...the Scolipede will feast.
This is a story about a peculiar Scolipede partaking in his favorite pastime: eating the inedible. Contains massive amounts of object vore.
Word count: 3,170
EDIT 4-25-17: I've done some more proofreading and fixed a couple mistakes. The story below and the file have been updated.

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“I’m off to the convention, Harry. I’ll be gone for a few days; try to behave, okay?”

“Harry”, the Scolipede, simply smiled at his owner in response as he stood in the hallway leading to the front door. Reassured, the owner slipped out the door and towards a waiting bus. As he heard the bus start its engine and begin to move away, the 8ft bughorse dropped his smile and began to hungrily look at the house around him.

You see, “Harry”, or whatever his current owner decides to call him, is no ordinary Scolipede. His name is actually Pete, and he had the incredible gift of an invincible jaw and a strong, bottomless stomach. Ever since he was young, Pete had found ordinary food to be bland and unappetizing, but on that fateful day when he accidentally scarfed up a lost baseball and found it to be more delicious than anything he’d ever eaten before, he realized that his true calling was to eat the inedible. Unfortunately, eating his owner’s stuff tended to get Pete in trouble, so he had devised a plan. He would roam the tall grass, waiting for someone to come upon and capture him. Then, he would slowly gain his new owner’s trust, using a combination of yearnful stretching and other body language to convince his owner to let him roam free outside of his Pokéball, first in the backyard and then in the house itself. Then, when the opportunity struck for Pete to be alone in the house for a long enough period of time, he would devour everything inside and make his escape into the wild, starting the cycle over again. His current owner had been pretty easy to convince; They were an inexperienced part-time trainer looking for a strong Pokémon to battle with, which Pete reluctantly did. However, their main job required them to attend a faraway convention without their Pokémon in tow. This was Pete’s chance; there was no way the owner would be back for at least three days, which was more than enough time for Pete to have his feast.

The hungry Scolipede scanned the room around him. The one-story house was simple, with an open-plan living/front room, a combined kitchen and dining room, two bedrooms, a master bath, and an attached garage, all modestly furnished. While it was no McMansion, it was still chock full of items to eat, and so Pete began by moving into the living room. Walking up to the coffee table, he picked up the TV remove in his jaw and slowly swallowed, savoring the feeling of the rectangular device moving through his throat and into his stomach. After at least a month of struggling down Pokéfeed to keep up appearances, it felt good to finally indulge in his favorite pastime. After the remote, Pete consumed a candle and a couple books, clearing off the coffee table. He then munched on the table itself, crunching through the wood like it was nothing but an unusually shaped potato chip until he had devoured it completely. The peckish bughorse then moved to the bookcase that lined one of the walls. He had never learned how to read, but the books themselves felt great as they fell down his throat one by one into his endless void of a stomach. After clearing out the books and then eating the shelves themselves, he moved on to the nearby window, tearing the curtains off their rail and scarfing them down. He considered eating the blinds behind them, but decided to leave them alone, lest the neighbors catch a glimpse of the large Pokémon consuming his owner’s possessions. Moving to the wall beside the window, he then consumed the various pictures lining it, taking particular pleasure in consuming a photograph of him with his owner. With most of the room’s small items out of the way, Pete then began to munch his way through the couch. The moisture-absorbing artificial stuffing was never the most pleasant thing to put in his mouth, but Pete took pride in being thorough, so down his gullet it went.

With the couch disappeared, the only thing left in the living room was the entertainment center. Pete scarfed down the video games and controllers that lined the center’s shelves, but stopped when he got to the console itself. Pete had bitten into one once before and gotten quite the shock, but in the time since, he had learned of a solution. Using his strength to move the center away from the wall, he squeezed himself behind it and used his jaw to unplug all of the wires leading from the various electronics to the wall. He then unplugged or ripped the other end of the wires from their devices and slurped them down like noodles. Satisfied that he was no longer in danger of getting shocked, Pete moved to the front of the center and consumed the gaming console in four bites. After doing the same to the DVR, he moved on to the TV, which took considerably longer to consume. Scarfing down the last bit of plastic and circuitry, he finally ate the entertainment center itself, leaving the living room bare.

Looking down at himself, the hungry Scolipede watched as the lump made by the last clump of wood and metal traveled down his throat and into his gut, momentarily making a bulge before just as quickly fading away. Pete did not know why he was gifted with this strange hammerspace stomach; all he knew was that it could store enough possessions to last him for the month or so it took to gain a new owner’s trust, although that didn’t stop him from gulping down the occasional rock or small household object to wet his appetite while nobody was watching. It also meant that his feasts were not limited to the ordinary capacity of his stomach, nor did he have to deal with an oversized gut fighting with his feet for the right to touch the floor. This meant that he could immediately move to the sparse dining room, where he consumed the tablecloth and chairs. Before he began devouring the table, however, he noticed that there was a simple chandelier hanging over the table. Confident that its light switch would keep him from getting electrocuted, Pete set his front feet on the table to give him some extra height before plucking each individual lightbulb from their housing. As he consumed each bulb, he savored the unique feeling of them popping as he chewed for a second before swallowing them down. Finishing his light snack, he turned his attention to the chandelier itself; however, he was afraid of causing a disturbance if he ripped the now-bulbless chandelier from the ceiling, so he satisfied himself with a couple of nips to the housings before dismounting the table and sending it piece by piece into his limitless stomach.

