Short Vore/Giant/Shrink Story Collection

Readers Digest Kids

I read it three times. Standing there at Barnes and Noble, staring at the periodical section, the word just popping out at me, I had to scratch my head. The dumbfounded response was so cartoony, but that’s what I did. God help me I was young, and foolish, and… suddenly very hungry. It just made no sense. Wouldn’t anyone who read it be a reader- simply by definition?

In retrospect I realize that it was not a cover article of a newspaper. It was not a command from the government, or a survey of numerous readers. It was merely a publication titled “Reader’s Digest Kids.” Funny how a simple mistake in punctuation or a sticker in the wrong spot on a magazine’s cover can lead to such travesty. For five youths it did at least... And who am I kidding, a handful more over the years. But don’t paint me as some kind of monster. Remember, I was young and inn- I almost said “Innocent”. Ha. Well I was young. I’m still young. I consider myself young at least. Maybe it wasn’t so long ago after all. Regardless it was far enough in the past that the publication is no longer called “Reader’s Digest Kids”. First they added “Edition” after the “Kids”, a stipulation of the lawsuit perhaps, not that this was any help to those youngsters or their friends and families. Then they added a colon between “Digest” and “Kids”. That was after the second incident I think. I don’t know. In those early days of being a giant I had so many lawsuits and blamed so many others (just to keep myself innocent in the eyes of the law) that I can’t keep them all straight. It wasn’t until later that I learned the art of never getting caught! Whatever the case, the magazine said “Readers Digest Kids” with no apostrophe, no colon, no “edition”, and no clarifications. I didn’t need to be told twice. I wasn’t looking for trouble, having ignored the command of the red-lettered title. I certainly didn’t want to be left out if so many others were digesting kids! If I have committed any crime it is that and that alone- being a follower of fads and wanting to stay ahead of the trends. The magazine said it, and news, or advice, or survey, or law… it didn’t matter! True, I could have thought they were referencing baby goats, but that’s besides the point.

But here was the problem: I had never been a fan of veal. (And I don’t mean the beef, although I have always avoided that as well. Those poor little calfs!!!) I found the prospect of eating anyone before they were in the prime of their life utterly unsporting, horrid, and in bad taste… or that’s what I originally thought. It was unsporting because they were too dumb to have any real fighting chance. After all, kidnappers, the lowest of the low, are able to abduct these guys! It would be like stealing candy from a- well I guess more like stealing a baby from- making a baby into candy…? They weren’t babies or anything though. It’s just a saying. It was horrid because they hadn’t even had the time to face the trials and tribulations of real life. And it was in bad taste because, let’s face it, the middle, end, and right after puberty is when guys are at their tastiest. I don’t know if it’s those juicy muscles, or the hormones, or the sudden growth which gives you so much more meat… sorry, I’m trying to stay focused. No more exposition. Whatever the case, despite my reservations I was willing to try. Hey, I just realized! They don’t even have an “Reader’s Digest: Kids Edition” anymore! I guess they finally learned their lesson and gave up!

What I thought would be the toughest part, ended up being the easiest. I had elected to find the morsels which appeared closest to their older counterparts. Searching the internet was like browsing a gold mine, not even for gold, but for a gold mine! It was all around! The inventions of instagram, steroids, and the ‘bro mentality’ was a vore-enthusiast’s wet dream! Everywhere guys were posting pictures of themselves, scantily clad, dripping with sweat, showing off their meaty bodies! It was like the entire internet was one giant menu for man meat! There were groups dedicated solely to those I was looking for! Teen boys with bodies of men ten years their senior littered my news feed. It took awhile to narrow my selection to the five I wanted to try, a shorter while to find them, an even shorter while to shrink, and no time at all to put them in my meal tank at the kitchen counter, barren of all former occupants for tonight’s dinner. Those who had been there were carefully put away elsewhere so as not to get jealous.

