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Borusa-Ryalam
Para (C) Borusa
Long before herbivores and carnivores all across the world know Para’s name, the parasaur attends a field trip. She and her third-grade classmates visit Carnivorizer Headquarters, a building whose sacredness is rivalled only by the religious texts of meat-eaters which licensed its construction. Once their teacher, Ms. Quinn the t-rex, walks them into the lobby, a velociraptor of the Carnivorizer company greets them and guides them through the main floor before escorting them on an elevator to a few other attractive floors visitable by tourists.
Inevitably comes the display all the dinosaur kids have been waiting for: the carnivorizing.
A scrawny, six-foot-tall dilophosaurus from a foreign country (where there’s no such thing as carnivorizer, bless their poor hearts) receives the alchemical elixir called carnivorizer from an employee. Unlike all the first-world carnivores, this sorry ’saurus was never christened with the drink at birth. He cries out some thankful gibberish when it comes to his hands, then he chugs it till the glowing bloodred runneth over and drenches his long, sinewy striped neck.
The dino children watch with dreamy eyes. The last drop of carnivorizer slides down his tongue. His build—which hardly trumps the malnourished builds of herbivores in terms of muscle, breadth and scale density—is transformed at a speed which shouldn’t be possible because of the slow rate of his metabolism. His pecs and biceps enlarge, as though the blood of some demigod was spilt on them and absorbed by them. A roar of rapture matures halfway through its release, deepening as light fixtures buzz and his head swings higher. His shoulders and hips grow rounder, wider, stronger and bulkier, and his three-clawed toes expand along the floor. He crests at nine feet tall.
The baptism of another highblood is complete. Another carnivore climbs to his birthright position atop the social hierarchy, a place where herbivores are unbelonging …
“Today, let’s have a chat about something fun, shall we?”
As soon as Ms. Quinn says this, Para doubts a fun conversation is on the way. Nevertheless, the class of thirty eats it right up, and erupts into cheers from their desks.
“The subject for today is: careers! What would we all like to be when we grow up?”
Para has been daydreaming in class all since last Friday when they did the field trip. Her hand jumps up like a threatened fish from a river.
“Alright then, Para. Tell the class what you’d like to be and why.”
“I’m gonna be an alchemist, like the dinos at Carnivorizer H.Q. That way, I can make the carnivorizer, and sip it, too. Then I’ll give batches out to all the herbivores, my friends first, then all the other plant-eaters. That way, everyone will be equal, and stuff like sports will be fairer.”
One of the big douchebag t-rex kids in back snorts bubble gum out of his nose, then bawls with laughter. Other carnivores laugh, though some look more unsettled, and the herbivores look with rings of horror around their eyes at Para, as though she has swigged a liter of arsenic.
The next thing Para knows, a paddle smacks her across the face, and she lies beside her seat on the fuzzy choo-choo train mat, sobbing.
“SILENCE!”
The roar ceases all laughter—even pales the carnivores to the previous complexion of the herbivores. Now, some of the herbivores are clinging to each other or hiding under the desks.
“Alright, you little smart aleck: That’s three days of suspension for you. Bet you feel real clever now, don’t you? So clever, I’m calling your mummy so she can pick you up, take you home and spank you properly.” The teacher dials Para’s parents; screams across the landline for a couple minutes; smashes the phone onto the receiver. “While you’re away, you can write your carnivore classmates and I a sorry note for tongueing off about the order of things. I told your mum to learn you again about why herbivores mustn't think of carnivorizer. Pray you pay attention to her this time! Oh, and herbivores make for horrid alchemists. I say this to save you some trouble in the future, Para: Don’t you bother with alchemy. Become a florist if you’re an overachiever; else, work as a lunch-lady or something.”
We as a society have come a long way: Haven’t we, Miss Quinn?
Para—now middling her twenties—smiled. She leaned against a street pole on the sidewalk across from Carnivorizer Headquarters. She had grown several feet taller since third grade; was six feet tall, now. The scales of her great-bellied underside had an eggnog color, the scales of her face, limbs and tail-flanks a biscotti color, her back scales and snout-tip a seagreen. Hanging from one shoulder was a leather purse. Alchemical reagents and elixirs bloated its sides.
The times have changed. I wonder if you’ve changed any …
She thought of Miss Quinn, of how the stigma against herbivores being alchemists had died off, somewhat, since the 90s. Teachers across the country could no longer paddle or lash herbivorous children for entertaining heretical ideas. Para reckoned the punishment was still suspension, though. And of course young herbivores wanting to be innocent alchemists, who never thought of carnivorizer, was frowned upon too, but newer state laws kept kids away from the school nurse for teacher-related injuries.
Somewhere out there, thousands—maybe tens, maybe hundreds of thousands—of little herbivores are thinking the same things I used to. She didn’t deny the unoriginality of wanting to be equal with carnivores. She just denied the originality of actually making a change by dismantling the hierarchy from the inside-out. Today, she would do just that.
But, she had suffered so many years of bullying and discrimination that she didn’t care much for equality, these days. Once I’m done here … the meat-eaters will know what it’s like to be beneath us … She slipped into an alley. She chugged down an elixir. An illusion happened, vomiting rainbow colors over the brick walls briefly, portraying her as one of the chief employees of Carnivorizer.
This should last her ten minutes.
Appearing to be three feet taller and 100% more steak-hungry, Para hid her alchemy purse behind a dumpster, then crossed the street. She pushed through the revolving doors of the H.Q. A metal detector slid its magnetic rays over her while security guards checked her employee ID. She prayed that the employee she ate earlier for the DNA-regent of an alchemical mixture had valid ID.
Guards nodded. She grinned. The last chunks of her raptor meal were making her belly grumble like a meat-eater’s. Although this was an unnecessary enhancement to her disguise (for she was already cleared), she made a point of clapping her gut and saying loudly, “I could really use a burger about now!” as she passed through the lobby, turning a few puzzled expressions her way.
She felt pretty clever. There were published reports of dozens of carnivores who had used their alchemy to breach security: to try and steal carnivorizer so that they could sell it to foreign countries. Because so many break-ins had been done before, alchemy detectors had been installed in the metal detectors. Para had come here with the hope that the detector-engineers never bothered to test the detector on herbivores, due to the common knowledge being that herbivores would never be sold incriminating potions, nor would they ever have the intelligence to create one of their own.
She couldn’t help but chuckle in relief, speeding up as she camouflaged herself in the crowds. She got into an elevator, and thought it funny how casual everyone else looked while she trembled, filled to the brim with exhilaration.
Everything felt surreal and theatrical.
A dozen sharp-toothed dinos got off on the thirtieth floor, including her. But she abandoned the mob, sliding into a darker corridor, making a couple of turns before she slid her ID card through a door she had only seen before on classified documents. The door slid shut behind her, and left her in a laboratory where she found the recipe for creating carnivorizer after a few minutes of scouring a file compartment, at which point her illusion transformation wore off and returned her appearance to that of a parasaur.
She chuckled darkly, reading the ingredients. She glanced up at the document and gazed at all the exotic reagents on the shelves. Not only could she produce her own carnivorizer: She could add a few ingredients she had never been able to afford before. The tweaks to the recipe would make her the top of the food chain.
She laid out some regents on a countertop, then mixed reagents together in a couple of beakers then mixed the contents of those beakers together, concocting her own experimental version of the carnivorizer. The bloodred juice glowed vibrantly and bubbled, and she drank a full beaker.
A security guard had seen camera footage of someone walking into the laboratory without clearance, so they had run across the headquarters to check on the lab. The door slid open, and nine-foot-tall utahraptor nearly coughed up his oatmeal at what he saw. A broadening, swelling parasaur’s tail swatted a countertop, shattering beakers as the parasaur groaned and outgrew their former self.
Before the transformation, Para had eaten plenty of protein-rich plants in her adult life (as if to rebel against the lithe stereotype of an herbivore), so she already had brawn and girth which made her incompatible with doorways of your average herbivore’s home. Her round, beefy biceps and thickset tail engendered aspects of a squat figure even though she was taller than average for most herbivores. In her early twenties, she had pushed a broken-down truck a couple blocks to the repair shop, and she had perspired little from the strain of the activity.
Now, she grew even beefier and bulkier. The carnivorizer amplified the traits she had nurtured from a protein-rich diet, widening her pecs and rotund stomach, enlarging the muscles of her limbs and sculpting them with iron-firm striations. Her legs formed a wider arch, feet stomping down harder as bones crunched and swelled and muscle tissue made sounds that correlated in the utahraptor’s mind with sin itself.
*CRRNNNNCCCCH!*
“URRGH-AAAH~!”
Para peaked at nine feet tall, matching the utahraptor’s height. But when she flexed her overgrown stocky arms out at angles and accentuated her girth, the utahraptor, despite his weightlifter’s build, made him look comparatively like a nerd who often gets stuffed in lockers. He screamed and snatched a stun-laser off his security waist-belt. A laser bolt squealed out of the weapon and ricocheted off the bongo-dwarfing drum that was her belly, the belly swinging and jiggling all about as the redirected shot exploded smokily on a wall behind the guard.
“Heh, that tickles, nerd~”
“Paws in the air, h-herbivore! Don’t move another muscle, or it w-won’t be your belly I aim for!”
With pleasure, Para thought.
Both paws she put up in the air—and aimed them at the utahraptor. Testing out one little tweak she had made to the carnivorizer, she launched one magenta bolt from one palm and one from the other. Bolt one seared his weapon-holding hand and sent the gun sizzling to the shut sliding door, the gun shrinking to the size of a child’s toy. Before he could fully swing around to face the thrown-aside weapon, there rolled over his prehistoric scales a feeling of meteoric heat which became ice-age cold just as suddenly as it came. He squealed—voice losing its bully’s burliness and becoming light, brittle and fretful—and fell near his gun.
The coffee in someone’s styrofoam cup splashed up and smeared their hand with hot Arabic-black as they ambled by the sealed laboratory: The enlarged herbivore had taken her first stomp toward her weaponless snack, though this someone—an allosaurus—had no means of knowing that. But the thud magnified the allosaurus’ horrific imagination of the happenings of the room (it was said that experiments were conducted on people there); and he went jogging off with a pang of fear that a monster had just awakened, fretting so much on his way around the corner that he became numb to the coffee burns on his paw.
Para lifted the scrawny twerp by the spiny nape of his theropod neck. The avian–fore limbed dinosaur screeched with pathetic lunges for the door, but his cries cut off when the pred slurped across his chitinous, feathery snout, drenching him in her slobber that smelled of artichokes, asparagus and brussel sprouts.