With the second room gutted, he moved on to the kitchen, which made him salivate with the thought of all of the individual objects ripe for the picking. He started with the silverware drawer, gulping down any utensil he could get his mouth or tongue around, sometimes in groups of two or three. He then proceeded to ransack every drawer and cabinet in the kitchen, wolfing down whisks and spatulas, biting into metal pots and pans like they were nothing but delicious cookies, and even consuming the drawers, cabinet doors, and any internal shelving until there was nothing left. Moving on to the top of the counter, he noticed a knife block and several knives lying around. Using his mouth, he carefully inserted the various cutting devices into their respective slots, then began to consume the block whole. It was a struggle (he would usually eat something this big in several bites, but Pete didn’t want to swallow any unprotected sharp bits and risk them slicing into his throat), but he was eventually able to gulp it down into his gut, where it made a nice bulge before fading away like all the rest. He then proceeded to clear the top of the counters of their various tools and devices, before pulling the oven from the wall and eating it bit by bit from the plug to the door. After munching down the last chunk of metal, Pete began to feel thirsty, so he moved to the kitchen sink and nosed it on, lapping from the stream until he had his fill. He then engulfed the handle with his mouth, moved it to the off position, and bit down, consuming most of it. The prospect of eating the kitchen sink was tempting, if only for poetic reasons, but Pete decided against it, lest he risk biting into a pipe and causing water to spew out. He was only here to eat his owner’s possessions, not destroy their house with water damage!

Pete stepped back from the sink and surveyed the areas of the house that he had already gone through. The only things left standing were the chandelier that he had already decided against eating, and the refrigerator. The prospect of all that food getting in the way of the tasty metal and plastic was unappetizing to him, but he had no qualms with slurping up its power cord and tearing the handles from the doors, sending them into his gut to join half of his owner’s possessions. He then moved on to the other side of the house, entering the spare bedroom. Having slept in here for many nights, Pete knew that the room was sparsely furnished, and that he had already slipped most of the items worth eating into his stomach while his owner was asleep. However, with the owner gone, it was now safe to eat the items that would most apparently be gone, so he quickly sent the bedside lamp and nightstand down his throat. He then proceeded to eat the empty wardrobe and scarf down the curtains, this time even ripping the railing from the wall and swallowing it down. With nothing else to eat, Pete started to work on the bed and its frame, chewing through fabric and metal until the gluttonous bughorse was the only thing left in the space the bed once occupied. On his way out of the room, he ripped the door off its hinges and ate that too.

Between the spare and master bedroom was the house’s sole bathroom. Pete tended to leave every bathroom he encountered mostly intact, but after searching around and rummaging through the drawers, he did decide to wolf down a hairbrush, a couple toothbrushes, and the shower curtain. Before moving on, he also ate the sink faucet’s handle and the door. Then, rounding the corner, Pete entered the master bedroom. He always saved this room for last, since it was usually chock full of trinkets and memorabilia, and this one was no different. Pete had snuck in here during some of his braver nights and scarfed down some hardly-noticeable trinkets, dreaming of the day when he could strip the room bare. That day had now come, and the greedy bughorse wasted no time, gulping down pictures, certificates, trophies, medals, and other assorted doodads as fast as he could, rarely leaving his mouth empty for more than a second. Once he’d cleared the walls and flat surfaces of their keepsakes, he opened his master’s drawer order to start working on what clothes were left after they had packed for their trip. Lying in the pile of clothes in the top compartment, however, was the belt holding his owner’s Pokéballs. Pete hesitated for a moment; this moment was always the most special part of his feasts. Not because he liked eating other Pokémon while they were in their balls; in fact, he despised the thought and would usually leave them behind as one of the few things spared from his rampages. He felt it was special because his own Pokéball represented his ownership, and by eating it himself, he marked the point at which he was a feral Pokémon once again. Nudging each ball with his nose until he found the only one that felt empty, he grasped it in his mouth and pulled it out. Enclosing it within his maw, he savored the flavor of the device for a second, swirling it around in his mouth. Once he felt like he’d drawn out the moment enough, he slowly swallowed, sending a small spherical bulge down is throat and towards his bottomless stomach. After pausing for a second to savor the moment, he picked the belt up in his mouth and placed it in a corner of the room, then returned his attention to his now-former owner’s clothing.

