustics accustomed for his digestion. He chuffed with arousal and smacked his languidly grumbling dome; and the smacks instigated strings of low croaks, along with what sounded like flesh puckering and internal belches being stifled.
Blithely Straw pulled his tapered cock from the pocket of his underwear. He fapped, and grunted, feeling rattly squelches reverberate against his paw, his taut paunch sloshing and thrashing around his grip and superheating his buttery meals. His thumb and knuckles grinded against the collapsing jumble of city structures and crammed people. The ripples of the barriers of flesh caused waves of acids to batter things and civilians alike, accelerating the gunky breakdown. He moaned, encouraging the chthonic droning with a kneading hand. Even the sounds of tiny car alarms--which had been set off when cars clashed with flesh and metal--were drowned out by the hazardous lake of his relatively leviathan confines.
Fabric melted from arms, legs and chests. As his prey were rendered naked, their bodies squished together more, dribbling over each other, assimilating each other as they acquired a more putty-like composition.
What felt like a concert-length of time elapsed. Straw's navel had retreated from twelve inches ahead of its normal position to ten on the deflating dome. He dug a finger into his navel and jabbed repeatedly at the melting mulch within, delighting in the little vibrations from shrieks of despair and squeals of vehicles revving in futile efforts to escape somewhere. Subwoofers eaten from the stadium drowned in his acids, producing warped lofi booms that contributed to the diversity of the soundscape.
Slanted beams of light coming from the gaps in the shutters dimmed, the light assuming a less cyan/more eggnog shade. His belly deflated again--navel receded to seven inches ahead. A cavalcade of gastric creaks and howls crashed through the room, and vaporous pressure geysered through his throat. From his mouth was loosed a deep, slothful burp. A heated blast of air slung slather forth, the spit splattering on his belly. Seemingly, the blast had also carried a sticky number plate and several pairs of clothes: These had landed on his gut, which now deflated at a relatively exponential rate. Feeling that hot waft of fresh death roll over his hand and member, Straw twisted onto his side and stroked his hotter member faster, edging.
Suddenly, a wave of hot chyme crushed so many dozens of civilians and vehicles into a putrid paste, the rumbles drilling wetly behind his belly button. Straw hissed with finality and peaked, exploded over his belly with the longest climax and the thickest bat seed ever. He basted himself. His wonderful musk mingled with the pleasant incense of vanilla and bourbon and the wafts he'd belched up. After gushing for so long, he slowed his strokes. His orgasm tapered then ceased. He licked the jizz off of his soaked claws--tasting automobiles, felines, canines, reptiles and avians on his breath--then wiped off whatever was too excessive onto his tummy.
Incredibly spent, unable to have his day ruined, he churned away at what remained of the heap of his belly for a few hours. The tangerine light evaporated sleepily, the frame of the window becoming a dim molten orange, the room lit only by his candles, the wax almost entirely finished burning. During these hours his navel shrank from seven inches to four, from four to one; it kept shrinking until he sported his typical washboard abdomen. The last of the people he absorbed--naught but vapors--was unleashed from his mouth after the last glorps of his tummy with a gargantuan chainsaw belch that was heard even inside his neighbor's house.
"HRRRWWLLLEEEEEAAAAAALLLHHHP!"
Perhaps, if the military didn't know where he was already, they would after that noisy belch. Maybe, next time, he would eat them too. His eyes drifted to his phone on his nightstand, and he smirked, wondering how much more Kaijuice he should order up ...