Vore

Some time ago I read an article about kinky vore fantasies. I think I always consumed gore and vore medias, I’m not against it, but I’ve always thought about vore in gore contexts, in supernatural contexts. I’ve never thought about actually eating people that way. The article was about vore in a giantess-dom/small-sub fantasy with a trained kinky AI. Yes, it was weird. It made the author reflect on some aspects of vore though, that I never considered myself. I guess it got stuck in a corner in my brain.

This morning I was holding someone close to me and I thought about it.
Now it sounds weirder than it actually is, let me take a step back and explain.
Last night I was at an event. It’s not the first time I see this performance, yet every time I feel this longing for the art. I remember the first time I saw it I was shaken, deeply, and left soon after because I did not want to confront the artist yet. I needed the friend and the artist to be separate for a while more. I think the second time I saw it this two people were merged into one and I was unable to see the artist or the friend, I saw something different entirely that I didn’t understand. The third time was just perfect. I had found the balance. The different sides of one person I cared for. It was beautiful and freeing. The art was closer to me and was there to be shared. So last night was the fourth time. And the beauty of art hit me again. As hard as the last time, as hard as the first time. So this morning, when I was holding his body close to mine, flesh against flesh, his head on my chest, as he was resting, my mind was still full of his art. Music still sounding in my ears, pictures still flashing in my eyes. I thought I wanted it forever. Not just for me, for everyone. For the world. I wanted that art to be immortal. I wanted him to be immortal. I wanted him to die and never die. And I wanted him and his art to be as close to me as possible. And that is when the vore thought came in. If I could eat him could he live forever inside my flesh? Now, that is as irrational as can be: I am not immortal, for starters, so he’d die anyways. But still. I wanted to be a giantess, a goddess, I wanted to give him to the universe, and give the universe to him. It’s a feeling that went through me like a shiver, head to toes. As irrational as it was, it made sense. And it still does, to me. I think it’s the art. It has a cosmic feeling about it. The art came from him, from his body that was against mine, from his head that was across my chest. I felt part of it for a while, the music still ringing in my brain. And then I felt the exact opposite of that vore thought. I felt small, so so small compared to him. He was the cosmic entity, not me. He already owned the universe, and I was merely living in it. I am just lucky to be near such people, to be close to talent. I put myself in its way, because that is what I want, but still. Luck.

All of this is temporary. Art. Life. My relationships with people.
It scares me. I know it will end and I don’t want it to.
I do not want this easiness to ever end. I do not want to part ways with this beauty. I do not want this harmonic wave to take a different direction.
But I know it will, and I’ll have to accept it.
Maybe not today, though. Let me bask in the energy of this cosmic entity some more, and I’ll be grateful.

The Awakening
Digital Collage
March 19. 2025
by Artxman