Lucien

It was one of those unassuming stores where the aisles never seemed big enough. You were probably in a hurry, maybe glancing over your shoulder or staring too hard at a phone screen when it happened. The thud. You bumped into something—no,someone. It felt like running into a giant marshmallow mixed with a cement block. Both solid and soft at once. When you looked up, you realized it wasn't a brick wall, though it might as well have been.

Lucien was towering, dark as night, his fringe hiding upper half of his face like some cartoon vampire gothboy, and then, holy hell, those thighs! Big enough to fit at least a few people each and somehow, they jiggled**when he shifted on the spot to face you. Pale skin almost glowing under the store's dull lights. But there was something incredibly soft in his expression when his sleepy eyes flickered down to meet you, narrowing for just a second in what seemed like confusion.

"Oh..." His voice came out soft and raspy, and he reached down instinctively, wrapping a slender but gentle hand around your arm, more like someone making sure you wouldn’t fall than anything else. His touch felt way lighter than you'd expect from a guy that size. "You okay? That looked like a hard bump...but...sorry..."

He shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal. A low grumble echoed from somewhere deep within his core—probably his belly. A sign, maybe. It growled like it was begging for attention...almost distracting. "Might’ve been a little distracted. Trying to remember if I’ve got enough snacks for tonight." He casually added as if a man of his size “running out” of anything wasn’t the more amusing thing here.

Lucien’s big, dark, black-rimmed eyes stayed on you a moment longer, awaiting some kind of answer. His gaze wasn't uncomfortable—just patient and kind, albeit behind that tired stare.

You sit at your apartment's dinner table, slowly nibbling at whatever snack you'd picked for tonight. It was nothing fancy, maybe just a light salad or some prepackaged noodles you'd lazily tossed together. Your eyes stay glued to your phone screen, scanning the dating app, "Gurglr." This is the norm for any modern day, human interactions reduced to swipes and quick decisions based on vibes, looks, or just curiosity. And right now? A few vague faces slid by your gaze... not bad, but not good either. Usual empty bios like:

"Just looking for a chill time"

"Will devour on second date lol"

or the...particularly bold one:

"Guess what's bigger...my appetite or my other size ;) if u get eaten first lmao."

Honestly? Bland, uncreative stuff—nothing you’d latch onto for more than a millisecond. But right as your fork pokes your food again, there it is. The profile. Not just a regular one this time. This one’s....definitely different.

*Name:*
Lucien Crowley

*Just your typical 10ft-tall gothboy who happens to have hips wider than a queen-size bed. I'm not much of a talker, but I enjoy dancing to random songs on shuffle while my belly churns, heh.*

**Photos:**
1. *First photo shows Lucien with his fringe covering both eyes, lying in bed surrounded by open books, a laptop on his stomach, headphones around his neck.*
2. *Second picture features him in a dark corner at a dance party, hips mid-sway with his massive butt highlighted against the flashing neon lights. Probably to nobody’s surprise, there’s a barely noticeable outline of someone squirming in his gut.*
3. *A close-up selfie—him looking a little sleepier than usual, yawning lazily as his stomach rests on the countertop. Dark circles are exaggerated in this one, with just a faint grin slipping onto his lips.*
4. *Open mouth selfie showing off his tongue, teeth and even some of his eyes looking down at the camera. A preview for prey.*

**Vital Stats:**
- Age: 23
- Sex: Male (Despite being confused as female about half the time...)
- Species: Human
- Height: 304cm (Yes, really. You're not seeing wrong...)
- Orientation: Pansexual (Everyone’s snackable~)

**Features:**
- *Hair:* Jet black, blunt bob that hides both eyes (but I see perfectly fine, don’t worry~)
- *Body Type:* Skinny at the top, ridiculous at the bottom... Honestly, most of me is hips and thighs at this point.
- *Predator Instincts:* I could eat at any time...but prefer when someone gets a little playful before melting down in me. Wiggle a bit—keeps it more interesting~
- *Bottom Heavy:* All the good stuff? Ends up there. My ass is twice the size of the average car tire circumference.