The best part about these tasty treats was their size. Yes, they were bulging with muscle, but they weren’t as long as my usual delicacies, a fact which proved favorable to all involved. I didn’t need to cut anyone, or chew, or bite. Preparation was much simpler than ever before, and I told them such. They still clung to each other, sobbing, pleading, screaming, but I think I calmed them with a few pets from my gigantic fingers and soothing words about their slow digestion in my roiling gut. I reminded them that they had obviously volunteered for this by increasing the progression of their bodies to such a degree and then posting those mouthwatering pictures for people to drool over. As they were too simple to understand I informed them they would not be tortured physically or sexually which somehow only increased their fear. Strange little creatures.

Wasting no more time I reached in and pulled out my first morsel. Jakub was pale and blonde with a constant bitchy face, perhaps accentuated by his prominent eyebrows and snub nose. His tiny ears and beady eyes made me think of a buff chipmunk. Jakob was lithe, with bulging biceps, an obvious six pack, and an hourglass figure that girls would be jealous of. His chest was less pronounced than one would expect but his ropey muscled legs were nothing to gawk at. I think it was his strange haircut which stood out to me most. The sides were shaved but the top was fluffy and quaffed to one side. He screamed and cried and begged, as did the others, but I quickly grew accustomed to the usual sound of my meals paid his squeaks no more mind, deciding instead to enjoy my meal. A glass of merlot was poured and a candle lit in my intimate dinner for one… er six. Sampling his smooth flesh first with my nose, then my finger, and then my tongue, I slowly traced his entire outline, tasting the salty muskiness I had grown to love, but something altogether new to my palate. There was a distinct sweetness and a hint of fruitiness I had never experienced with my older morsels. Smacking my lips and humming to myself, his whole body shaking from the cold air and the vibrations of my “mmm”s, I decided to make my first dish a soup. To keep him warm I stuffed his entire body into my mouth so suddenly my closed soft lips didn’t even need to stifle the scream. It never left his little lungs. Sucking and slurping on my meal, my tongue dancing over his mouth watering toned body, I heated the broth, cut the vegetables, and danced around to the agony of my other morsels who watched with wide, fearful, doe eyes. My stale, humid breath danced around Jakub’s body, enveloping him in it’s dankness, and pushing down into his every orifice as he sputtered for breath, battling the tongue that continued to batter him around like a bull to it’s rider. Every once in awhile I pushed him to the back of my throat for a quick view at his ultimate fate, letting the spit accumulate there before swallowing it down as a preview of his own destiny. At once his eyes were blinded by the sudden light and fresh air, only to be dropped into the steaming broth below. He instantly turned as red as a lobster and began treading water rather than have to sit on the bottom where the fire made it hottest. Bubbled exploded in his face until I set it to simmer and reached in for the next treat.

Carter was the bulkiest of the boys. Looking at the struggling young man between my thumb and forefinger my tongue lolled out against my command and saliva began leaking onto my shirt. Broad with tanned skin, sand-colored hair, veiny arms, and a chest and eight pack that was so contoured I could feel each ridge even with my gigantic padded fingers. Again I licked the taste off of his entire body before slowly sucking on both of his proportionally tiny by nonetheless meaty feet. My tongue tickled each sole and worked in between every perfect plump toe. Moving over to the counter I prepared for Carter’s dish. The work was slow at first, but that just gave me more time to taste Carter’s supple body and delicious flesh, my tongue snaking all over and under him. When I was ready I lay Carter down on the chopped meat concoction and began kneading him into it. He looked up fearfully, and completely helpless, probably for the first time in the stud’s life… and certain to be the last time. The tasty little Swedish meatball looked perfect. His head stuck out one end, his hands spread out on the sides, and those delectable feet twirled around below. Placing him on a tray I put it in the oven to get it golden brown, closing it behind him after an air kiss and wave goodbye,then set the timer. The heat was low enough to make him a fraction of a shade darker, but not enough to kill him.