He groaned in disgust, marked by the sticky reek of her rotten, plant-based diet. She—however—felt the feeling of addiction bubble up in her: It was a witch’s cauldron into which this utahraptor’s flavor had dropped a reactive ingredient. Never in her life had she cared to consume raw meat; the blandness and lack of freshness had never appealed to her taste buds. But today she had consumed her first dinosaur, and her appetite for fresh meat was flowering—a fatal fact for the raptor, whose hide may have been densified by his carnivorizer christening at birth, but not dense enough to withstand the caustic juices of an upgraded, herb-breathed hunter.
Swivelling her ruddy white–faced meal to face her maw, she went NOMPH!
Even muffled, his survival-banter threw harsh, metallic echoes across the room, the sound erecting her gooseflesh. Her eyes snapped open as the spicy, gamey teriyaki chicken taste of the dino enraptured her. Only once before had her jaws been forced to distend to such a breadth that they crackled from the strain, and she loved the jerking, squirming pressure. The thrill drugged her. She could compare it with her first time of trying ’shrooms back in summer of ‘16—this was a high during which she was more sober, though: a high that made dominating and eating greedily feel more and more natural.
Grabbing his waist, she raised him to angle him like a saxophone, then stuffed his neck of dusty-russet scales down her stump of throat. She swallowed and swallowed. The rising difficulty with which she breathed became an exhilarating drive for her. Her throat-flesh pleasurably heaved outward and neck ballooned, the scales creaking in a ripple of motion that soon pushed her domes-for-pecs out. Hot, earthy breath washed over the carnivore with each GUAP of circumferential muscle around his shoulders. Drool soaked his descending wing-arms next.
Her ravenous jaws flexed and flexed with a lethargic smile, as if she were whittling away at one great bamboo stick. Drumbeats of his struggle thumped and jiggled her pectorals. Grunting in euphoria, she bunched her claws around the bulge falling under that busty chest, feeling the skimpy boy wrestle through her sloshing innards with riveting headbutts and punches.
GLUARP, GURRP, SGUP!
Bloated into a breathtaking sack of flesh, her throat jounced as the utahraptor elbowed and pelvic thrusted against the thick, sloshing, stretching boundaries of pink. Para clapped her bongo of belly, which groaned in anticipation for the food which hung just above. Time to put you where you belong, meat-head!
GULLLLLP!
The ovular scales of her great, rotund pot belly each swelled about an inch in size from their previous egg-like length and width, and her belly pushed so far ahead of her that not even her tail-tip could touch where the gravid dome burgeoned out the farthest. “Ohhh …” Food coma slumped her against the countertop where glass glistened from broken beakers. She didn’t even need to stand; her belly beached against the ground, grumbling out snarls, dealing gaseous blows to the curve of her gut, becoming more and more unsettled as the utahraptor attempted to liberate himself from her internal parasaur walls. Back when she was six feet tall and lacked the fortification of the carnivorizer, the attacks of a meal had ached her belly and left her hiccuping out burps in an unpleasant nausea; but now, a carnivore’s fuss was laughably harmless to her innards and wholly a deep, lovable massage.
“BUWWWEEEEEEEEAAAAARRRRRRPPPPPHP!! Egads … that feels great~ Keep it up, pipsqueak—GUAAAAAARHHGHP! Mmmgh, I can hardly hear myself over the g—guuUUUuuuurrrrrghhk—the gurgles you’re making … You’ll be promoted to herbivore bulk in no time …”
“There are cameras everywhere!” whined the utahraptor, whose bird-like features were already melting and getting dribbly, so that he looked like a mass of yolk diffusing into her stomach juices. “Before you make it more than a few steps through the hall, you’ll be surrounded. They’ll find you—imprison you for life—”
“URRRREEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWGH!!!”
The words “eh?” and “yawn” were seemingly combined in a belch that mountainous roared through the floor, along with the floor above and below. It could have been mistaken for the wrath of some t-rex supervisor.
“Good …” Para answered, a dreamy tone in her voice. “Let them come. Let them find me … Let them see the powerhouse that I’m becoming …”
Now, the utahraptor opened his mouth to ask what powerhouse that might have been, but a “Gnnngh~!” followed, and the stomach muscles squeezed down on him tight. He bellowed, “Nooooo!” and her belly spasmed and shook with more vigor than ever; simultaneously, it shrank and churned faster than ever, for the contracting walls kneaded the dino into a goopy pulp who was tossed over himself again, again … She squished her tummy between her palms, saying, “Time to melt, nerd~!” and groaned out as her squelchy croaks gyred through her midriff.
Para had tweaked the carnivorizer for extra fun: She now had the skill to inherit the carnivorizer boon of any dinosaur she ate and digested, so after she gurgled away this guy, his carnivorizer effects would stack onto hers to turn her into an even huger, stronger, sturdier juggernaut.
Bubbly jet sensations shot through her body in pulses, and with each pulse she grew bigger. Her hips gyred as if she were hula-hooping as they burgeoned bigger and her body towered higher in blissful hiccups of growth. Her belly only shrank minutely: It acidically eliminated the bulges of theropod while it sponged some of the theropod’s mass into its beautiful, plump curve, making permanent the gut’s current bigness instead of a product of the gut housing prey.
A grunt launched out of her elongating parasaur jaws, whose teeth grew sharper and longer, as if evolving for the purpose of gobbling down inferior carnivores. Her shoulders rolled wider, and the dispersing essence of her digested prey muscled out her limbs further. The luster of her roundening biceps, forearms and thighs intensified while the ovular scales expanded to be as large as the phones of headphones. She harrumphed with bliss, stomping about during the paroxysms of her growth, and her head thunked against the ceiling of the short room when she reared up to twelve feet tall.
Gloriously, Para stood taller than almost every dinosaur in the pro basketball leagues, and she far exceeded those gangly athletes in wideness and strength. The power she could feel coursing through her arms, legs and tail intoxicated her; and she could hear her great, husky back muscles rippling with the lightest of her heavy exhales.
Although she had outgrown the door of the room by about a foot, she didn’t contemplate walking out through it. She grinned, thrust back an elbow then slammed giant knuckles at the door. A solid, round chunk of architecture that included the door and the wall rimming it exploded forward, skidded a few yards then rolled on its rim to a halt like a sewer lid. She had scared back a gang of five security guards—verdant allosauruses of lime-ivory belly hides whose heads wore tough crimson frills atop the temples and brows.
“Well well well,” rumbled the deep, powerful parasaur voice from the maw of the figure which lumbered through the smoky debris of the fist-made threshold. “If it isn’t more FODDER for my tummy~ So glad that you could come~”
“Plug her, boys!” one of the allosauruses bawled, after which he and the other four raised laser rifles, took aim and started drumming themselves with the recoil from thunders of laser fire. These were weapons of the highest grade: None were authorized to use them, unless there was an attempt by someone to smuggle carnivorizer or steal high-end valuables from the company. One mere blast could put a hulking king of the jungle to bed, yet more than half a dozen shots drummed her gut and muscled form over a few seconds, and they did little more than stun her. If she hadn’t eaten the utahraptor, two shots would have nailed her to her back.
Para chuckled darkly, her figure even more sinister amidst the smoke of the failing laser-fire. Already, her scales had become so dense and impenetrable; her resilience could be paired against that of a tank.
The parasaur bolted at the frontrunner while he was reloading. From the pallid, geeky-looking lout there came a string of cries like a withheld sneeze: They rose steadily in pitch, but nothing climactic ever came from him before the herbal-smelling lips squelched over his torso and slurped him into those strong, enlarged parasaur depths. The length of the throat, which had been enlarged along with Para, gripped him with uncomfortably powerful lubricated muscles. His confines boasted ample space between the contractions, during which they gripped him with all the firmness of a war veteran’s handshake.
The other four employees scattered, such as billiard balls, when struck by the white ball that was the terrible sight of their carnivore comrade being munched down. With a GULP, she bellied him as easy as her quadruped ancestors might have gulped ferns and shrubs. Waves of a water cooler lashed against its plastic confines as guns flew into the air at the end of the hall; and behind the abandoned weapons, the employees scurried around the corner for the elevator, and one of them mashed the down button perhaps a hundred times in five seconds. A wily snigger accompanied a slow champion’s thunder of footsteps as her shadow swelled over the door and the dead-ended quartet of dinosaurs.
One tried to run under her legs, but her mighty tail—an appendage that may have weighed more than him entire—lashed toward her thighs at the base, swatting him into the other guards, which she presently “dug into.” Riders on the elevator heard harsh, distorted gurgles and swallow noises which rose in volume as they rose to the floor before the final stop: a stop which now brought them to dropping their suitcases, clinging to each other and bawling out.
An innocent DING pried the elevator doors apart; and upon the floor (whose patterning resembled that of an elderly dinosaur’s favorite sweater) stood a parasaur licking her claws, groaning in pleasure and groping under her ginormous, round gut. Although, the elevator passengers could only view the dome of gut which pushed through the elevator threshold, for she had just polished off all five of the delicious meat-eaters.
“GRRUUUUHHHHHGGHHHHHHHHRRRRHHHPPPPPP! Rhhmm …” Sucking sounds came from her cleaning the flavor of barbecue and prehistoric burgers off of her paws. Burbles echoed into the elevator from her massive, fluctuating stomach, while all the passengers backed to the back of the car; some of them were swooning. “Nnnuaagh … buuuaarrhhp … That was some finger-lickin’ guuUUEEEAAHHGGGHK good staff … I wonder what sort of food awaits me ahead of my tummy? Hmm-hmm-hm~”
One of the passengers ran toward the stomach just to punch another floor on the control panel. The elevator dinged, and the doors made an honest move to close, but the bottomless belly wedged the doors open, scaly wrinkles forming on the gut’s doughy flanks where the doors squeezed. Then, instead of closing, the doors were heaved open in pulses as the stomach convulsively grew … Or was it shrinking? The visual effect of a dolly zoom was generated as the stomach deflated from metabolising its prisoners with a frightful storm of borborygmi, while the stomach’s owner grew bigger at the same time.
“Nnnnnghh … BWWWAAAAAAAAWWWWWPPHHHH!! Going somewhere? I don’t think so, tiny dinies~” Para’s growth anchored her voice down more and more, the tone becoming so deep that the ignition of her speech felt like a great barbell being dropped. No voice anyone in the elevator had ever heard had ever been so taut or tremulous.
