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...’