Max was taken out next, leaving the last two lads hugging one another in the tank. Clearly the youngest of the group, Max had a button nose, olive skin, and a baby face. His tight lips were pursed between two chipmunk cheeks and his dirty blonde hair was completely buzzed on one side, leaving a permanent quaffed bowl cut on the other. That’s where I started the tasting. The soft locks cushioned my fleshy and spongy taste buds while the prickly buzzed side tickled me to no end. I cannot recommend this haircut enough to those who like textured meals! Look for them in schools, malls, parks, and anywhere that attracts edgey delinquents! He inadvertently flexed his arms in his discomfort, causing me to stop licking his head and suck both muscley arms into my mouth like wet noodles, sucking so hard I was about to slurp them clean off his shoulders. His fingers tried in vain to grip something, merely grazing the tip of my tongue. This little lad avoided a fate worse than all the others combined. Nowadays I have a special spit to roast my delectable boys. Both ends detach so that I can rope the middle up the butt, through the intestines, into the stomach, up the throat, and out the mouth, almost like the cameras used in endoscopies and colonoscopies, except those don’t go nearly as far obviously. Reattaching each side to the stick allows you to have a kebab without killing the little treat. It is unbelievably uncomfortable and the lad can barely breathe, plus the stomach acid slowly trickles into the other organs as the valves are forced open by the stick, but by the time they begin digesting themself they’re already being digested by me as well. Back then I only had a regular skewer which would impale the tasty delicacies from the butt up through the mouth, piercing everything in its path and killing them much quicker. Luckily for Max, it was still in the wash from an entire soccer team I. I had pierced all of their chests, lining them up, and then slowly cooked them over a fire as they bled out. I liked blood more back then… And I didn’t like sex stuff as much. Strange how your tastes change when you get older. Instead, I found a large meat thermometer, which Max was convinced was about to go into either his flesh or another orifice as he screamed bloody murder. He was trussed up with some parsley and attached to the thermometer, some pepper, mushroom, onion, tomato, and pineapple pierced above and below him. The fruit and vegetables were large enough so that when I put him on the grill, no matter which way I turned him, he wouldn’t be burned. I hate charred meat. Getting out my marinade and brush I coated the terrified lad until he was glistening with the sweet syrupy stuff, instead of just sweat, saliva, and fear. Putting the whole mess on the automatically rotating grill, I returned to the tank to choose the penultimate squirming mass.

Rostik, the second youngest was removed from the arms of Ryan, leaving the last little guy all alone. Despite his age, Rostik was the second biggest, with the manliest face. Fair skinned with an eight pack and chiseled chest that rivals Carter (makes sense since I found them working out together), Rostik’s brown hair, glistening areolas, and flexible meaty body made him an easy pick. After seeing his rippling back my tongue immediately starts there, lapping the salty sweetness again and again, slowly rubbing my wet spongy, powerful muscle up and down his arched back. He struggled so I use one finger to force both of his arms at his side, pushing him hard against my palm with my tongue. He was incapable of moving anything except his butt which he tries using to nudge my chin off of him to no avail. Again, this once powerful lad with the world at his large, meaty feet was no match for even my tongue or finger tip! The smell of him and the others was almost as hypnotically delicious as the taste! It was a sweaty young man smell with a hint of Axe Body spray and stale mustiness. Rostik was the easiest boy of the bunch to prepare. The jumbo shrimp having already been cooked I merely wrapped it around the struggling lad, placing them both atop a pile of zoodles. It was tight enough that he could struggle all he wanted and not budge an inch. Additionally, as an added precaution, the bottom of the shrimp covered his feet, making escape impossible. Ironic, after calling so many newbies at the gym “shrimps”, this swollen “do you even lift bro” young man, was now a quarter the size of one, and about to be eaten with it.