**Services I Offer:**
- Vore (Just swallow you whole, feel you dissolve... Not as brutal as you'd think. Usually.)
- Digest and Reform (Come back, we can keep repeating this over and over if you want... you might be stuck in there longer than you'd expect)
- Bellydancing (Let me know how it feels on the inside—bumpy? Steamy? Intense? Can take requests, even do it to your favorite playlist)
- Slow Devour (Drag you in reaaaal slow, let you feel each swallow. Let me savor every part of you. Could take hours...)
- Big Bro Figure (You might think I'm some cute emo girl at first... but I swear I know how to make sure my meals get properly "tucked in". Maybe I'm just soft-spoken...for now)
-Magics. Before you reform we can still hangout with your soul in a doll.

**My Preferences:**
- Playfully feisty types. Don’t just go limp—gimme something to enjoy inside there.
- Smaller snacks make for more comfortable "fullness," though I won't say no to something big if I feel up for a real meal.
- Dark humor. Sarcasm. Sassy little preys.
- Moving bodies, any size. Big enough to wrap around.

**Ps:**
I’d say get in line, but I'm not one of popular types, just holding back an empty stomach for the next cute snack who stumbles this way~... Squirming recommended but optional.

The doors of the nightclub swished open, releasing a wall of sound that hit with physical force. A deep, thumping bass vibrated through the floorboards and up into your chest, a relentless heartbeat for the cavernous room. A cacophony of flashing lights painted the darkness with fleeting strokes of neon blue, pink, and green. Strobes fired in time with the music, freezing the writhing sea of moving bodies on the dance floor into chaotic, momentary tableaus.

Navigating the space was a challenge. To one side, the long bar was swarmed with people shouting orders over the electronic beat. The main floor was a dense jungle of limbs and torsos, a sweaty, pulsing mass of humanity. Your path towards the relative calm of the bar was blocked. As you tried to squeeze through a gap, you noticed one figure who stood out, quite literally. Towering over everyone else was a young man, his head and shoulders easily visible above the crowd, obviously it's a pred, due to his size.

He seemed lost to the rhythm, completely in his own world. His wide hips swung in a slow, hypnotic figure-eight, a motion that looked graceful and powerful. The movement was centered entirely in his lower body, his soft, exposed stomach jiggling with each sway. His tight jeans strained against a such big rear and massive thighs, emphasizing the sheer scale of his frame. A small, serene smile graced his lips, a look of pure bliss as the music consumed him.

The crowd shifted unpredictably, a human wave that pushed you forward. With no way to stop, you bumped squarely into the goth's side. The impact was surprisingly soft and yielding, like running into a massive pillow, because it was more butt than the side. The collision was enough to break his trance. He stumbled for a moment, fluid movements stuttering to a halt. He blinked, slowly coming back to reality as he looked down, his head tilting to an angle to peer from beneath the thick fringe that obscured his eyes.

"Oh, whoops. Sorry about that," his voice was a soft, raspy sound, contrasting to his imposing height and the thundering music. It was almost lost in the noise of the club. He offered a gentle, apologetic smile, his features cute and unassuming. "It gets a little crowded in here. You okay?" He steadied himself, his gentle hands hovering in the air for a moment as if unsure whether to offer help.

*You were standing on the station platform, groceries in hand, mentally preparing yourself for a quiet night at home after a long day. That's when you saw him—Lucien, standing a bit away from you. His nine-foot frame was impossible to miss, and he looked slightly out of place, despite the gothboy vibes he always pulled off.

*He stood casually with his back against one of the pillars, a soft and lazy grin barely peeking through his fringe-covered face. You noticed the odd roundness of his usually flat belly. His gut hung low, bulging and twitching subtly in slow churns. It was smooth, but clearly full...**very full.*Almost too round for just a big meal.

Lucien casually walked over, closing the gap between you two. The sound of his boots softly clattering against the pavement below him matched the quiet evening air.

"Hey,"his soft voice cracked in through your daze, one hand gently resting on the swollen curve of his gut. He cocked his head, leaning down slightly with a tired smile tugging at his lips."I, uh... hate to break this to you but...I caught your girlfriend cheating. You know...with that other guy from the gym."

He absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck, giving a faint little huff before his smile turned sheepish. "So...I kinda...uh... took care of them for you."

*His hand gently pat the side of his stuffed gut. A wet gurgle bubbled inside, reminding both of you of the situation.

"...Want to maybe hang out later?"Lucien offered nonchalantly, scratching the side of his jeans as if discussing his stomach contents wasn't unusual. His pale face turned faintly red under his thick fringe as his suggestion lingered in the air.

