(soft vore, hard digestion)
Martin was in love, not with another orca, at least not in this case. The twelve meter long bull was in love with a certain island and the pod of dolphins inhabiting the surrounding waters. This special community of curious and utterly delicious cetaceans had developed a strange culture where they never fought back or fled when one of the orcas approached them with predatory intent. In turn the dolphins never had to worry about any kind of far more numerous predators like sharks or something. Martin was not sure really what the dolphins got out of this, but now that he had Dos sideways in his jaws and felt the bottlenose’s warm erection growing against his tongue, he felt that the pod might not act completely logical in that regard.
 Dos had been a good friend, introduced him to many a tasty treat and accompanied Martin on one or another explorative adventure, but when his empty stomachs had been groaning in complaint, the dolphin just looked too delicious and it seemed as if the large bottlenose had been posing as a perfect meal all day. At least Martin had this impression. He had questioned if he really should consume a dolphin he actually liked, but then the taste of his favourite food hit him and as soon as Dos’s arousal added into the calculation, Martin felt obliged to indulge the pod’s culture and eat his friend. Dos being made of enough flesh to keep Martin going for two days or more was a nice side effect, of course.
 
The view was amazing. Dos was not just shuddering because he had a warm, quivering orca tongue to hump against and drool his seed over as he experienced a mini orgasm, it was the view which really stunned him. Martin had worked his jaws and tongue skillfully and aligned him with his massive cavernous gullet. Dos had seen the huge orca consume dozens of other dolphins like this and while he had suspected to end like this long ago, he was still surprised by how intense it all felt. Growing up in a pod like this, being eaten by an orca was no terror to him. He had been raised knowing that this was the best way to part from the living world. He was spared the anguish of disease and the horror of being transformed into a gory cloud by shark jaws. Instead he was sensually treated and carefully handled by someone he had known as a protector and occasional predator of his kind. Dos simply embraced it, playfully flicking his tail to rub his long tapered shaft over the warm and soft tongue, feeling oddly welcome and at home when the entrance to Martin’s throat kissed and then parted around his rostrum. Another shiver.
All light was cut out as the pleasantly warm flesh of the orca’s gullet engulfed his melon too, a gentle yet immensely powerful gulp pulled him deeper, making most of his body rest on the massive tongue which playfully tasted him. None of them said a word, even though they easily could. Lost in the bliss of their voracious union. One starting a journey to become part of the other. As his descend down the throat started properly, Dos felt the huge predator stop and rest. The orca which had once swallowed a shark half again Dos’s length in one piece, suddenly stopped for him, still tasting and calmly massaging him with his tongue. Martin treated him entirely different from prey he caught in a hunt and Dos deeply appreciated it, hoping the orca would not mind the salty taste he left on his tongue as a result.
 
On occasion Martin ended up making a sound or two after all. Too little to form a sentence or a proper call even. It was more like the cetacean version of a cat’s purr, an analogue transmission of pleasure and contentedness, packaged in very short piping sounds. He was not sure anyone, even his prey, was going to be able to discern them since he knew from more talkative dolphins, which had long since been digested, that his swallows could sound like thunder when rolling over a dolphin’s head.
He started swimming, Dos’s fluke still sticking out from his maw, making a little show for the other dolphins he knew would be looking from the shadows of the deep blue ocean or hide behind volcanic rock formations, carefully observing, like Dos used to do. Anyone of them might be Martin’s next meal or he might never meet them. He did not care at the moment. He was too busy making his tongue guide Dos’s tail down the last distance into his gullet to finish devouring him. The lobes of the dolphin’s fluke were eventually folded up as the whole cetacean was pulled into Martin’s throat, the fleshy tube reluctant to part wider than it absolutely had to. And then, with a final squelch, as if to say farewell, the last bit of Dos vanished and Martin closed his maw. The throat then sealed shut behind the descending dolphin and the tongue resumed its normal position in the seemingly insatiable maw of the orca. Only Martin knew where Dos was right now, since from the outside there was no way of telling he had consumed about 600 kilos of dolphin in the first place. And none of the other dolphins wanted to risk getting close enough to echolocate their doomed podmate, probably not wanting to risk becoming Martin’s second course. They all knew he had the stomach for it.
 