Ryan, the last studly body-fatless ingredient, was crouched in the corner, rocking back and forth in the fetal position. It would have been adorable if it wasn’t so mouthwateringly scrumptious instead. He looked like he could have been Rostik’s younger brother, even though he was a year older. A slightly darker skin tone, caramel colored would be the closest comparison, with less build and more firm tone and a younger face, Ryan was a sight to behold. Wasting no time I popped the morsel in my mouth, forced him to lie on his stomach, and pushed his little feet with my tongue so that his head was sticking out between my two cushiony lips. Teasing him a bit in my mouth, unable to control myself, I set to preparing the desert. Most of it was already done so that I wouldn’t have had to wait for it to set, but there was still a fair amount of prep work, fetching supplies, cleaning, etc. He was forced to watch as I prepared the dish which was to become his tomb. Pressing my lips together harder, I stopped him from flailing around so much, concentrating on the desert. When it was all set up I spat Ryan directly into the center of the congealed chocolate mousse. Had he had a little more fat on him he may not have sunk so quickly, but thankfully for me for many reasons, he was the perfect specimen of fitness, and he was soon up to his chin the the chocolatey goodness. Just for fun I pulled him out, gripping only his head between two fingers, and slowly licked the gooey chocolate from his body, sucking the remainder off a moment later. After putting him back into place I put a dollop of whipped cream on top of his head, a cherry on top of that, and I was done. He looked like he was wearing the strangest hat in the world, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculousness, much to his anger. Amazingly he was the first to get angry, instead of just fear and sobbing of his brethren. A lick of my lips was all it took to turn that aggression back to catatonic horror.

The ringing of several cooking timers, almost simultaneously, told me my dinner was ready. I set the table quickly, the drool building up at the corners of my mouth once more, put everything on platters, and tucked in. “I’d thank God for all he has given me, your young lives (and a scrumptious group of boys you are too) in the foreground… plus the thousands I’ve eaten before you in far more gruesome ways- actually maybe you should be thanking God! Or thanking me! Or maybe we’re the same thing. Hmmm… That’s a bit of a quandary for you. You guys praised him on every picture you posted- why do you young weightlifters do that by the way? Anyway, sorry to ramble on. I’m just very hungry so I figured I’d get the polite dinner banter over at the beginning. I don’t like talking with my mouth full anyway.” The boys looked back at me with hatred and unadulterated horror in their eyes: horror of what I had done in the past, horror at what I had to them, horror at what I was about to do to them, horror that I actually thought they tasted better than any other substance on Earth, and horror that they’d never again experience a happy moment, cool breeze, good workout, high five from a friend, good grade, kiss from their mother’s, etc. The looks merely whet my appetite more.

I suppose I liked tapas before the craze hit. The little meals, pun intended, made it possible to eat small portions of regular food in between the real meat of the dishes. I didn’t have to waste time digging through noodles before I found my prize snack, it was right there in front.

I started with the Jakub soup, and truth be told, it was a little bit too salty for my taste. The broth was watery rather than creamy, but the flavor was incredible. After a few slurps and what must have looked like half a ton of vegetables to the frightened youngster, I dipped my spoon directly under his butt, lifting him and some lukewarm broth up to my mouth. He was sitting with his ass flat on the concave base, feet spread eagle over the sides, but he quickly rolled out of the way before my mouth closed on him and the spoon, landing, with a splash back into my bowl. With only a few mouthfuls left anyway, I placed my spoon beside the bowl and the relieved meaty teen. This relief quickly gave way to renewed terror as he felt the entire bowl slowly lift off the table to my waiting supple lips. The broth washed into my mouth and down my throat in quick swallows while Jakub swam against the current with all the strength he could muster. Just when he got a foothold on the inside lip of the bowl, as most of the liquid was already gone, I flicked the back with my finger causing Jakub to lose balance and fall straight onto my tongue which immediately retracted into me mouth. I savored him for a moment, bashing him against my teeth and tongue and bulging in my cheeks, swishing the liquid and coating him in saliva, before tilting my head back and swallowing him whole. The other boys watched, terrified, as the large lump slowly traveled down my throat and splashed into the acidic goo beneath the surface. When I burped, the smell of him wafted over the other tiny guys along with the solitary quiet scream of their fellow prisoner.