Narrowing her eyes, Para knew that she would need to unlodge her tummy before she could reach inside of the snack box and placate her growing case of the munchies again. Cracks skated away from the elevator door frame as she clasped her gut, gritting her teeth as she enlarged again; as her shoulders and hips parted another several feet across; as the beef of her husky frame inflated and the rotund muscles began engulfing each other, deep striations swamping her tonnage. Her tail, feet and muzzle evolved to mutant proportions. She grew to fifteen feet tall as she hauled her gut free from the seemingly shrinking threshold, and the threshold crumbled into chunks as she went bowling over herself through the hall.
Gasps of relief slipped through the elevator as the doors slid shut, and the car travelled away from the floor via the shaft. Para rose and dusted herself off, simmering hot air from her nose. So a few runts got away from my gut—meager loss, thought Para. You know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna stuff my mouth with even more than what got away from me~
The parasaur—whose head now nearly grazed the roof and flanks threatened to be caught between the sides of the hall—swung around, then burst with speed for a windowed wall that lay at the end of a room of cubicles. Employees ducked under the cubicles as Para vaulted through the window. Sunlight refracted brilliantly on glass shards a dozen storeys above the street. Para landed amongst a shower of glass, her foot-paws smashing the roof of a muscle car into a hammock shape. Around her an army of five hundred government soldiers gawked: They had surrounded Carnivorizer H.Q.’s entranceway, expecting her to come out the front.
One time-waster atop a military tank yelled into a megaphone: This must have been a warning, but what exactly was said makes no difference, for she clearly paid no mind to it. Soldiers encircled her, having taken positions to fire at her from ten-plus yards away on a blocked off street. These rounds were of a grade which could penetrate bulletproof glass and puncture armored vehicles. They flattened against her jiggling pecs and belly scales; and even louder than the cacophony of bullets was the slow, rising roar of hunger from her stomach …
“That’s cute, boys, but your toy guns are no match for the top of the food chain~”
She sprung at the curve of firing dinos. Screams and misfires occurred. Weapons and gear clattered; wet SLURPS followed. The gulps of the fifteen-foot tall super-herbivore accompanied the receding of the circle of soldiers from the starting focal point. Soldiers were falling back; well, they were trying—but she trampled over vehicles to chase them down, slurping up as much as three dinosaurs at a time now (t-rexes, three velociraptors, carnotauruses and so forth). Her belly slung down on the asphalt and motored disgustingly as it whittled away at the trash heap of insubordinate dinos packed away in her tummy, her magmic juices boiling them down into a substance of strength and bulk and size for her body to absorb.
So fast did she break down her bellied morsels, she only managed to stuff a few dozen in her depths before the acids roiled them away to make room for the next succulent batch. A slew of belches thundered and deepened during her gradual metabolic-spurred evolution. Having eaten so many dinosaurs, she noticed the effects of their carnivorizer boons gave diminished returns, so that even after eating one hundred snacks outside, she had only grown another foot tall, hitting sixteen feet tall. Luckily for her, the street had been blocked off so well, none of her prey had an escape route, so she had plenty more to buffet on; to chase about the urban pen as a wolf chases helpless sheep.
“GURRRRGGHHHKKKK … HHOOOUUUOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUHHHP!!!! HHOOORRAAGHHHGH! BOOOOOOORRRRRMMMMMMMMMPHHHH!!!”
Uncouth burps now steadily breached her glutton’s mouth, and she was forced to trudge toward her remaining meals with her feet smothered by a writhing, deeply-purring ball-shaped stomach that weighed more than a truck. The literal tons of pounds of food punched against her innards, wailing and protesting beneath the waves of deep borborygmi and gastric mewls, only for her to burp monstrously; for the belly to slide back toward her waistline in its constant destructive mode.
The belches echoed with crude content for several blocks, while the population of the army became scarce. A couple of soldiers remained as she tramped toward them. They fled off, but she utilized some of her new power to vault high and stomp down before them, before she picked them up and stuffed her paws in her maw to suckle them down.
With the addition of these final dinosaurs to her body, the parasaur was confronted by her most monstrous transformation yet. She sighed loudly with gratitude, slumping against a building as her rotund gut ached from the ridiculous potluck of ingested food. She slid to her rump and rocked against the building facade while she plunged tubby fingers into the doughy folds of burgeoning flab, squeezing out a lazy power-belch every now and then while her metabolic process thumped her with growth across the sidewalk. She grew to utterly mammoth proportions, her calves, arms and midriff becoming giant, round and packed with the power of a small village’s population. Still Para swelled, swelled to eighteen feet tall; and as her muscle fibres groaned and extended and elongated her limbs and spine, she became deific in strength. At this point, some deities would surely fear to be challenge by her to an arm-wrestling match, and most all of them would cower at the thought of a belching match.
Why stop now? Hehehehe …
Less than an hour had passed since she had drunk the carnivorizer. If she could consume so many dinos in the time of a high school class, how many could she eat if she were given the whole rest of the day? What about after that?
“BURRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUURRRRGHHHHHHHHMMMM … Mmm … I just made some more room for the rest of the city’s carnivores, I think …”
Her hunger led her from city block to city block, where she ravaged buildings and scoured them for more food to sack in her insides. The act of eating meat became something that she couldn’t stand to avoid for more than a few minutes. Her growing fat hands robbed vehicles and bicycles and sidewalks of their meat-eating residents, all while Para swelled to bounteous new sizes with the slow creaks of her hide. She went to homes and ransacked the kitchens and living rooms not just of snacks and refrigerated food, but of the people residing in them. She left footprints of larger and larger size in her wake, and went to grocery stores, where she raided the aisles, left shopping carts empty on their sides, the wheels spinning to a stop as shoppers vanished, screeching, into her gullet. Shoppers in the veggie section were astounded and grateful to see how she strangely dodged them in her boundless feast, for they were herbivores. She had no will to purge the innocent in her metabolic chamber, whose echoes and shopper-cries now resounded eerily through the half-empty aisles.
After clearing a couple of grocery stores, apartment complexes and suburban areas, Para, who had grown to twenty-four feet tall, stomped her way to the mall. By that point, news of a hulking monster parasaur had permeated all local news outlets, and even some national ones, thanks to social media; so, many people were already fleeing to their cars in the parking lot. But Para executed a supernal speed which contradicted the bulk of her body; she had a grand deal of energy from eating fresh meals all day long, which allowed her to intercept dozens of cars and deprive them of their drivers and passengers per minute; and the speed with which she harvested people from the parking lot increased when she caught them before they reached their cars, for she could scoop up a dozen of them at once, at most, then belly both handfuls. Whenever too lazy to shake the dinos out of the cars, she would simply munch down the car and digest it for the extra iron content. This yielded metallic belches that catapulted tires and fenders into the air.
Leaving a devastated parking lot in her wake, Para moved on into the mall and gobbled up all of the shoppers who had hidden in the clothing stores and elevators. She exited the mall, snacking on a corn dog as one hand smacked her huge, tubby drum of gut, which extended three arm-spans ahead of her and sloshed with hundreds of condensed, melting bodies. She journeyed on into more residential areas of the city, making her rounds of the homes like a group of Halloween trick-or-treaters to further embellish the curvature of her tummy.
Soon, for miles the noises of her paunch could be heard—at least, by anyone who had survived her voracious onslaught of the metropolis. Each belch clapped her belly and galed spruces and douglas firs until they bent away from the wakes of sound, their trunks cracking and boughs breaking off.
However, the government of the country had brought in their best weapons to destroy Para, whom the higher-ups had officially determined was a threat to the country. Para strolled an empty downtown street, humming and patting her ever-wriggling belly as a parade of four military tanks rolled towards her.
“Goodie, I was wondering when dessert would arrive!”
Canons aimed at her. Shells mortared her, created a camouflage of smoke which billowed over hedgerows into adjacent plazas. Unphased, Para emerged from the wall of smoke and grinned at the tanks. She had grown to twenty-two feet tall, so the tanks failed to rise to her waistline. She hefted up one as it barraged her close-range with shells, but she simply exposed the cavern of her maw and yawned, sheathing the tank in the abyss. She murred and lapped over the metal vehicle, grinding it against her palate before she gulped it down. With a deep, subtle BOING her gut pushed back the second tank before she brought the vehicle to the same fate, it and the remaining two next.
She lay in an intersection moaning queasily, for the stubborn tanks didn’t want to gurgle so easily as the rest of her previous meals. Yet, the tanks had poor odds against them: Armor versus acid, and the acids grew ever stronger as they carved away at the main gun, the turret the hull and the linked road wheels. The metal flesh dissolved, and soon exposed the crew of dinos. The last impressions they would make upon this world would be from the helmets they brought into Para’s gut, for they would be hiccuped and belched onto the asphalt alongside her, along with their assault rifles.
Now, other tanks had been rolling across the city en route to that voracious herbivore, but when the forerunning driver saw the massacre, he stalled his ride, and eventually he rode over a curb and several hedgerows simply to turn his crew around, having chosen his life over honor. The rest of the drivers were influenced by this one and turned craven too, wheeling their heavy tanks around and ploughing the lawn of some park with link tracks. Their absence was no big loss for meat-eating dino-kind: This was their main excuse for not manning up at the most critical moment. Though, they gave good reason; there was one dino who could vanquish Para more surely than any of them could, and this one’s name was Brash.
Brash’s story began humbly. The dinosaur had been drafted into the army not long after his high school graduation; and they sent him overseas, where he accomplished deeds that won him a number of medals and put him on television once or thrice (depending on whether you count the local news as true TV). He rose high in the military ranks; and he had appeared to be on his way to the spot of a general, until a classified, experimental sect of the military phoned him and met him at a remote military base to present him this vague, yet exciting fantasy: Should he sign his name on a page and allow his death to be faked, he could become a “super-dino,” as he was told—though, for him to learn more, the signing had been necessary.
Sign his name he did. Of course, the name inked was not Brash, but the name of the identity he left behind when he was escorted to a desert test facility and given alchemical elixirs made by the greatest of carnivore alchemists: alchemists who would have been the most prestiged in the country—had they not been given new, secretive identities themselves!
During the experiments, the alchemists mutated him—made his height tenfold what it was. After drinking several different concoctions over the course of months, he found that his ten-foot-tall body had risen to one hundred feet tall. Any of the features that had distinguished him as a sophisticated member of society had eroded with every drink which turned the blood of his veins a super-heated magenta hue. His veins had bloated out and had pulsated more thickly along a frame which tripled in broadness. Corrosive saliva of this same magenta shade dribbled down from the mutant, desert-hided giganotosaurus’ maw, whereas his claws had grown from the proportions of knives to the proportions of swords in relation to him. His jaws had grown so huge, they could lunge out and snap up a school bus without straining their lateral pterygoid muscles whatsoever.
