Another part of a collaberation with  Fischie that is long overdue. This one is a little different from the rest of my vore stories as it is told through third person rather than first, but I hope you enjoy regardless!

Beware! This story contains implied fatal digestion: Turn back if this is not what you seek!

Feel free to comment on my work, regardless of its age. Your feedback means the world to me.
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It has been days since the Mershark has eaten. She swims through the Sand Shallows, hoping to find her favorite fishing spots: The Reef and the Kelp Forest. She knew those places well, there was plenty to eat there. She reflected on the places she has been: she has seen and eaten many things in the sea. Her tough sharkskin helped her in the fights she has been in and the scars she received are faded, but there. She saw them as trophies from her hunts, and thus she was saddened by the fact they were temporary. She would get new ones as she traveled and hunted: merfolk and land dwellers gave good scars to match the challenge their warriors can pose. The Mershark misses those hunts and hopes for another good one as she found her favorite place.

The Kelp Forest was just as she remembered it: Tall stalks of kelp, their leaves obscuring one’s view, the air filled sacs keeping the forest afloat, and the roots clinging to the rocks below. The hungry Mershark experienced a feeling of nostalgia: she was born here and will die here one day. She remembers when her meals consisted of small crabs and fish. She remembers the intense encounters she had with small predators, how she has faced death and survived many times. Her feral counterparts could not come here, the kelp was dangerous to them as they could be tangled. Creatures can hide from sharks here. But the Mershark had hands to push the kelp aside: the kelp could hide nothing from her. She wanted to eat so she had energy to travel again, and the Kelp forest was the best place to do it.

The Mershark reached out, trying to find some appetizers in the leaves. After a little searching, several small crabs had vanished into her toothy maw. As she swallowed the little crustaceans down, she sensed something in the water. Bigger prey was coming towards her. She knew exactly what to do: she swam to the seabed and waited for her prey to pass overhead. She would strike once she saw her meal. She waited and waited, knowing that her patience would be rewarded. Eventually, her prey swam overhead: a Merfolk, likely foraging like the Mershark was. This is what she was hoping for, her favorite prey…

The Merfolk swam about in the kelp, looking for small fish and crabs. He held a short dagger made of metal, likely found closer to the surface where humans are sometimes claimed by Sirens. The Mershark knew that the dagger would be a problem, she has seen those blades used to deadly effect on her feral kin. But she was not a feral shark: she had a better chance to get rid of that dagger. She slowly swam up to the Merfolk, using the kelp to hide herself. She waited until her prey was close, then lunged out with her mouth wide open. The merfolk was startled by the attack and swam out of the way, causing the Mershark to go past him into the kelp.

Frustrated, the Mershark swam in the kelp, circling her prey. The Merfolk was panicking, holding his dagger out. She lunged again, this time grabbing her prey with her hands. The Merfolk panicked and stabbed the Mershark, his dagger lodging in her arm. The Mershark let go of the merfolk and pulled out the offending blade, deciding to keep it. She lunged at her prey, biting into the merfolk’s tail. With one quick motion, she lunged and bit again: moving more of prey’s tail into her body. Her meal was thrashing and fighting, but could not inflict any real damage without his dagger. The Mershark remembered her new weapon and stabbed the merfolk in the arm, just as he did to her. She pulled the blade out and took a big swallow, pulling her meal deeper into her. She swallowed again, only her prey’s hands still outside her mouth. She swallowed once more, her prey vanishing into her throat. She felt relief and satisfaction as her meal slid into her lower body, their struggles little more than a pleasurable feeling. Her prey slid into her lower body, her stomach welcoming the Merfolk with a gurgle. A feeling of satisfaction filled the mershark’s mind as her prey struggled inside her: Merfolk always struggled nicely, she thought.

With her Merfolk catch still struggling, the Mershark swam through her turf: snatching and swallowing any crabs and small fish she found. She wondered how it felt for her stomach’s largest occupant: she could hear her own stomach gurgling as it begins to process what has already been eaten. She wondered how it felt to be trapped in a tomb of flesh with little creatures being added every few minutes. She remembered all the times in her youth she almost found out, that she was almost prey herself. But now that was no worry of hers, at least not here: this forest of kelp was her turf. She thought about the meal in her stomach… and decided she wanted one more big catch before braving the seas outside her hunting grounds. She remembered the reef: always teeming with life, with all kinds of little places for prey to hide. She had very fond memories of hunting there. Perhaps it was time to visit the reef again, she thought…

The Mershark swam through the kelp forest, following familiar paths. She knew a quick way to the reef, one filled with more little critters to eat on the way. Snapping up a few little fish, just enough to leave room for another big catch, she soon reached the vibrant and colorful landscape of the reefs. Countless fish swam in and around the coral, crabs scuttled in and out of their hiding places: this place was a banquet for the Mershark. But the little things no longer interested her: the still struggling Merfolk made her desire another big catch…

After a while of surveying the reef, the Mershark found a particularly large and slow fish: just the catch she was hoping for. The Mershark approached her intended prey, waiting for the perfect moment. The fish swam about, seemingly unaware of the danger approaching it. Just a the fish seemed to notice the Mershark, she lunged at the fish with her jaws wide open. In her bite, she took in the fish’s head. She then bit again, pulling her meal inward. The Merhshark started to swallow her meal, each gulp pulling her catch deeper and deeper into her. After a few gulps, the fish’s tail fin vanished into the Mershark, who then sent her meal down with one final gulp. With a large fish now in her stomach, the Mershark finally felt full…

The Mershark would spend the next few days digesting her massive meal, her gurgling stomach working away the prey inside. Once her meal had been mostly churned away, the Mershark looked at her trophy: the dagger she took from the Merfolk. A good weapon, she thought: Perfect for her future hunts. She would stay around the reef for awhile longer, letting the last of her meal be turned to nourishment for her before setting out back into the vast ocean...