Mopping my lips I pushed the bowl aside and turned my attention to the large, round studly Carter-filled swedish meatball amid a forkful of egg noodles. I poured the sauce directly onto Carters beautiful face, making him sputter and cough before soaking the rest of him and the meatball. Rather than pierce the meat immediately I played with him a little bit, turning the meatball this way and that, rolling it around the plate with my fork like the Oompa Loompas did to Violet. His face hit the hard plate as did his hands and feet, all desperately trying to get a grip so he could attempt to waddle away. As funny as that would have been to see a rumble from my stomach told me Jakub was ready for company. Carefully, I pierced the meatball, avoiding the delicious center, and heard the tines hit the ceramic on the other side. Quickly I twirled it around, making Carter visibly dizzy, as I got all of the noodles underneath him. Putting the whole forkful between my lips I closed my mouth and then retracted the fork, leaving Carter in complete darkness. I chewed softly, sure to only pinch Carter’s sides and break up the meat. The meatball had complimented Carter’s flavor impeccably well and I was in food heaven: utter bliss! Even my eyelids twitched in excitement. As I chewed some more, grounding the meat into a paste, the young man did his best to avoid my mashing teeth, scared nearly stiffless by their sheer power, capable of turning a morsel like him into mush in mere seconds. He was momentarily freed from the meat but found his body wrapped tightly around by a noodle. Smiling at this new development I casually spit out Carter, keeping the end of the noodle in my mouth. He dangled in the light of the kitchen from my mouth, held only by a long egg noodle which had intertwined itself around his leg. I swallowed the rest of the mouthful and grabbed the end of the noodle closest to my mouth, pulling it up over my head. Carter now dangled high above my mouth, slowly being lowered into the black abyss. My tongue darted out and licked at the soles of his feet before I lifted him up as high as I could. I began biting the air as hard as I could, making audible snapping sound every time I closed my jaw, once per second. Each time I opened my mouth I lower Carter a fraction of an inch lower. It was cruel, I know, but as I say, I was young. I still played with my food. Just as I was about to clamp down on Carter’s leg, severing it completely, I again switched tactics and put the end back in my mouth. Then I sucked. I slurped the noodle for a good half a minute, very tentatively pulling Carter in closer and closer. He looked down, or up in this case, past his feet at my pursed lips and saw the strand going in getting smaller and smaller. Finally he had reached my mouth and kicked feverishly. This only served to lodge his only free leg into my mouth which I slurped right up. Then his other leg followed suit. Soon after he was up to his armpit. When I close my lips on him one last time I tasted him all over, swirled him around, and gulped him down, noodle and all.

Still hungry, (after all who wouldn’t be with a meal like this), I put the small plate aside and pulled up a matching one. Max remained immobile, tied to the meat thermometer with his parsley binds, and trussed like a turkey. On either end were the fruit and vegetables, but this only served to accentuate that meaty middle, drawing the hungry eye like a magnet. His skin now tanned, not brown but certainly darker, looked a little flakey, only making him look all the more mouthwateringly scrumptious. The appetizing little cutie was so tired from the ordeal and the constant rotation that he didn’t even have the energy to scream as I lifted the entire meat thermometer. Starting with the bottom I ripped off some of the pineapple and tomatoes with my teeth, chewing intentionally audibly and gnawing ravenously. My vicious teeth gnashing had the desired effect on the three tiny piggies left outside of my roiling gut. As I chewed I began waving the skewer back and forth over the frightened other boys, stuck in their own dishes. The air whizzed past Max’s frightened face and he had a hard time catching his breath, but I was having too much fun, and had the tastiest meal in the world in front of me, so I didn’t care in the slightest. Lifting the thermometer and turning it 90 degrees, angling the point directly down my throat, I lowered it quickly, snatching off the closest vegetable. I did this again and again until only Max remained, and one or two onion pieces by his delicious pink little feet. Somehow they didn’t tan as much as the rest of him. Like a skilled sword swallower I pushed the skewer down again, deep throating the blade and feeling the top of Max’s head tickle my undulating uvula. I closed my lips just under his foot and pulled out the thermometer, sans the meat. Still trussed like a turkey with the parsley twine, the little lad wriggled like crazy, his taste positively dancing on my tongue. The marinade was the perfect accompaniment to his flavor and yet again the sensations were orgasmic. After sucking all of the marinade off and flicking Max around a few more times I felt his writhing die down, making it clear how exhausted he was. Bringing him to the back of my throat I let him see into the darkness below, listening to the gurgling of his friends being broken down to become a part of me. And then I swallowed.