The footsteps of the kaiju giganotosaurus crashed upon the rumbling streets, flattening a couple of younger cedar trees and maples beneath his soles as he left his mark across a public park en route to the parasaur. She heard him coming, turned and marvelled at the size of the kaiju. She had seen monsters of such stature in movies, yet to see one in the flesh dazed her. Even though she herself stood almost as tall as a two-storey building, she only came to the knees of this gargantuan carnivore.
This did the opposite of frightening her. She thought of how, even when she was just an average-sized parasaur, she had already come to the chests of the carnivores. Truly, this colossus would be her biggest meal yet. His smell was promisingly treacly. The magenta radiation which emanated from his body gave his scent the notes of a fresh-baked scone stuffed with huckleberries and cream cheese.
So even as that boss-like behemoth crunched park benches beneath single foot-claws and stamped pool-deep trenches in the lawn, the comparatively little Para was licking her pointy upgraded chops and stepping forward to meet him halfway. Her pace at first was an amble; then it was a full-fledged rush. She galvanized enough speed to jump up, maw widening, and yawn for his muzzle.
With all the speed and accuracy of a trained war-veteran, Brash slashed claws across her midriff. Mid-air, Para yelped and ricocheted over a street into a suburban area, covering more distance than a tennis ball slammed by a racket. She skidded upon landing in a cul-de-sac, barreling over herself with hurt as the magenta glows of his claw-slashes seared through her chest scales. Into her mind snaked physical, mental, spiritual turmoil.
Ringing blared in her ears, tinnitus-like, when she impacted the front facade of a beautifully-gardened middle-class home. Dark chocolate rooftops imploded beneath male kaiju feet as her aggressor leaped off of homes to cross distance to her, before cracks adorned the cul-de-sac from his soles before her.
Just enough energy to blink open her eyes through veils of smoke, she mustered. A grip of steel snatched her body and squeezed her lungs to the point that she uttered a soft squeak like a plastic bath duckling: no more than a helpless plaything to the large kaiju-boy.
“Across sea, I killed a group of dinosaurs larger than I used to be by myself, weaponless,” breathed the giganotosaurus with his breath of rotten meat and radiation: a radiation which was carcinogenic to mere mortals, but harmless and even somewhat titillating to the parasaur’s sense. “But you? I’ve played soccer with balls your size. You’re nothing to me. And since you like eating dinosaurs so much, I have a gift for you. A karmic gift.”
Hundreds of teeth bade their counterparts of the opposite jaw farewell as he extended his great maw, galing hot, plasmic breath over her in a howl of rage and hunger. Para sensed she was endangered, and she squalled in fury and fear, writhing wildly in his iron grasp. Adrenaline unlocked all the strength of the dinos she had digested, and she weaseled free of the hand and dropped to the suburb ground. She made to flee, but the huge male dropped to a squatting position and lunged forth with his long, stretchy neck and chomped a chunk out of sidewalk, lawn and rose-bushes; and this chunk included her, a chunk that turned his cheeks to blimps of baggage until he ushered a thunderous GULP.
The loose flaps of his sinuous neck stretched taut, and the gullet bloated into a grand, falling spheroid. Brash groaned lecherously and rubbed the bulge of both objects and sentient prey. The spheroid plunged to his toned middle and swelled it with a generous roundness, the shape and size of a belly after your ordinary eater’s splurge at a buffet. Kaijus can eat much more than your ordinary eaters, for sure. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem likely that Para would learn how much more Brash could eat, for his belly hobbled to and fro, rendering gross bubbly gurgles as he blinked his eyes shut for a grotesque, excruciating belch which peeled his jowls almost to the back of his cheeks and misted the suburbs with humid, acrid spittle and buffeted the trees with ruddy green vapors for a length of four whole seconds.
Now, Para could hear Brash moaning and hiccuping. She could feel his giant paws grappling along his sloshing tummy and pinching at asphalt and fauna chunks, as well as her, as if to help his system break her into a pulp. Para simply chuckled: His arousal and content amused her, for their current relationship was more symbiotic than he knew. She gave him his most filling meal in all his kaiju-hood, and he gave her the triumph of knowing that digestive acids did absolutely moot to her scales; they had the resistance of over 250,000 carnivores: the amount of civilians she had delivered to her tummy.
But … Their symbiosis was only going to steadily break down as fate shifted in her favor. She raised a hand to his belly walls, then BREAAAAM! A muffled laser-blast made his eyes widen: Suddenly shrunken, he found himself in mid-air before he plopped on his rump, reduced from one hundred feet tall to fifty feet tall. His jaws broke apart for a groan, and he seized his gut which seemed to have doubled its size, what with his new proportions.
“Little dino, what have you done? HIC!”
Another blast of her shrink-energy reduced him to twenty-five feet tall, so his belly wobbled with much more power. Para laid punches to his innards as he coughed and reeled from the force of her blows.
“Ohhh … just takin’ you down to my size, since I’m too small for you~”
“N-no, wait—”
A blizzard-blast of chills coursed through him, and he dwindled to the size of twelve feet tall, making him the size of a rare civilian and nothing more. He groaned and clutched his dome of gut, which now dwarfed him and wracked his innards with blows his tolerance for pain couldn’t afford.
Muscle spasms wracked his middle until he found his throat flailing, his inner muscles collaborating for a gag reflex. A lump of geography and prey rolled up his craw, then he retched up half-digested road material and plant-life, along with Para, who rose beneath a veil of gastric goop and rubbed her paws together mischievously.
“Karma,” she repeated. “Abooout that …”
Half her size, the kaiju-like dwarf-dino gulped and fumbled to his feet, and he tripped over the crater of his former soles as he made to escape. But Para tailed him right behind his shadow, until the force of an exploding grenade pinned him to the ground, but instead of shrapnel his backside was covered by a huge gut: empty, yet crushing him, and seeming to growl out his name, even though Para could not have known what that name was!
The shrunken giganotosaurus launched into a volley of heel-kicks and elbowings, cursing her and all the generations of her line that came before. Yet, his skill was no match for her impenetrable hide and superior size, so she dragged him out from underneath her rumbly paunch with ease. The stubborn dino tried to yawn his maw over hers even as she pulled him toward her jaws, but she leered him with pleasure and ire and stretched her jaws wider than he could, then stuffed him down her esophagus. The circumferential conveyor belt of slimy muscles gripped him down as she hissed from her nose in euphoria, tongue lapping over his crispy scales and sugary, fruity radiation.
Unstoppable gulps planted him in the pit of her paunch, where Brash broke into a fit of distress and combated her belly walls with all his fleeting strength. Yet, a tendril of fire would have done more harm against the ocean. His impacts of his fists gyrated the slick belly walls and roused greater grumbles of her gut; and their effects on the environment only became more drastic and pleasurable to Para when suddenly he expanded back to twenty-five feet tall, then fifty feet tall, then one hundred feet tall.
Fences of homes splintered and planked underneath Para’s belly, which had suddenly acquired the size of a curled-up kaiju. “Grraaagh … nnngh … gurgle down for me, you big hunk, you …” Her massive hill of sunny-scaled tummy emanated such a metabolic heat, she panted while she nuzzled into the uncomfortably warm, fluctuating folds of pillowy dino flesh. A voice quadruple the size of her own pleaded and begged, muffled by the indestructible walls while the sweltering, sloshing tummy chamber reduced the dino to his most core elements: How fast did the bubbly golden brew change his scales into a molten desert-hued ooze from their constant splashes-against; how fast did he melt like ice cream forgotten in a bowl on some tropical beach!
The traits of the lower half of his body merged as this goopy cataract of gurgled sludge, and a webby maw pushed into the belly-bulge facing Para to utter one last swear: “CURSE YOU, PRBRBRBRSSRRRGGLLL!”
Even as he issued his last breath, the shapes of arms collapsed and receded from the gut’s rotund curve, and the head imitated a heap of dough more and more until the whole pitiful dino slouched with gargles into the pool that was halfly himself, a pool of putty and acid.
The pleasure of digesting him, of her body kickstarting its absorption of his size and power, came to her as the first glimpse of sun comes to someone who has dwelled in a cave lifelong. Her stomach jiggled in sporadic thunder-claps, the claps relentless, one after the other; and each clap simultaneously shrunk that rotund midriff and speared her up a size. Her shadow dawned on a home before her backside decimated it. The parasaur grew to one hundred and ten feet tall: so large, the homes around her looked like dollhouses, the street like a too-small carpet for a divinity such as herself to walk upon …
Two years later, society has been wholly revamped in favor of the herbivores. That place that was once called Carnivorizer Headquarters has been renamed Herbivorizer Headquarters, for all the leaf-eaters of the world are christened there, so that their kind averages a height of nine feet tall. Ninety-five percent of the world’s carnivores have finally been caught and removed from their blessings, so that the leaf-eaters look down upon most of them—and, from time to time, even eat them.
Herbivores and carnivores alike worship Para, where she resides at a royal colosseum that was wrought next to Herbivorizer H.Q: the leaf-eaters because they love her for blessing them with reparations; the meat-eaters because they have no choice.
Will the meat-eaters ever repay their debt, and have their blessings returned to them, that they may be equal amongst the herbivores? Only time will tell. Time, and the quality of their worship and sacrifices to their new parasaur overlord.
Read the sequel here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/33626935/
Borusa-RyalamPara (C) Borusa
The Herbivorizer
1Long before herbivores and carnivores all across the world know Para’s name, the parasaur attends a field trip. She and her third-grade classmates visit Carnivorizer Headquarters, a building whose sacredness is rivalled only by the religious texts of meat-eaters which licensed its construction. Once their teacher, Ms. Quinn the t-rex, walks them into the lobby, a velociraptor of the Carnivorizer company greets them and guides them through the main floor before escorting them on an elevator to a few other attractive floors visitable by tourists.
Inevitably comes the display all the dinosaur kids have been waiting for: the carnivorizing.
A scrawny, six-foot-tall dilophosaurus from a foreign country (where there’s no such thing as carnivorizer, bless their poor hearts) receives the alchemical elixir called carnivorizer from an employee. Unlike all the first-world carnivores, this sorry ’saurus was never christened with the drink at birth. He cries out some thankful gibberish when it comes to his hands, then he chugs it till the glowing bloodred runneth over and drenches his long, sinewy striped neck.
