It was the worst day of the year. Hal couldn’t even sleep last night because of the anticipation. Every leaf rustling, or branch snapping made his entire body flinch in fear. Dark circles framed his strained eyes. When the morning sun finally peeked through the cracks of his hut, he knew he had to move. With a groan he sat up on his bed made out of a single feather. He was quite proud of his little hut. He had used mud and the sturdiest twigs he could find to erect the walls, with a large leaf draped over the top to protect him from dew drops. But such meager defenses couldn’t protect him today.

Hal steeled himself and grabbed his spear from his bedside. The sharpened twig had gotten him out of plenty of close calls before. Hopefully it could keep the streak going.

His people were often at the bottom of the food chain. They had fierce competition with most other insects for vegetation to feed on. Large creatures like frogs and birds were apex predators. It was a struggle, but eventually his people had found balance. They stuck together in villages scattered across the jungle, and they were often able to hide or outsmart even the most cunning predators. All except one. No one knew when it started happening. But they caught on fairly quickly. Every year the monsters would come and hunt them down. Age, status, health, none of it mattered to them at all. There was no official name for them. The villagers just called them, Hunters. 

As he stepped out, the village was already in a frenzy. People pushed and shoved past each other for whatever reason. Either for last minute supplies, weapons, or even just another buddy to escape with. Not that there was any use running far. Hal was hoping to barter for a sling of some kind. A ranged weapon could work wonders.

“Hal come here”

He turned to see a village elder beckoning him. The elder looked as if he hadn’t slept either. There was a strange comradery as he realized he wasn't the only one tossing and turning.

“What do you need, sir?” Hal asked as he approached. 

“Offerings” 

There was a sudden force against his back and he collapsed on the ground. He attempted to get up but several strong hands pinned him down as he flailed. Several other villagers had jumped him. Dirt from the forest floor was still in his mouth when they tied him and several others around the base of a fallen branch. Thick bands of woven grass kept them all firmly in place with their arms at their sides. Hal and the rest cried out for someone to save them to no avail. He saw glimpses of his fellow villagers cowering in their huts or hiding under stones, trying to avoid his gaze.

“Why are you doing this!” Hal cried. A group of free villagers erected the branch with the offerings tied to it and pushed it as far into the mud as they could. Once it was up they scattered, leaving a very obvious pole pointed to the skies for free pickings. “Please don’t do this!”

*THUMP*

A chill went down his spine. They were coming. It started out distant and muffled. One could sometimes mistake it for oncoming thunder. Anyone who may have answered him was long gone by this point. Even the village elder had found a spot to hide away from Hal and the offerings. Hal wiggled his body from side to side but the sharp edges of the grass were starting to cut into his skin. He heard once that the Hunters could smell blood. He prayed it wasn’t true. 

Pebbles at his feet began vibrating rhythmically, and soon enough they were hopping with each approaching thump. The scattered huts rattled and the reverberations traveled up Hal’s legs. The sheer volume of their footsteps was debilitating. He couldn’t even see them yet. They were only walking. That simple act was enough to humiliate their entire village. This is what being on the bottom of the food chain truly meant. Just when he thought the thundering cacophony couldn't get any more intense he saw them.

An incomprehensibly large being emerged from the brush. A Hunter. He craned his neck up and had to squint. She was stunning. Her black hair was long and past her shoulders. She was adorned in a modest amount of clothing. Seemingly made from the skin of beasts. He recognized the skin of a rabbit. A simple loincloth between her rounded thighs covered her privates. Like warriors of his own village, she had colorful markings painted on her face. It made a beautifully striking contrast on her bronze skin. He was once again reminded of the worst part. Hunters looked just like the people of his village. If not for their staggering height, they could’ve communicated. In another life, maybe even coexisted. 

Those wondrous dreams were erased from his mind as she stepped towards them. Her barefoot blocked out the sun. Several of the offerings screamed. The sole was thick, etched in dirt, and in some spots had a dark red stain. The foot touched down an inch away from Hal. Just the big toe was taller than himself. Face to face with it he could count the lines on her monstrous digit. 

She crouched down and spoke in a language he didn’t understand. The sound was so loud he felt his brain jostle around his head. And with one hand, she pulled the branch from the ground. A wave of vertigo hit Hal and the offerings as they were hoisted up in the air. Hal's gaze traveled from her powerful thighs, exposed stomach, and looming breasts before becoming face to face with her. And she was smiling.

Several offerings cried out to be saved or let go. Hal was too enamored. Despite everything from his imminent demise to the fear in his bones. She was beautiful. He could see his petrified face in the reflection of the Hunter’s pearly white teeth. 

He felt the tightness around his chest loosen. She was letting them go? With one swift motion her nail tore through the grass bindings. The newly freed offerings plummeted to the ground. Hal along with the rest hit the mud hard, but not too hard. The one thing their stature was good for was minimizing fall damage. As soon as they could they booked it in different directions. Hal took off too, though he stole several glances behind him.