With only one morsel left before dessert, I reached for the jumbo shrimp, the dark shadow of my hand- the shadow of doom- cast down on the whimpering Rostik. But instead of grabbing his plate, my hand went right over his head and pulled over my rich and creamy dessert. Ryan couldn’t believe his misfortune. His one stroke of luck was being put into the dessert, giving him a few extra moments on Earth, or rather, on the outside of my stomach. “Sorry Ryan. I never could wait for dessert. In fairness I did have enough meat and vegetables for a sweet treat… and what a sweet treat you will make!” Noticing Rostik sigh with relief I felt obliged to tell him, “don’t get too excited. I’ll still have plenty more room for the final course!” Digging my spoon into the deep dark pudding I scooped up a healthy mouthful from right next to Ryan. In fact, with each dip I intentionally grazed him with the edge of the spoon, making him wonder if this is his bite… or rather my bite of him. As more and more of the exquisite chocolate deliciousness disappeared between my lips, and I saw more of the quivering muscular form, I realized that he was positively shivering from the cold. “Oh no. Was the mousse too chilly for you? Not to worry. I’ve got the perfect thing to warm you up!” Even though the mousse was still up to his armpits I scooped him right up and deposited him gently on my tongue, ignoring his loud incessant scream. With my lips closed I warmed him up, sucked the excess whipped cream and chocolate off of him, and then spat him back into my hand where he gagged and sputtered. The shaking was now obviously less from the cold and more from the unadulterated fear coursing through his veiny body. But that wasn’t as fun to taunt him about. “I guess my mouth wasn’t warm enough! Don’t worry! There’s a place I have in mind that’s much warmer. In fact it’s like a hot tub down there. The acid will churn you up so your whole body is covered in goop so hot it’ll take the chill out of those bones, and the bones out of your skin. I’d tell you to ask the others but… I don’t think they’ll be responsive when you go see them.” Before he can scream again, and I did see his mouth opening into the familiar ‘o’ shape of all my prey, I grabbed the cherry which had rolled off his head earlier, and jab his face into it. He looked like the Headless Horsemen and I just had to laugh at him and his flailing limbs. He tried desperately to take it off of him, but it was stuck on good, right up to his shoulders. I could tell he was choking on the cherry juice so I quickly snatched him back up and brought him to my mouth for his final performance. That’s when I noticed that there was only a drop of savory mousse left in the cup. Strange, it had reached up to his underarms before I pulled him out. Was the displacement that much? How dense was my delectable meaty little treat? Before putting him in my maw one last time I dunked his cute little feet back into the goop. Then he was in. I sucked the cherry off his head, letting him watch it sit on the edge of my throat before tilting it down. He was too dazed and still panting for breath, coughing up cherry juice to scream any longer. After slurping the last of the mousse from between his long toes, digging the tip of my tongue into every groove, I said my goodbyes and sent him to join the others.

One boy left, Rostik was sobbing uncontrollably. He was hysterical so I didn’t waste any more time. I lifted him and the jumbo shrimp up to my mouth and stuck both inside, biting hard at the end of the tail. The end came off easily and I was sure to get all of the meat out of it. The juices from the shrimp mingled with Rostik’s flavorful body in a way I hadn’t even imagined, pairing with the citrus of the sauce like a dream. I rolled my eyes in ecstasy yet again and continued sampling every inch of them both. Soon I was tired of the shrimp, so chewed it into mush and pushed it down my gullet, leaving only my last piece of veal. Using my powerful tongue I was able to sculpt the little gymnast and bodybuilder into any shape I wanted. And I did. It was fun for a time, but I eventually got tired of my game. It had been an incredible meal, one I would no doubt repeat with different recipes. But the fun had come to an end and it was time to torture some other shrunken young men. Tilting my head back for the last time that night, I swallowed. Less than an hour later the muffled screams and sobs stopped emanating from my belly and the thrashing died down. I was left alone… well alone with a few hundred shrunken toys and pets… and my thoughts. I couldn’t believe I had been so cruel as to try veal. I couldn’t believe I had snuffed out five young lives with so much potential. I couldn’t believe it had only taken a misread magazine to get me to question my morals. I could, however, believe that I was going to do it again… and soon!