The dino children watch with dreamy eyes. The last drop of carnivorizer slides down his tongue. His build—which hardly trumps the malnourished builds of herbivores in terms of muscle, breadth and scale density—is transformed at a speed which shouldn’t be possible because of the slow rate of his metabolism. His pecs and biceps enlarge, as though the blood of some demigod was spilt on them and absorbed by them. A roar of rapture matures halfway through its release, deepening as light fixtures buzz and his head swings higher. His shoulders and hips grow rounder, wider, stronger and bulkier, and his three-clawed toes expand along the floor. He crests at nine feet tall.
The baptism of another highblood is complete. Another carnivore climbs to his birthright position atop the social hierarchy, a place where herbivores are unbelonging …
2“Today, let’s have a chat about something fun, shall we?”
As soon as Ms. Quinn says this, Para doubts a fun conversation is on the way. Nevertheless, the class of thirty eats it right up, and erupts into cheers from their desks.
“The subject for today is: careers! What would we all like to be when we grow up?”
Para has been daydreaming in class all since last Friday when they did the field trip. Her hand jumps up like a threatened fish from a river.
“Alright then, Para. Tell the class what you’d like to be and why.”
“I’m gonna be an alchemist, like the dinos at Carnivorizer H.Q. That way, I can make the carnivorizer, and sip it, too. Then I’ll give batches out to all the herbivores, my friends first, then all the other plant-eaters. That way, everyone will be equal, and stuff like sports will be fairer.”
One of the big douchebag t-rex kids in back snorts bubble gum out of his nose, then bawls with laughter. Other carnivores laugh, though some look more unsettled, and the herbivores look with rings of horror around their eyes at Para, as though she has swigged a liter of arsenic.
The next thing Para knows, a paddle smacks her across the face, and she lies beside her seat on the fuzzy choo-choo train mat, sobbing.
“SILENCE!”
The roar ceases all laughter—even pales the carnivores to the previous complexion of the herbivores. Now, some of the herbivores are clinging to each other or hiding under the desks.
“Alright, you little smart aleck: That’s three days of suspension for you. Bet you feel real clever now, don’t you? So clever, I’m calling your mummy so she can pick you up, take you home and spank you properly.” The teacher dials Para’s parents; screams across the landline for a couple minutes; smashes the phone onto the receiver. “While you’re away, you can write your carnivore classmates and I a sorry note for tongueing off about the order of things. I told your mum to learn you again about why herbivores mustn't think of carnivorizer. Pray you pay attention to her this time! Oh, and herbivores make for horrid alchemists. I say this to save you some trouble in the future, Para: Don’t you bother with alchemy. Become a florist if you’re an overachiever; else, work as a lunch-lady or something.”
3We as a society have come a long way: Haven’t we, Miss Quinn?
Para—now middling her twenties—smiled. She leaned against a street pole on the sidewalk across from Carnivorizer Headquarters. She had grown several feet taller since third grade; was six feet tall, now. The scales of her great-bellied underside had an eggnog color, the scales of her face, limbs and tail-flanks a biscotti color, her back scales and snout-tip a seagreen. Hanging from one shoulder was a leather purse. Alchemical reagents and elixirs bloated its sides.
The times have changed. I wonder if you’ve changed any …
She thought of Miss Quinn, of how the stigma against herbivores being alchemists had died off, somewhat, since the 90s. Teachers across the country could no longer paddle or lash herbivorous children for entertaining heretical ideas. Para reckoned the punishment was still suspension, though. And of course young herbivores wanting to be innocent alchemists, who never thought of carnivorizer, was frowned upon too, but newer state laws kept kids away from the school nurse for teacher-related injuries.
Somewhere out there, thousands—maybe tens, maybe hundreds of thousands—of little herbivores are thinking the same things I used to. She didn’t deny the unoriginality of wanting to be equal with carnivores. She just denied the originality of actually making a change by dismantling the hierarchy from the inside-out. Today, she would do just that.
But, she had suffered so many years of bullying and discrimination that she didn’t care much for equality, these days. Once I’m done here … the meat-eaters will know what it’s like to be beneath us … She slipped into an alley. She chugged down an elixir. An illusion happened, vomiting rainbow colors over the brick walls briefly, portraying her as one of the chief employees of Carnivorizer.
This should last her ten minutes.
Appearing to be three feet taller and 100% more steak-hungry, Para hid her alchemy purse behind a dumpster, then crossed the street. She pushed through the revolving doors of the H.Q. A metal detector slid its magnetic rays over her while security guards checked her employee ID. She prayed that the employee she ate earlier for the DNA-regent of an alchemical mixture had valid ID.
Guards nodded. She grinned. The last chunks of her raptor meal were making her belly grumble like a meat-eater’s. Although this was an unnecessary enhancement to her disguise (for she was already cleared), she made a point of clapping her gut and saying loudly, “I could really use a burger about now!” as she passed through the lobby, turning a few puzzled expressions her way.
She felt pretty clever. There were published reports of dozens of carnivores who had used their alchemy to breach security: to try and steal carnivorizer so that they could sell it to foreign countries. Because so many break-ins had been done before, alchemy detectors had been installed in the metal detectors. Para had come here with the hope that the detector-engineers never bothered to test the detector on herbivores, due to the common knowledge being that herbivores would never be sold incriminating potions, nor would they ever have the intelligence to create one of their own.
She couldn’t help but chuckle in relief, speeding up as she camouflaged herself in the crowds. She got into an elevator, and thought it funny how casual everyone else looked while she trembled, filled to the brim with exhilaration.
Everything felt surreal and theatrical.
A dozen sharp-toothed dinos got off on the thirtieth floor, including her. But she abandoned the mob, sliding into a darker corridor, making a couple of turns before she slid her ID card through a door she had only seen before on classified documents. The door slid shut behind her, and left her in a laboratory where she found the recipe for creating carnivorizer after a few minutes of scouring a file compartment, at which point her illusion transformation wore off and returned her appearance to that of a parasaur.
She chuckled darkly, reading the ingredients. She glanced up at the document and gazed at all the exotic reagents on the shelves. Not only could she produce her own carnivorizer: She could add a few ingredients she had never been able to afford before. The tweaks to the recipe would make her the top of the food chain.
She laid out some regents on a countertop, then mixed reagents together in a couple of beakers then mixed the contents of those beakers together, concocting her own experimental version of the carnivorizer. The bloodred juice glowed vibrantly and bubbled, and she drank a full beaker.
A security guard had seen camera footage of someone walking into the laboratory without clearance, so they had run across the headquarters to check on the lab. The door slid open, and nine-foot-tall utahraptor nearly coughed up his oatmeal at what he saw. A broadening, swelling parasaur’s tail swatted a countertop, shattering beakers as the parasaur groaned and outgrew their former self.
Before the transformation, Para had eaten plenty of protein-rich plants in her adult life (as if to rebel against the lithe stereotype of an herbivore), so she already had brawn and girth which made her incompatible with doorways of your average herbivore’s home. Her round, beefy biceps and thickset tail engendered aspects of a squat figure even though she was taller than average for most herbivores. In her early twenties, she had pushed a broken-down truck a couple blocks to the repair shop, and she had perspired little from the strain of the activity.
Now, she grew even beefier and bulkier. The carnivorizer amplified the traits she had nurtured from a protein-rich diet, widening her pecs and rotund stomach, enlarging the muscles of her limbs and sculpting them with iron-firm striations. Her legs formed a wider arch, feet stomping down harder as bones crunched and swelled and muscle tissue made sounds that correlated in the utahraptor’s mind with sin itself.
*CRRNNNNCCCCH!*
“URRGH-AAAH~!”
Para peaked at nine feet tall, matching the utahraptor’s height. But when she flexed her overgrown stocky arms out at angles and accentuated her girth, the utahraptor, despite his weightlifter’s build, made him look comparatively like a nerd who often gets stuffed in lockers. He screamed and snatched a stun-laser off his security waist-belt. A laser bolt squealed out of the weapon and ricocheted off the bongo-dwarfing drum that was her belly, the belly swinging and jiggling all about as the redirected shot exploded smokily on a wall behind the guard.
“Heh, that tickles, nerd~”
“Paws in the air, h-herbivore! Don’t move another muscle, or it w-won’t be your belly I aim for!”
With pleasure, Para thought.
Both paws she put up in the air—and aimed them at the utahraptor. Testing out one little tweak she had made to the carnivorizer, she launched one magenta bolt from one palm and one from the other. Bolt one seared his weapon-holding hand and sent the gun sizzling to the shut sliding door, the gun shrinking to the size of a child’s toy. Before he could fully swing around to face the thrown-aside weapon, there rolled over his prehistoric scales a feeling of meteoric heat which became ice-age cold just as suddenly as it came. He squealed—voice losing its bully’s burliness and becoming light, brittle and fretful—and fell near his gun.
The coffee in someone’s styrofoam cup splashed up and smeared their hand with hot Arabic-black as they ambled by the sealed laboratory: The enlarged herbivore had taken her first stomp toward her weaponless snack, though this someone—an allosaurus—had no means of knowing that. But the thud magnified the allosaurus’ horrific imagination of the happenings of the room (it was said that experiments were conducted on people there); and he went jogging off with a pang of fear that a monster had just awakened, fretting so much on his way around the corner that he became numb to the coffee burns on his paw.
Para lifted the scrawny twerp by the spiny nape of his theropod neck. The avian–fore limbed dinosaur screeched with pathetic lunges for the door, but his cries cut off when the pred slurped across his chitinous, feathery snout, drenching him in her slobber that smelled of artichokes, asparagus and brussel sprouts.
He groaned in disgust, marked by the sticky reek of her rotten, plant-based diet. She—however—felt the feeling of addiction bubble up in her: It was a witch’s cauldron into which this utahraptor’s flavor had dropped a reactive ingredient. Never in her life had she cared to consume raw meat; the blandness and lack of freshness had never appealed to her taste buds. But today she had consumed her first dinosaur, and her appetite for fresh meat was flowering—a fatal fact for the raptor, whose hide may have been densified by his carnivorizer christening at birth, but not dense enough to withstand the caustic juices of an upgraded, herb-breathed hunter.
Swivelling her ruddy white–faced meal to face her maw, she went NOMPH!