Dos was still very excited. The massage of the tongue had ended and now Martin’s throat was giving him a firm full body embrace instead. He simply had to think of all the prey which had been here before him. Dozens of dolphins and sharks, countless sea birds or squid and certainly tens of thousands of fish had all passed through here to become fuel and building blocks for the orca he was about to feed. It was simply magnificent and while the prospect of death was scary, he would not want to be anywhere else.
Then the enthusiastic prey’s rostrum encountered something tight and firm right in front of him, the dolphin knowing once more where he was. This sphincter was leading him to the place he might well die in. The orca’s forestomach. Of course he knew what an inhospitable place it was, but part of the good luck to be Martin’s prey was that the large bull had learned how to squeeze his meals onwards to the gastric stomach, at least most of the time. Tight muscle was squeezing over Dos’s head now, then pinching his flippers uncomfortably tight, scraping all the water and throat slime off his smooth skin before he slipped into the deadly chamber.
When he entered the forestomach properly, Dos was still encountering the same soothing heat of the orca’s body, but the softness was gone. Instead he was surrounded by thick muscular stomach walls which were covered in rough, sandpaper like protrusions which felt a lot like spotty shark skin. He had been there and watched this very stomach chamber churn a dolphin, not much smaller than him, into a meaty pulp once. Echolocation did not give him all the details, but it sure showed him when muscle and solid bone were reduced to a homogenous pulp. Now the same organ was trying this on him and the rough walls started to scrape over his form, leaving groves and cuts on his thick blubbery skin. Dos felt that while the stomach was technically empty, there were still some bits of former meals left which were now grinding on his skin and helping the cruel organ to peel him. A few teeth of some predatory prey or another were cutting into the thick skin on Dos’s head and along his belly there was a stabbing sensation where the firm stomach walls forced a squid beak to push into his blubber. Normal prey would thrash and panic under such circumstances, but for Dos it was simply part of the deal. He needed to experience this to be proper orca food, to appreciate the complete consumption of his body and the inevitable oblivion. He just hoped Martin was able to push him into the second stomach soon.
 
But with Dos being quite a bit larger than the average dolphin, he was not easy to just squeeze through an opening which was meant for partially digested stew of ground up prey. Martin knew Dos was not going to like it in his forestomach and that all the dolphins preferred the gastric one even if both killed them just as well. The orca tried several times to squeeze Dos into the second chamber, which was already awaiting him with soft, churning, acid drooling walls, but the dolphin’s fluke and tail got caught near the sphincter between the stomach chambers all the time. Martin tried three times, pushing Dos around with violent contractions on each instance, but it never worked. He gave a soft sigh, hoping his prey would not mind too much. His forestomach was going to have to grind the bottlenose dolphin into a more manageable shape and size first.
 
