Rampage Roadblocks
By VivettaVenray
(WARNING: Contains vore
[soft, some hard kind-of], absorption, digestion, burps, spit,
snot/mucus, soul vore, body horror, and gore among other things.
This story contains one scene
with vomit. It’s described in some detail, as it can be an
interest to some. However, like the other ‘grosser’ content
matter within, it's not a big feature of the story compared to steps
and vore etc. I've still marked the chapter it shows up in though!
This story also technically
contains "post-cooking vore", but that's maybe stretching
the use of the term.)
(NOTE: I had wanted to
write a sort of wacky take on a rampage story for a bit of time.
Though I was excited to write this story, I must note that it may be
quite sillier than most of my other stories.
If any jokes/humor come across as
offensive, which I hope they don't, it is not from intent, but
instead likely incompetence on my part. Similarly, the only specific
size-writer I intended to make fun of with this story is myself.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy the...)
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Chapter
1: Story
A young woman had her hands
folded neatly over her waist. Her fingers nervously fidgeted against
one another as she stood. Her gaze kept drifting towards the minute
hand on that clock above the secretary’s desk. Then, her eyes would
drift back to a brown-wood office door with an even grater pang of
anxiety, then to the sides at nothing in particular, then back again
towards the clock.
The door opened: not the office
door, but the nearby one for the woman’s restroom. The secretary
came out of it, and the other woman noticed a strand of clean toilet
paper stuck to the secretary’s footwear.
‘Wow, such confidence!’, she
thought at the sight.
‘I wish I felt that confident
right now.’ ‘But I don’t, I feel nervous.‘, she also thought.
The secretary in turn noticed the
employee waiting, as well as said employee’s very obvious nerves.
As she returned to her desk, she decided to try and calm the other
office worker down with a bit of chit-chat. As a woman herself, she
knew there was nothing another woman liked more than having her
appearance meticulously described.
“Hey!”, she said before
continuing.
“I like your black closed-toe
heels, which aren’t too long at the heel part, but not so short
there that they aren’t heels.”
“Oh, wow, thank you so much!”,
said the employee.
“Yeah, and I also platonically
love your outfit overall too. Your black pencil skirt that comes down
to just about your knees is a stylish yet conservative choice for
office wear. Your long sleeved, white blouse also provides that
desired level of professionalism while still looking comfortable
thanks to its relatively thin and soft fabric.”
“Oh, jeez. Thank you-”
"I like your reasonably
short unpainted fingernails too. I can't see your toes, since those
heels are closed-toe as is expected in an office setting. Still, I
bet those are also unpainted and short, but not so short that it's an
issue, just like with the fingernails."
“Thank you again, you are
correct on that-”
“I also commend your choice to
go without any jewelry, as it helps bring focus to your
shoulder-length jet-black hair, as well as your almond brown eyes.
This outfit is fitting for someone in their early 20s, which you
clearly are. Definitely a great appearance, I really do love it:
platonically of course.”
“Of course.”, said the
employee.
Her spirits definitely felt a bit
uplifted. She spoke next, directed to the secretary.
“I also love, platonically,
your appearance, which is basically the same as mine aside from your
glasses, some facial differences not worth mentioning, and that your
own black hair is done in a bun.”
“Thanks!”, said the
secretary.
At that moment, the minute hand on the clock
above the desk hit 12. The hour hand was also perfectly centered with
the symbol “10”, even though it was basically there already.
At about the same time, the tiny
wooden doors above the clock-face opened up, and a small little
wooden bird popped alongside a loud.
“Koo
Koo”
The secretary’s voice was heard
soon after, snapping the other employee out of her trepidation-laden
glance at the big wooden clock.
“Oh, and nice rack by the
way.”, the secretary had said.
“Wha-”, said the other
employee.
The desk phone rang and the
secretary raised a finger as if to say ‘one moment’
A loud bellowing voice roared out
from the room behind that brown door to the desk’s right: and thus
the non-secretary employee’s left.
“Where the heck is Kyo?!? Send
her in here now!!!”
The bespectacled employee moved
the phone from her ear and spoke.
“Mister Shigoto will see you
know, Miss Dai.”
Kyo did an audible gulp as she
tried in vain to swallow her nerves. Sadly, those nerves were not in
her mouth. Nevertheless, she opened the door and walked into her
boss’s office.
She thought to herself, ‘I hope
I don’t get...’