Even muffled, his survival-banter threw harsh, metallic echoes across the room, the sound erecting her gooseflesh. Her eyes snapped open as the spicy, gamey teriyaki chicken taste of the dino enraptured her. Only once before had her jaws been forced to distend to such a breadth that they crackled from the strain, and she loved the jerking, squirming pressure. The thrill drugged her. She could compare it with her first time of trying ’shrooms back in summer of ‘16—this was a high during which she was more sober, though: a high that made dominating and eating greedily feel more and more natural.
Grabbing his waist, she raised him to angle him like a saxophone, then stuffed his neck of dusty-russet scales down her stump of throat. She swallowed and swallowed. The rising difficulty with which she breathed became an exhilarating drive for her. Her throat-flesh pleasurably heaved outward and neck ballooned, the scales creaking in a ripple of motion that soon pushed her domes-for-pecs out. Hot, earthy breath washed over the carnivore with each GUAP of circumferential muscle around his shoulders. Drool soaked his descending wing-arms next.
Her ravenous jaws flexed and flexed with a lethargic smile, as if she were whittling away at one great bamboo stick. Drumbeats of his struggle thumped and jiggled her pectorals. Grunting in euphoria, she bunched her claws around the bulge falling under that busty chest, feeling the skimpy boy wrestle through her sloshing innards with riveting headbutts and punches.
GLUARP, GURRP, SGUP!
Bloated into a breathtaking sack of flesh, her throat jounced as the utahraptor elbowed and pelvic thrusted against the thick, sloshing, stretching boundaries of pink. Para clapped her bongo of belly, which groaned in anticipation for the food which hung just above. Time to put you where you belong, meat-head!
GULLLLLP!
The ovular scales of her great, rotund pot belly each swelled about an inch in size from their previous egg-like length and width, and her belly pushed so far ahead of her that not even her tail-tip could touch where the gravid dome burgeoned out the farthest. “Ohhh …” Food coma slumped her against the countertop where glass glistened from broken beakers. She didn’t even need to stand; her belly beached against the ground, grumbling out snarls, dealing gaseous blows to the curve of her gut, becoming more and more unsettled as the utahraptor attempted to liberate himself from her internal parasaur walls. Back when she was six feet tall and lacked the fortification of the carnivorizer, the attacks of a meal had ached her belly and left her hiccuping out burps in an unpleasant nausea; but now, a carnivore’s fuss was laughably harmless to her innards and wholly a deep, lovable massage.
“BUWWWEEEEEEEEAAAAARRRRRRPPPPPHP!! Egads … that feels great~ Keep it up, pipsqueak—GUAAAAAARHHGHP! Mmmgh, I can hardly hear myself over the g—guuUUUuuuurrrrrghhk—the gurgles you’re making … You’ll be promoted to herbivore bulk in no time …”
“There are cameras everywhere!” whined the utahraptor, whose bird-like features were already melting and getting dribbly, so that he looked like a mass of yolk diffusing into her stomach juices. “Before you make it more than a few steps through the hall, you’ll be surrounded. They’ll find you—imprison you for life—”
“URRRREEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWGH!!!”
The words “eh?” and “yawn” were seemingly combined in a belch that mountainous roared through the floor, along with the floor above and below. It could have been mistaken for the wrath of some t-rex supervisor.
“Good …” Para answered, a dreamy tone in her voice. “Let them come. Let them find me … Let them see the powerhouse that I’m becoming …”
Now, the utahraptor opened his mouth to ask what powerhouse that might have been, but a “Gnnngh~!” followed, and the stomach muscles squeezed down on him tight. He bellowed, “Nooooo!” and her belly spasmed and shook with more vigor than ever; simultaneously, it shrank and churned faster than ever, for the contracting walls kneaded the dino into a goopy pulp who was tossed over himself again, again … She squished her tummy between her palms, saying, “Time to melt, nerd~!” and groaned out as her squelchy croaks gyred through her midriff.
Para had tweaked the carnivorizer for extra fun: She now had the skill to inherit the carnivorizer boon of any dinosaur she ate and digested, so after she gurgled away this guy, his carnivorizer effects would stack onto hers to turn her into an even huger, stronger, sturdier juggernaut.
Bubbly jet sensations shot through her body in pulses, and with each pulse she grew bigger. Her hips gyred as if she were hula-hooping as they burgeoned bigger and her body towered higher in blissful hiccups of growth. Her belly only shrank minutely: It acidically eliminated the bulges of theropod while it sponged some of the theropod’s mass into its beautiful, plump curve, making permanent the gut’s current bigness instead of a product of the gut housing prey.
A grunt launched out of her elongating parasaur jaws, whose teeth grew sharper and longer, as if evolving for the purpose of gobbling down inferior carnivores. Her shoulders rolled wider, and the dispersing essence of her digested prey muscled out her limbs further. The luster of her roundening biceps, forearms and thighs intensified while the ovular scales expanded to be as large as the phones of headphones. She harrumphed with bliss, stomping about during the paroxysms of her growth, and her head thunked against the ceiling of the short room when she reared up to twelve feet tall.
Gloriously, Para stood taller than almost every dinosaur in the pro basketball leagues, and she far exceeded those gangly athletes in wideness and strength. The power she could feel coursing through her arms, legs and tail intoxicated her; and she could hear her great, husky back muscles rippling with the lightest of her heavy exhales.
Although she had outgrown the door of the room by about a foot, she didn’t contemplate walking out through it. She grinned, thrust back an elbow then slammed giant knuckles at the door. A solid, round chunk of architecture that included the door and the wall rimming it exploded forward, skidded a few yards then rolled on its rim to a halt like a sewer lid. She had scared back a gang of five security guards—verdant allosauruses of lime-ivory belly hides whose heads wore tough crimson frills atop the temples and brows.
“Well well well,” rumbled the deep, powerful parasaur voice from the maw of the figure which lumbered through the smoky debris of the fist-made threshold. “If it isn’t more FODDER for my tummy~ So glad that you could come~”
“Plug her, boys!” one of the allosauruses bawled, after which he and the other four raised laser rifles, took aim and started drumming themselves with the recoil from thunders of laser fire. These were weapons of the highest grade: None were authorized to use them, unless there was an attempt by someone to smuggle carnivorizer or steal high-end valuables from the company. One mere blast could put a hulking king of the jungle to bed, yet more than half a dozen shots drummed her gut and muscled form over a few seconds, and they did little more than stun her. If she hadn’t eaten the utahraptor, two shots would have nailed her to her back.
Para chuckled darkly, her figure even more sinister amidst the smoke of the failing laser-fire. Already, her scales had become so dense and impenetrable; her resilience could be paired against that of a tank.
The parasaur bolted at the frontrunner while he was reloading. From the pallid, geeky-looking lout there came a string of cries like a withheld sneeze: They rose steadily in pitch, but nothing climactic ever came from him before the herbal-smelling lips squelched over his torso and slurped him into those strong, enlarged parasaur depths. The length of the throat, which had been enlarged along with Para, gripped him with uncomfortably powerful lubricated muscles. His confines boasted ample space between the contractions, during which they gripped him with all the firmness of a war veteran’s handshake.
The other four employees scattered, such as billiard balls, when struck by the white ball that was the terrible sight of their carnivore comrade being munched down. With a GULP, she bellied him as easy as her quadruped ancestors might have gulped ferns and shrubs. Waves of a water cooler lashed against its plastic confines as guns flew into the air at the end of the hall; and behind the abandoned weapons, the employees scurried around the corner for the elevator, and one of them mashed the down button perhaps a hundred times in five seconds. A wily snigger accompanied a slow champion’s thunder of footsteps as her shadow swelled over the door and the dead-ended quartet of dinosaurs.
One tried to run under her legs, but her mighty tail—an appendage that may have weighed more than him entire—lashed toward her thighs at the base, swatting him into the other guards, which she presently “dug into.” Riders on the elevator heard harsh, distorted gurgles and swallow noises which rose in volume as they rose to the floor before the final stop: a stop which now brought them to dropping their suitcases, clinging to each other and bawling out.
An innocent DING pried the elevator doors apart; and upon the floor (whose patterning resembled that of an elderly dinosaur’s favorite sweater) stood a parasaur licking her claws, groaning in pleasure and groping under her ginormous, round gut. Although, the elevator passengers could only view the dome of gut which pushed through the elevator threshold, for she had just polished off all five of the delicious meat-eaters.
“GRRUUUUHHHHHGGHHHHHHHHRRRRHHHPPPPPP! Rhhmm …” Sucking sounds came from her cleaning the flavor of barbecue and prehistoric burgers off of her paws. Burbles echoed into the elevator from her massive, fluctuating stomach, while all the passengers backed to the back of the car; some of them were swooning. “Nnnuaagh … buuuaarrhhp … That was some finger-lickin’ guuUUEEEAAHHGGGHK good staff … I wonder what sort of food awaits me ahead of my tummy? Hmm-hmm-hm~”
One of the passengers ran toward the stomach just to punch another floor on the control panel. The elevator dinged, and the doors made an honest move to close, but the bottomless belly wedged the doors open, scaly wrinkles forming on the gut’s doughy flanks where the doors squeezed. Then, instead of closing, the doors were heaved open in pulses as the stomach convulsively grew … Or was it shrinking? The visual effect of a dolly zoom was generated as the stomach deflated from metabolising its prisoners with a frightful storm of borborygmi, while the stomach’s owner grew bigger at the same time.
“Nnnnnghh … BWWWAAAAAAAAWWWWWPPHHHH!! Going somewhere? I don’t think so, tiny dinies~” Para’s growth anchored her voice down more and more, the tone becoming so deep that the ignition of her speech felt like a great barbell being dropped. No voice anyone in the elevator had ever heard had ever been so taut or tremulous.
Narrowing her eyes, Para knew that she would need to unlodge her tummy before she could reach inside of the snack box and placate her growing case of the munchies again. Cracks skated away from the elevator door frame as she clasped her gut, gritting her teeth as she enlarged again; as her shoulders and hips parted another several feet across; as the beef of her husky frame inflated and the rotund muscles began engulfing each other, deep striations swamping her tonnage. Her tail, feet and muzzle evolved to mutant proportions. She grew to fifteen feet tall as she hauled her gut free from the seemingly shrinking threshold, and the threshold crumbled into chunks as she went bowling over herself through the hall.