Like the world’s most ravenous moth, he made quick work of the dresser’s contents, gulping down every clothing item he could find, usually several at a time. Amongst all the fabric making its way into his mouth, Pete thought he recognized a t-shirt his owner had received after they battled against a local celebrity some weeks ago. It didn’t matter what was on it, though; it was all destined feed his bottomless gut. Scarfing down the final item (a scarf, fittingly enough), the ever-hungry Scolipede began to munch on the drawers themselves, eventually working his way to the frame until there was nothing left. He then moved on to the desk, slurping up the computer and monitor’s power cables like noodles before beginning to consume the devices as well. As he broke into the computer case, he crunched into most of the inner components indiscriminately, but when he recognized the hard drive, he slowly drew it out of its slot and swallowed it and all the data it contained whole. After finishing his high-tech snack, he nosed his way into the desk drawers, consuming the disks and flash drives he found inside until it was empty, then devoured the desk itself. With the room almost bare, Pete found himself staring at his owner’s bed as he slurped down the curtains. This was the centerpiece of the room, something his owner had spent so much time sleeping on, and something he was going to take great pleasure in consuming.

Pete decided to take a different approach than he used for the much-sparser spare bed. He started with the blankets, scarfing down both the comforter and top sheet. Then he moved onto the pillows, managing to fit a smaller one into his throat in a single gulp and chomping through the others until there was nothing left. Once the bed was looking considerably flatter, he worked the fitted sheet off the mattress and consumed that. Finally, he ate the rest of the bed much like he did the spare bed, working his bites from the foot of the mattress and frame until he consumed the headboard. Letting out a self-satisfied urp, the ravenous Scolipede looked around the now-bare room. Once teeming with trinkets and memorabilia, the only thing that had escaped his hungry maw was the belt of Pokéballs in the corner. Satisfied, he ripped the bedroom door off its hinges and ate most of it before leaving the room with a large chunk of wood still sticking out of his mouth.

Once he was out of the bedroom, the Scolipede surveyed his work. Once filled with various furnishings, trinkets and memorabilia, the various rooms were now presumably as bare as the day his owner had first moved in. Yet, despite the raw mass of all the furniture and objects currently in the gluttonous bughorse’s stomach, he felt neither weighed down nor particularly full. He usually didn’t feel full after his feasts; well, not unless they contained one specific thing. Smiling as he gulped down the last of the bedroom door, Pete made his way through the ruined kitchen and ate his way through the door leading to the one area of the house he had yet to touch.

When he entered the garage, he noted that it was surprisingly free of clutter, containing only a large toolbox and his owner’s car. He started with the toolbox, opening each drawer individually and consuming the various tools and hardware inside. Some of them were contaminated with various chemicals or grease, but Pete’s stomach always seemed to be able to handle the otherwise-poisonous substances quite easily, so he consumed indiscriminately until the toolbox was empty, then sent the toolbox into his bottomless stomach bite by scrap metal-filled bite. Once he was finished, Pete turned to face his owner’s car, a near-luxury sedan that they had recently purchased. Licking his chops and salivating a little, the greedy bughorse approached the front of the car and took a big bite out of the front bumper, chewing thoroughly before swallowing the shattered plastic. He always loved showing his dominance over these machines, and what better way to show dominance than by eating them? Continuing with his final course, the ravenous Scolipede consumed the car bite by bite, taking a particularly perverse joy as he ate the motor (the “heart” of the mechanical behemoth) and the driver’s controls. Devouring such a massive object was a time-consuming affair, and night had fallen by the time Pete had reduced the vehicle to only a solitary license plate. Finishing his feast with a flourish, he picked the plate up in his mouth and tossed it into the air, catching it in his open maw and swallowing it in a single motion. With a satisfied sigh, the Scolipede laid down on its back in the space the vehicle used to occupy, rubbing his slightly-enlarged stomach with his forelegs. Even though his gut was seemingly bottomless, cars always filled him up to the point where he felt… content. Tired after his gargantuan meal, Pete slowly closed his eyes and fell asleep as his stomach started its task of digesting the monumental pile of objects he had consumed that day.

…

It was an hour before dawn when Pete finished his nap. Rolling back onto his feet, the gluttonous Scolipede made his way back into the house and through the ransacked kitchen toward the sliding rear door. Using brute force to derail it, he consumed his equivalent of an after-dinner mint and was about to leave when he remembered something. Turning to face the edge of the doorframe and tilting his head ninety degrees, the bughorse took as big of a bite as he could from the outer wall of the house, crunching through wood and insulation and chewing for a moment before swallowing for a final time. The explanations all of his previous owners had for their suddenly-bare houses varied, but they usually revolved around an unusually ambitious team of thieves. As he turned away and headed for the woods, Pete couldn’t help but smile as he thought of the single clue he had left that suggested that, just maybe, the true culprit wasn’t a thief, but just a particularly peckish bug.