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That’s how fast it is. No foreplay, no lingering, no flash-of-life before the eyes. Just a tilt of the chin, a twitch of the throat, and you’re gone.

Vore. In all my wasted wanderings, in all my wide-eyed nights, through all my brightest nightmares and darkest dreams, the word floats before me like an apparition. The sudden snatch. The parted lips. The fatal swallow, and then…

Let me tell you of fear. Let me tell you of dread.

You know my story; it is like many others. A story of a man and a woman, separated by nothing than a freakish, almost comical difference in size. The woman? Vanessa Moon, of the New Hampshire Moon family. A woman of matchless beauty and stunning wit and intelligence. A creature of foreign appetites and sinister affections. A woman who I once called my girlfriend.

And the man?                            

Alas. I confess, I cannot discern my own… Hm. Unfortunately, my mental state remains inscrutable, even to me. Then my name—Joshua—must suffice.

I know what you’re thinking. I know why you’re here. Almost like I can see you. You’ve got one hand on the scroll wheel and the other in your pants, and you’re wondering, When’s he gonna get to the good shit? Huh?

Maybe you haven’t realized this yet, but this ain’t that kind of story. This really happened to me. This is the Real Deal. So if you want to get your jollies stroking your poke over my misery, I can’t stop you. So let’s get this out of the way:

Yes. I, Joshua Benjamin, on the eve of April 15, 2029, was swallowed whole and alive by a giantess measuring 300 feet in height. It was the single most harrowing and terrifying moment of my life—I defy you, Mr. Hand-In-His-Pants, to tell me I should not have been scared.

I don’t mean to come off as hostile. But the fact is, you could have stopped it. You, and everybody else on the forums. You saw it coming. You knew what she was, and what she was capable of. But you, Mr. Hand, you cheered her on. You pointed me out, offered me up. You thought it was a game. And I paid the price for your ignorance

So go on. Read my story. Shiver at every saliva-soaked, hunger pang-wreaking word.

But don’t say I didn’t warn you.  




That’s how fast it was. No time to think, no time to reconsider. Just a tilt of my chin, a small, squirming weight sliding into my throat, and he was gone.

Vore. In all my lusty nights, in all my wakeful wanderings, through all my yearnings and wantings and needings, that word taunted me like a broke promise. The pursuit of my prey. That taste on my tongue. The sweet swallow, but then…

Let me tell you of release. Let me tell you of remorse.

You’ll hear my story—and his. There are none quite like it. A story of a woman and a man, separated by nothing more than an unhappy exchange of scale. The man was my boyfriend… Joshua. I won’t say his last name, but I want you to know he was the sweetest, sexiest little morsel a girl could ever dream of gulping down whole. And the woman?

You know who I am. And if you don’t, you will. That’s probably for the best.

I know what you’re thinking. I know what you want to hear. Almost like I can hear your whirring, mouse-wheel thoughts. Going round and round. You’ve got one hand on your cell phone and the other hand just poised over the “report” button, and you’re thinking… Just give me a reason, big gal. Just give me a reason.

Well, maybe you haven’t caught on yet, but I’m not the monster you all want to make me out to be. This isn’t a fairy tale with a hero and a villain. Me and Joshua are real people with real problems. We’ve got moving parts. We’re complex. We’re difficult. So let’s get the simple stuff out of the way:

Yes. I, Vanessa Moon, of the New Hampshire Moon family, swallowed my ex-boyfriend whole and alive last April. No, he didn’t want me to—at the time. And no, I shouldn’t have done it—in that moment. But I challenge you, Ms. Web Warrior, to tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.

In fact. In-fucking-fact. You don’t get to judge me. You don’t get to say anything, Miss Web. Because you wanted me to do it. You could have stopped me. But you didn’t. You cheered for me. You knew what I was, and what I wanted to do, and you wanted to see it happened. You offered him up on a silver platter and you begged me to gulp him down.

He paid the price for your selfishness. And I thank you—and I hold each of you responsible. 


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