Gasps of relief slipped through the elevator as the doors slid shut, and the car travelled away from the floor via the shaft. Para rose and dusted herself off, simmering hot air from her nose. So a few runts got away from my gut—meager loss, thought Para. You know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna stuff my mouth with even more than what got away from me~
The parasaur—whose head now nearly grazed the roof and flanks threatened to be caught between the sides of the hall—swung around, then burst with speed for a windowed wall that lay at the end of a room of cubicles. Employees ducked under the cubicles as Para vaulted through the window. Sunlight refracted brilliantly on glass shards a dozen storeys above the street. Para landed amongst a shower of glass, her foot-paws smashing the roof of a muscle car into a hammock shape. Around her an army of five hundred government soldiers gawked: They had surrounded Carnivorizer H.Q.’s entranceway, expecting her to come out the front.
One time-waster atop a military tank yelled into a megaphone: This must have been a warning, but what exactly was said makes no difference, for she clearly paid no mind to it. Soldiers encircled her, having taken positions to fire at her from ten-plus yards away on a blocked off street. These rounds were of a grade which could penetrate bulletproof glass and puncture armored vehicles. They flattened against her jiggling pecs and belly scales; and even louder than the cacophony of bullets was the slow, rising roar of hunger from her stomach …
“That’s cute, boys, but your toy guns are no match for the top of the food chain~”
She sprung at the curve of firing dinos. Screams and misfires occurred. Weapons and gear clattered; wet SLURPS followed. The gulps of the fifteen-foot tall super-herbivore accompanied the receding of the circle of soldiers from the starting focal point. Soldiers were falling back; well, they were trying—but she trampled over vehicles to chase them down, slurping up as much as three dinosaurs at a time now (t-rexes, three velociraptors, carnotauruses and so forth). Her belly slung down on the asphalt and motored disgustingly as it whittled away at the trash heap of insubordinate dinos packed away in her tummy, her magmic juices boiling them down into a substance of strength and bulk and size for her body to absorb.
So fast did she break down her bellied morsels, she only managed to stuff a few dozen in her depths before the acids roiled them away to make room for the next succulent batch. A slew of belches thundered and deepened during her gradual metabolic-spurred evolution. Having eaten so many dinosaurs, she noticed the effects of their carnivorizer boons gave diminished returns, so that even after eating one hundred snacks outside, she had only grown another foot tall, hitting sixteen feet tall. Luckily for her, the street had been blocked off so well, none of her prey had an escape route, so she had plenty more to buffet on; to chase about the urban pen as a wolf chases helpless sheep.
“GURRRRGGHHHKKKK … HHOOOUUUOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUHHHP!!!! HHOOORRAAGHHHGH! BOOOOOOORRRRRMMMMMMMMMPHHHH!!!”
Uncouth burps now steadily breached her glutton’s mouth, and she was forced to trudge toward her remaining meals with her feet smothered by a writhing, deeply-purring ball-shaped stomach that weighed more than a truck. The literal tons of pounds of food punched against her innards, wailing and protesting beneath the waves of deep borborygmi and gastric mewls, only for her to burp monstrously; for the belly to slide back toward her waistline in its constant destructive mode.
The belches echoed with crude content for several blocks, while the population of the army became scarce. A couple of soldiers remained as she tramped toward them. They fled off, but she utilized some of her new power to vault high and stomp down before them, before she picked them up and stuffed her paws in her maw to suckle them down.
With the addition of these final dinosaurs to her body, the parasaur was confronted by her most monstrous transformation yet. She sighed loudly with gratitude, slumping against a building as her rotund gut ached from the ridiculous potluck of ingested food. She slid to her rump and rocked against the building facade while she plunged tubby fingers into the doughy folds of burgeoning flab, squeezing out a lazy power-belch every now and then while her metabolic process thumped her with growth across the sidewalk. She grew to utterly mammoth proportions, her calves, arms and midriff becoming giant, round and packed with the power of a small village’s population. Still Para swelled, swelled to eighteen feet tall; and as her muscle fibres groaned and extended and elongated her limbs and spine, she became deific in strength. At this point, some deities would surely fear to be challenge by her to an arm-wrestling match, and most all of them would cower at the thought of a belching match.
Why stop now? Hehehehe …
Less than an hour had passed since she had drunk the carnivorizer. If she could consume so many dinos in the time of a high school class, how many could she eat if she were given the whole rest of the day? What about after that?
“BURRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUURRRRGHHHHHHHHMMMM … Mmm … I just made some more room for the rest of the city’s carnivores, I think …”
Her hunger led her from city block to city block, where she ravaged buildings and scoured them for more food to sack in her insides. The act of eating meat became something that she couldn’t stand to avoid for more than a few minutes. Her growing fat hands robbed vehicles and bicycles and sidewalks of their meat-eating residents, all while Para swelled to bounteous new sizes with the slow creaks of her hide. She went to homes and ransacked the kitchens and living rooms not just of snacks and refrigerated food, but of the people residing in them. She left footprints of larger and larger size in her wake, and went to grocery stores, where she raided the aisles, left shopping carts empty on their sides, the wheels spinning to a stop as shoppers vanished, screeching, into her gullet. Shoppers in the veggie section were astounded and grateful to see how she strangely dodged them in her boundless feast, for they were herbivores. She had no will to purge the innocent in her metabolic chamber, whose echoes and shopper-cries now resounded eerily through the half-empty aisles.
After clearing a couple of grocery stores, apartment complexes and suburban areas, Para, who had grown to twenty-four feet tall, stomped her way to the mall. By that point, news of a hulking monster parasaur had permeated all local news outlets, and even some national ones, thanks to social media; so, many people were already fleeing to their cars in the parking lot. But Para executed a supernal speed which contradicted the bulk of her body; she had a grand deal of energy from eating fresh meals all day long, which allowed her to intercept dozens of cars and deprive them of their drivers and passengers per minute; and the speed with which she harvested people from the parking lot increased when she caught them before they reached their cars, for she could scoop up a dozen of them at once, at most, then belly both handfuls. Whenever too lazy to shake the dinos out of the cars, she would simply munch down the car and digest it for the extra iron content. This yielded metallic belches that catapulted tires and fenders into the air.
Leaving a devastated parking lot in her wake, Para moved on into the mall and gobbled up all of the shoppers who had hidden in the clothing stores and elevators. She exited the mall, snacking on a corn dog as one hand smacked her huge, tubby drum of gut, which extended three arm-spans ahead of her and sloshed with hundreds of condensed, melting bodies. She journeyed on into more residential areas of the city, making her rounds of the homes like a group of Halloween trick-or-treaters to further embellish the curvature of her tummy.
Soon, for miles the noises of her paunch could be heard—at least, by anyone who had survived her voracious onslaught of the metropolis. Each belch clapped her belly and galed spruces and douglas firs until they bent away from the wakes of sound, their trunks cracking and boughs breaking off.
However, the government of the country had brought in their best weapons to destroy Para, whom the higher-ups had officially determined was a threat to the country. Para strolled an empty downtown street, humming and patting her ever-wriggling belly as a parade of four military tanks rolled towards her.
“Goodie, I was wondering when dessert would arrive!”
Canons aimed at her. Shells mortared her, created a camouflage of smoke which billowed over hedgerows into adjacent plazas. Unphased, Para emerged from the wall of smoke and grinned at the tanks. She had grown to twenty-two feet tall, so the tanks failed to rise to her waistline. She hefted up one as it barraged her close-range with shells, but she simply exposed the cavern of her maw and yawned, sheathing the tank in the abyss. She murred and lapped over the metal vehicle, grinding it against her palate before she gulped it down. With a deep, subtle BOING her gut pushed back the second tank before she brought the vehicle to the same fate, it and the remaining two next.
She lay in an intersection moaning queasily, for the stubborn tanks didn’t want to gurgle so easily as the rest of her previous meals. Yet, the tanks had poor odds against them: Armor versus acid, and the acids grew ever stronger as they carved away at the main gun, the turret the hull and the linked road wheels. The metal flesh dissolved, and soon exposed the crew of dinos. The last impressions they would make upon this world would be from the helmets they brought into Para’s gut, for they would be hiccuped and belched onto the asphalt alongside her, along with their assault rifles.
Now, other tanks had been rolling across the city en route to that voracious herbivore, but when the forerunning driver saw the massacre, he stalled his ride, and eventually he rode over a curb and several hedgerows simply to turn his crew around, having chosen his life over honor. The rest of the drivers were influenced by this one and turned craven too, wheeling their heavy tanks around and ploughing the lawn of some park with link tracks. Their absence was no big loss for meat-eating dino-kind: This was their main excuse for not manning up at the most critical moment. Though, they gave good reason; there was one dino who could vanquish Para more surely than any of them could, and this one’s name was Brash.
Brash’s story began humbly. The dinosaur had been drafted into the army not long after his high school graduation; and they sent him overseas, where he accomplished deeds that won him a number of medals and put him on television once or thrice (depending on whether you count the local news as true TV). He rose high in the military ranks; and he had appeared to be on his way to the spot of a general, until a classified, experimental sect of the military phoned him and met him at a remote military base to present him this vague, yet exciting fantasy: Should he sign his name on a page and allow his death to be faked, he could become a “super-dino,” as he was told—though, for him to learn more, the signing had been necessary.
Sign his name he did. Of course, the name inked was not Brash, but the name of the identity he left behind when he was escorted to a desert test facility and given alchemical elixirs made by the greatest of carnivore alchemists: alchemists who would have been the most prestiged in the country—had they not been given new, secretive identities themselves!
During the experiments, the alchemists mutated him—made his height tenfold what it was. After drinking several different concoctions over the course of months, he found that his ten-foot-tall body had risen to one hundred feet tall. Any of the features that had distinguished him as a sophisticated member of society had eroded with every drink which turned the blood of his veins a super-heated magenta hue. His veins had bloated out and had pulsated more thickly along a frame which tripled in broadness. Corrosive saliva of this same magenta shade dribbled down from the mutant, desert-hided giganotosaurus’ maw, whereas his claws had grown from the proportions of knives to the proportions of swords in relation to him. His jaws had grown so huge, they could lunge out and snap up a school bus without straining their lateral pterygoid muscles whatsoever.
The footsteps of the kaiju giganotosaurus crashed upon the rumbling streets, flattening a couple of younger cedar trees and maples beneath his soles as he left his mark across a public park en route to the parasaur. She heard him coming, turned and marvelled at the size of the kaiju. She had seen monsters of such stature in movies, yet to see one in the flesh dazed her. Even though she herself stood almost as tall as a two-storey building, she only came to the knees of this gargantuan carnivore.
This did the opposite of frightening her. She thought of how, even when she was just an average-sized parasaur, she had already come to the chests of the carnivores. Truly, this colossus would be her biggest meal yet. His smell was promisingly treacly. The magenta radiation which emanated from his body gave his scent the notes of a fresh-baked scone stuffed with huckleberries and cream cheese.