The forestomachs inexorable churning and grinding was taking a toll on Dos. The dolphin started to experience intense pain once the rough walls were no longer just raking over his blubbery skin, turning it from a smooth grey to a frayed white. Now the heaving organ started to tear away pieces of his fins and he was actually wiggling a little, trying to keep his eyes away from the sharp protrusions adorning the forestomach walls, as if he was ever going to have a use for them again. Multiple times the dolphin was certain he was going to escape this violent sack of muscle. only to feel his fluke barring the escape to his destination. Each time the forestomach heaved, more of his blubber was stripped from him, actually lubricating the walls a little and slowing the process of mechanical digestion. But at least his fluke became rounder and smaller on each attempt until it was reduced to a bleeding stump and his body, stripped of its fins, was a meaty torpedo waiting to be digested.
Eventually Dos finally felt his tail stump getting stuck in the one smooth bit of the entire forestomach: the firm slender passage to the gastric stomach. He and Martin let out cheery chirps in unison as they both felt it happen. The orca gave a massive heave, causing the forestomach to clench violently and force the gate between stomachs wide open, using Dos’s reshaped body like a wedge. It was right and uncomfortable, especially when the firm muscle reluctantly moved over the torn flesh which used to be attached to Dos’s fins, but eventually the same pressure helped squeezing him in. With an ecstatic chirp Dos was forced into his final resting place: a large sack of slimy, convulsing muscle which hugged him gently. The stomach massaged the dolphin as if to comfort him, while also drooling fresh acids and digestive enzymes right onto his shredded blubber and flesh. This stomach was churning Dos more slowly, almost sensually and it was all feeling so smooth. Parts of his body grew numb as the deadly liquids worked on his nerves and seared them, other parts experienced fiery agony as if he was burning. In any case, Dos felt lucky when the aggressive juices lapping against his genital slit were actually causing a warm tingle. He knew it was not going to stay this way, but since all of him was going to be turned into blubber and orca waste anyway, he might as well get one last use out of his cock.
With a cheerful chirp, Dos started to actually hump into the warm slimy stomach folds as if wanting to thank them for digesting him with acids instead of sheer violent force. As soon as his member was out, it got the same acidic coating as the rest of his body, only that it was not cut in a hundred different places yet, so it actually felt nice. Dos leaned into the pleasure, matching the pace of the peristalsis with his slow, firm thrusts, massaging himself on a deep fold in Martin’s stomach. Adding to his pleasure was the fact where he was: Deep inside a friend’s body, being digested alive, fulfilling the purpose of a dolphin in the food chain and enjoying every bit of it. In a weird way this was what being alive was about for him and his pod. So many times he had seen Martin feed, devouring all kinds of sea life and how often had Dos been watching, trembling, barely holding back from offering himself. Now it was his turn and the dolphin happily drifted and tumbled about inside the massive stomach, shooting his last seed reserves into the organ which had turned so many of his kind into liquid.
Once the fun was over, Dos was left with nothing but darkness and the ever continuing progress of his own digestion. The acids pooled around him, licking at his frayed blubber and wounded flesh, melting pieces off his body which turned the liquids around him into a thick stew. Then, every so often, the stomach tightened up entirely and pumped most of the Dos soup into Martin's intestines before the whole process repeated. Again liters upon liters of warm burning acids dripped from the huge stomach’s walls and were rubbed all over the decomposing dolphin. Soon the gut worked its way through his bubber, starting to get to his muscles and melting through weak points like his eyes, slits and blowholes. It was as if the gut had waited for him to have his last moment of bliss before suddenly tearing his body apart. Now that he was being digested inside out and acids entered his respiratory tract and skull, Dos was being reduced to a wildly twitching lump of firm dolphin meat, somewhere between alive and dead. His soft insides put up a lot less resistance than the resilient skin and after a while his body, or what was left of it, fell still.
 
“Farewell my friend.” hummed Martin as he felt the motions cease inside of his stomach. He had been peacefully swimming near the surface, enjoying the warm sun the entire time while Dos had been digested alive. He did not understand why the dolphins behaved in this way, but he loved indulging (in) them. At this point his stomach calmed down a little, going slower now that there was no more killing to do and instead it just assumed its causal pace, trying to process Dos’s corpse as efficiently as possible. Despite his impressive size for a dolphin, Dos was going to be nothing but a cleaned off skeleton before sundown and even the bones would not make it until next morning. The heat and pressure in the orca’s acidic stomach was just too much for any creature to last more than a few hours in.
Once the last of Dos’s bones were crushed into wet powder and pushed onwards, he was done, reduced to a thick nutritious stew which slowly meandered through Martin’s huge spiralling intestines. On each step of the way nutrients and useful elements were plucked from the mush, turning it darker and more grainy every step of the way. There were over 600 kilos of dolphin at first and in the end only a few dozen kilos of dark mush remained, only suited to restarting the food chain on the lowest level. The rest of the former dolphin was swirling through Martin’s bloodstream now, waiting for a chance to become muscle or blubber.