Ross Federman and Joe Hawley, the drummer and guitarist of the indie pop band Tally Hall, had
always had a special bond. On tour, late at night after a show, Joe would often sneak into Ross'
hotel room with a little "snack," as he called it, before a game of vore roleplay. Tonight was no
different.
 
"Open wide Rossy boy!" Joe commanded with a mischievous grin as he held out a squirming
gray mouse. Ross dutifully parted his plump lips, allowing Joe to pop the wriggling creature onto
his outstretched tongue.
 
"Mmmm, delicious," Ross mumbled with a smile, his eyes twinkling as he slowly chewed and
swallowed the mouse whole, its tiny bones and organs sliding down his throat. "Mmm, couple
more maybe?"
 
Joe chuckled darkly, producing two more mice from his pocket. "One for you, one for me." In a
flash, he gulped down his mouse and shoved the other into Ross' mouth before the drummer
could react. Ross choked and sputtered before reluctantly swallowing.
 
"I've got a bigger 'snack' in mind for you tonight though, Ross," Joe said, licking his lips. "On
your feet, drummer boy!"
 
Ross obediently stood, a mixture of nervousness and excitement fluttering in his gut as he
always got before these games. Joe began smacking his lips and making loud gulping noises.
 
"Open up now, I'm coming in!"
 
Ross kept his mouth agape with widened eyes as Joe approached. Then in a swift motion, Joe
began cramming his head into Ross' mouth and bulging throat. He slid in fast, determined to
bypass the tight clutch of Ross' esophagus, until his shoulders wedged in and he was unable to
shove in any deeper.
 
"Hrm...Ghkkk...rs...hff...you're really...HRM...cramping down...on me, aren't you...GHKK...Ross?"
Joe mumbled, his words muffled by the hot, tight clutch of Ross' gullet. The drummer's eyes
bulged and he let out a strangled whine as he fought to relax his throat.
 
"Hrrngghh...I can't...HRM...I'm going...GHKK...to...urp...poop you!" Ross retched, doubling over
and wrapping his arms around his distended, sloshing gut. Joe could only whimper as his body
was squeezed and churned by the powerful contractions of Ross' stomach.
 
The undigested remains of the mice were now mixing with mashed up bits of Joe's body,
dissolving his flesh into a thick, syrupy slurry that gurgled up Ross' throat and splattered out his
mouth in chunky vomit. But the worst part was the diarrhea - the sloppy, squelching flood of
mush churning out of Ross' anus in a messy stream.
 Ross stumbled to the toilet, clutching his heaving stomach, and plopped down with a meaty
thud. Immediately, a cascade of watery brown goo began gushing out of him with a loud
splattering noise, quickly filling the bowl with a frothy, chunky mess.
 
When it was finally over and the water had calmed, Ross stared in horror at the pinkish-gray
remains of his bandmate swirling in the murky waters - little gobs of hair, gnarled bits of flesh, a
few bones, and Joe's glasses bobbing amidst the floating debris.
 
"Oh god...what...have I...done?!" Ross wailed, not knowing whether to laugh at the absurdity of
it all or cry as the reality of the situation sank in. He was a murderer now, and of his best friend!
 
With trembling hands, Ross reached for the handle. He had to hide the evidence of his crime.
The toilet quickly swirled and sucked down the chunky, pinkish remains of Joe Hawley, gone
without a trace, leaving Ross alone with the guilt and trauma of what he had just done.