So even as that boss-like behemoth crunched park benches beneath single foot-claws and stamped pool-deep trenches in the lawn, the comparatively little Para was licking her pointy upgraded chops and stepping forward to meet him halfway. Her pace at first was an amble; then it was a full-fledged rush. She galvanized enough speed to jump up, maw widening, and yawn for his muzzle.
With all the speed and accuracy of a trained war-veteran, Brash slashed claws across her midriff. Mid-air, Para yelped and ricocheted over a street into a suburban area, covering more distance than a tennis ball slammed by a racket. She skidded upon landing in a cul-de-sac, barreling over herself with hurt as the magenta glows of his claw-slashes seared through her chest scales. Into her mind snaked physical, mental, spiritual turmoil.
Ringing blared in her ears, tinnitus-like, when she impacted the front facade of a beautifully-gardened middle-class home. Dark chocolate rooftops imploded beneath male kaiju feet as her aggressor leaped off of homes to cross distance to her, before cracks adorned the cul-de-sac from his soles before her.
Just enough energy to blink open her eyes through veils of smoke, she mustered. A grip of steel snatched her body and squeezed her lungs to the point that she uttered a soft squeak like a plastic bath duckling: no more than a helpless plaything to the large kaiju-boy.
“Across sea, I killed a group of dinosaurs larger than I used to be by myself, weaponless,” breathed the giganotosaurus with his breath of rotten meat and radiation: a radiation which was carcinogenic to mere mortals, but harmless and even somewhat titillating to the parasaur’s sense. “But you? I’ve played soccer with balls your size. You’re nothing to me. And since you like eating dinosaurs so much, I have a gift for you. A karmic gift.”
Hundreds of teeth bade their counterparts of the opposite jaw farewell as he extended his great maw, galing hot, plasmic breath over her in a howl of rage and hunger. Para sensed she was endangered, and she squalled in fury and fear, writhing wildly in his iron grasp. Adrenaline unlocked all the strength of the dinos she had digested, and she weaseled free of the hand and dropped to the suburb ground. She made to flee, but the huge male dropped to a squatting position and lunged forth with his long, stretchy neck and chomped a chunk out of sidewalk, lawn and rose-bushes; and this chunk included her, a chunk that turned his cheeks to blimps of baggage until he ushered a thunderous GULP.
The loose flaps of his sinuous neck stretched taut, and the gullet bloated into a grand, falling spheroid. Brash groaned lecherously and rubbed the bulge of both objects and sentient prey. The spheroid plunged to his toned middle and swelled it with a generous roundness, the shape and size of a belly after your ordinary eater’s splurge at a buffet. Kaijus can eat much more than your ordinary eaters, for sure. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem likely that Para would learn how much more Brash could eat, for his belly hobbled to and fro, rendering gross bubbly gurgles as he blinked his eyes shut for a grotesque, excruciating belch which peeled his jowls almost to the back of his cheeks and misted the suburbs with humid, acrid spittle and buffeted the trees with ruddy green vapors for a length of four whole seconds.
Now, Para could hear Brash moaning and hiccuping. She could feel his giant paws grappling along his sloshing tummy and pinching at asphalt and fauna chunks, as well as her, as if to help his system break her into a pulp. Para simply chuckled: His arousal and content amused her, for their current relationship was more symbiotic than he knew. She gave him his most filling meal in all his kaiju-hood, and he gave her the triumph of knowing that digestive acids did absolutely moot to her scales; they had the resistance of over 250,000 carnivores: the amount of civilians she had delivered to her tummy.
But … Their symbiosis was only going to steadily break down as fate shifted in her favor. She raised a hand to his belly walls, then BREAAAAM! A muffled laser-blast made his eyes widen: Suddenly shrunken, he found himself in mid-air before he plopped on his rump, reduced from one hundred feet tall to fifty feet tall. His jaws broke apart for a groan, and he seized his gut which seemed to have doubled its size, what with his new proportions.
“Little dino, what have you done? HIC!”
Another blast of her shrink-energy reduced him to twenty-five feet tall, so his belly wobbled with much more power. Para laid punches to his innards as he coughed and reeled from the force of her blows.
“Ohhh … just takin’ you down to my size, since I’m too small for you~”
“N-no, wait—”
A blizzard-blast of chills coursed through him, and he dwindled to the size of twelve feet tall, making him the size of a rare civilian and nothing more. He groaned and clutched his dome of gut, which now dwarfed him and wracked his innards with blows his tolerance for pain couldn’t afford.
Muscle spasms wracked his middle until he found his throat flailing, his inner muscles collaborating for a gag reflex. A lump of geography and prey rolled up his craw, then he retched up half-digested road material and plant-life, along with Para, who rose beneath a veil of gastric goop and rubbed her paws together mischievously.
“Karma,” she repeated. “Abooout that …”
Half her size, the kaiju-like dwarf-dino gulped and fumbled to his feet, and he tripped over the crater of his former soles as he made to escape. But Para tailed him right behind his shadow, until the force of an exploding grenade pinned him to the ground, but instead of shrapnel his backside was covered by a huge gut: empty, yet crushing him, and seeming to growl out his name, even though Para could not have known what that name was!
The shrunken giganotosaurus launched into a volley of heel-kicks and elbowings, cursing her and all the generations of her line that came before. Yet, his skill was no match for her impenetrable hide and superior size, so she dragged him out from underneath her rumbly paunch with ease. The stubborn dino tried to yawn his maw over hers even as she pulled him toward her jaws, but she leered him with pleasure and ire and stretched her jaws wider than he could, then stuffed him down her esophagus. The circumferential conveyor belt of slimy muscles gripped him down as she hissed from her nose in euphoria, tongue lapping over his crispy scales and sugary, fruity radiation.
Unstoppable gulps planted him in the pit of her paunch, where Brash broke into a fit of distress and combated her belly walls with all his fleeting strength. Yet, a tendril of fire would have done more harm against the ocean. His impacts of his fists gyrated the slick belly walls and roused greater grumbles of her gut; and their effects on the environment only became more drastic and pleasurable to Para when suddenly he expanded back to twenty-five feet tall, then fifty feet tall, then one hundred feet tall.
Fences of homes splintered and planked underneath Para’s belly, which had suddenly acquired the size of a curled-up kaiju. “Grraaagh … nnngh … gurgle down for me, you big hunk, you …” Her massive hill of sunny-scaled tummy emanated such a metabolic heat, she panted while she nuzzled into the uncomfortably warm, fluctuating folds of pillowy dino flesh. A voice quadruple the size of her own pleaded and begged, muffled by the indestructible walls while the sweltering, sloshing tummy chamber reduced the dino to his most core elements: How fast did the bubbly golden brew change his scales into a molten desert-hued ooze from their constant splashes-against; how fast did he melt like ice cream forgotten in a bowl on some tropical beach!
The traits of the lower half of his body merged as this goopy cataract of gurgled sludge, and a webby maw pushed into the belly-bulge facing Para to utter one last swear: “CURSE YOU, PRBRBRBRSSRRRGGLLL!”
Even as he issued his last breath, the shapes of arms collapsed and receded from the gut’s rotund curve, and the head imitated a heap of dough more and more until the whole pitiful dino slouched with gargles into the pool that was halfly himself, a pool of putty and acid.
The pleasure of digesting him, of her body kickstarting its absorption of his size and power, came to her as the first glimpse of sun comes to someone who has dwelled in a cave lifelong. Her stomach jiggled in sporadic thunder-claps, the claps relentless, one after the other; and each clap simultaneously shrunk that rotund midriff and speared her up a size. Her shadow dawned on a home before her backside decimated it. The parasaur grew to one hundred and ten feet tall: so large, the homes around her looked like dollhouses, the street like a too-small carpet for a divinity such as herself to walk upon …
4Two years later, society has been wholly revamped in favor of the herbivores. That place that was once called Carnivorizer Headquarters has been renamed Herbivorizer Headquarters, for all the leaf-eaters of the world are christened there, so that their kind averages a height of nine feet tall. Ninety-five percent of the world’s carnivores have finally been caught and removed from their blessings, so that the leaf-eaters look down upon most of them—and, from time to time, even eat them.
Herbivores and carnivores alike worship Para, where she resides at a royal colosseum that was wrought next to Herbivorizer H.Q: the leaf-eaters because they love her for blessing them with reparations; the meat-eaters because they have no choice.
Will the meat-eaters ever repay their debt, and have their blessings returned to them, that they may be equal amongst the herbivores? Only time will tell. Time, and the quality of their worship and sacrifices to their new parasaur overlord.
Read the sequel here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/33626935/
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Category Story / Vore
Species Dinosaur
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 289.2 kB
Respect, thanks for the remark!
I write a lot of content that revisits kinks and themes of past content, so I'm always seeking new ways to describe things. My exploratory side can sometimes get carried away. And, having some experience as an English tutor for a community college on my resume, I definitely know better. Sometimes, it's just good to have others get on my case.
I write a lot of content that revisits kinks and themes of past content, so I'm always seeking new ways to describe things. My exploratory side can sometimes get carried away. And, having some experience as an English tutor for a community college on my resume, I definitely know better. Sometimes, it's just good to have others get on my case.
I don't like that the order is reversed. It's still inequality. And what about the carnivore children are they eaten two? How many were orphaned by such ravenous genocide? I seriously doubt their wouldn't be actually decent herbivores that don't care about the status quo and are willing to adopt a carnivore child despite the way society is.
Indeed, it's still inequality. I would advise readers, "Don't try this in reality."
Or, heck, try it - why not? Either way, there will always be the oppressors and the oppressed. Though, quality of life has improved in all classes around the board in 1st world countries via technology and medicine, so there's hope yet for everyone.
What you're saying about dino kids at the end there, I don't exactly know; though, it's kind of an unspoken rule in mass growth/mass vore stories that only adults are of importance. A sort of suspension of disbelief that the children don't exist - a kink story is a sort of ride for which you must be "this tall" to ride, so to speak.
Or, heck, try it - why not? Either way, there will always be the oppressors and the oppressed. Though, quality of life has improved in all classes around the board in 1st world countries via technology and medicine, so there's hope yet for everyone.
What you're saying about dino kids at the end there, I don't exactly know; though, it's kind of an unspoken rule in mass growth/mass vore stories that only adults are of importance. A sort of suspension of disbelief that the children don't exist - a kink story is a sort of ride for which you must be "this tall" to ride, so to speak.
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