The Hunter thundered something that even he could recognize as laughter. Suddenly her hand reached forward. The familiar shadow fell over Hal. He picked up the pace as fast as he could. His little legs burned as he ran faster than he ever had in his life. But it wasn't nearly enough. He slammed into a wall of flesh and was still dazed when the boalike fingers curled around him. Was she not letting them escape after all? In a swift motion he was rushed up to those lips again. The cavern opened and revealed itself to him. A wave of heat hit his body. For some reason his brain focused on a single strand of saliva that dropped from the tip of her canine. It was all he could register before her monstrous tongue emerged and pressed into him. The hot soaked muscle dragged bumpy tastebuds across his skin. Her saliva had forced itself into his mouth and nose making it hard to breathe. The tongue retreated back inside its cave, taking a new prisoner. Hal attempted to stand but kept slipping on the rippling tongue. The humid, dark embrace of the Hunter’s mouth made his movements sluggish even though his mind was frantic. Suddenly he felt his world shift. The opening to her throat has rotated itself almost directly under him. He scratched and clawed at the tongue to gain ground but couldn’t get much of a grasp. A powerful gulp ripped him from his attempt and pulled him down below.

Hal was occupied at the moment, but outside more Hunters were preying on his village. Another Hunter had picked up the discarded offering branch and used it as a skewer. She made a game of how many tinies she could stab through the middle before running out of room. Their gut wrenching screams did little to stop the wood from boring through their bodies. She brought the stick as far inside her mouth as she could and vacuum sealed her lips at the end. With a slow drawn out motion she pulled the stick free, effectively entrapping half a dozen tinies in her maw. The muffled screams from behind her lips made her mouth water. She tossed the bloodstained stick to the side and chewed her meal. 

Inside was pandemonium. Wails and feral screams echoed behind the plush lips of their captor. The tinies that were still conscious were practically drowning in a pool of their comrades' blood. Then the chewing began. Her dominant molars compressed people with hopes, dreams, and ambition into mush. Nothing but food to be digested. Most couldn’t even lift ethier arms to protect themselves before an oppressive tooth ground them to nothing. The hunter simply swallowed and went to find more.

On the other side of the village, a Hunter was finding success foraging for tinies. She was on her knees sifting through foliage. They liked to clump themselves together which was nice. If they had spread themselves thin it would’ve been too much of a pain to go after them. This way was much more satisfying. Once you found one, you found a whole meal. She brushed a vine out of the way and revealed a proper entree. It was almost half the village’s population. 

The foraging Hunter brought her face down and let her tongue hang out of her mouth. She could hear them screaming. But they had nowhere to go. They effectively trapped themselves by hiding against the base of a tree. The Hunter kept her tongue out and saliva built up at the tip. A moment later it crashed down on the tinies. The result was catastrophic. The viscous glob of spit ensnared a large portion of them. It slowed their movements and made it hard to see. Those that didn’t get hit were clawing over each other trying to find an escape route. None such existed. The foraging hunter then leaned down even further and began sucking in. The gale forces from her breath actually lifted a few off their feet and into her mouth. The Hunter giggled and played with them by pressing them to her cheeks. While she sucked on them, she reached down and scooped up as many as she could and dropped them in her deerskin pouch for later. 

The original Hunter with black hair came by and scolded her for wasting food. They both looked at the tinies squirming in her saliva and came to the same conclusion. No one was eating that. Unceremoniously, the struggling tinies were snuffed out under the crushing weight of the hunters’ feet.

Once everyone they could find had been swallowed or rounded up, the trio left. In their wake, the population had been cut down to a fraction. There were fewer survivors this year than the last by far. The elder hadn’t made it either. The remaining villagers found his mangled body downed in spit and crushed almost beyond belief. This was the first and last year they would try an offering. 

The original black haired Hunter thought about this year’s harvest as they returned home. The snacks had come up with an interesting strategy. But alas, the offering was insulting. Hunters lived for the thrill of the chase. It was tradition to go out and gather as many as they could. It was a ritual to show their devotion to the goddess. She wasn’t quite certain how it proved loyalty, but she didn’t really care. All that mattered was tasting more and more of the jungle’s delicious bounty.

Inside her, that very bounty was being digested. Hal had been squeezed down and down her throat. It was hot, sticky, and claustrophobic. Finally he was dropped into a freefall and landed with a splash. The liquid irritated his skin. The loincloth he wore was already beginning to be eaten away, much like himself. In the end, he would just become nutrients for the Hunter. Something to give her energy and power her to consume more and more of his people next year.

He knew it was almost over. But he found some solace, at least he wouldn’t have to endure another Vore Day.