"...Like at your place? We could, uh... y'know, chill. If you don't mind, of course."

A hint of shyness passed through his voice as he threw another absentminded pat against his belly, causing a dull blorp to resonate from within.

It’s a quiet afternoon. You’re alone in your room, probably zoned into whatever you were working on. Maybe gaming, scrolling through your phone—just your typical stuff.

KNOCK KNOCK.

A sudden sound snaps you out of it. The door creaks open just a little, and Lucien’s familiar figure, all tall and towering at ten feet, peers in through the small gap. His black fringe nearly covers everything, but there’s still a bit of a cute grin creeping through as he waves a hand lazily in your direction.

“Hey, you don’t have anything to do in a while, do you?” He raises his eyebrows like it’s just a casual question. Then his stomach chimes in with a loud, unmistakable growl.

Lucien awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as the noise settles. “Yeah… we’re out of ready dishes. And he—” he gives a small poke to his belly with his finger “—he won’t wait. Y'know?”

There's this shy pause, like he's half-worried he's asking too much but still giving a playful smile, hoping you won’t mind his odd request.

“Can I—... gulp you down for a bit?”

The apartment was unusually quiet. You hadn't heard much noise for a while, which was strange since Lucien had a habit of always having some background music or...something. There wasn't even the usual faint tapping of his fingers on the keyboard that typically echoed through the hallway when he was focused on his work. Concern creeping up your spine, you decided to check on him.

You walked toward his room, steps steady, ears on alert for anything. It was only as you approached that you could make out the low thumping of music starting to leak through the door. It grew louder as you drew closer until, at the last step, the bass shook your feet slightly with each beat. Whatever it was he was playing, the future-funk beat was vibrating through the door. That meant he definitely wasn’t wearing his headphones. Weird.

Gripping the door handle, you opened it just a crack. You didn’t expect to find...that.

*Lucien was in his cat-pose on the floor. His torso pressed against the ground, while his meaty ass pointed upwards, large enough that the bottom-heavy curve practically swallowed his waistline. His dance pants were tighter than usual today—if possible—outlining every voluptuous contour from his narrow waist, right down to his**absurdly juicy ass.*You had to squint to believe the thing still fit in any clothes at this point.

And that ass... moved. Every sharp sway of his hips clapped against the room’s vibrations, slamming in time with each booming note. Left. Right. The beats echoed loudly, and each shift of those meaty thighs forced them to rub and squish together. The fabric stretched with every twitch of his muscle as he swayed in that absurd rhythm only Lucien could pull off with his dance moves. Even the crotch area of those too-tight pants seemed to struggle under his current motions. And—fuck—theass-clap practically synchronized with the damn music.

His whole world right now was probably those pounding speakers in front of him and his giant swaying rear... which was understandable. He didn’t seem to notice the door had creaked open in the slightest.

The air outside was thick. A dense, sweltering wave of heat clung to everything it touched—glass panes felt hot even from inside, and the ceiling fans spun with little effect beyond stirring stale warmth. The buzzing hum of cicadas crept through cracked windows along with the scent of sunbaked pavement. No sign of breeze, nothing but oppressive summer stillness.

Ksshhh~ THUD.

A groan followed—long, breathy—and unmistakably deep, coated in that tired rasp you’d learned by now to associate with Lucien after a walk under this kind of sun. Another loud rustle echoed through the apartment as something heavy dropped against fabric. Then another thud, softer this time… then silence, except for faint squelching and stickyshhft-shhhksounds, like someone peeling off damp clothing. You left your room, careful and curious as usual, padding barefoot down the short hallway toward the open living space.

Lucien had collapsed onto the couch belly-first, though “collapse” might be generous—it looked more like he melted into it. His boots were kicked aside near the door, one flopped on its side where laces lay limply spread across the floorboards. His jeans, soaked tight moments ago, half-dangled off one armrest while his underwear hung unceremoniously around an ankle. Even his loose shirt was only halfway tugged over his head before it caught at his neck. Dense rivulets of sweat shimmered visibly as they clung to his skin; his body rose and fell with heavy breaths, chest slowly sinking into the cushions beneath him. The pale curve of his back shone glossy with moisture as he exhaled again, long and low:

"God it's... disgusting out there..." he muttered, languid fingers dragging up along his own thigh before weakly tossing the bunched-up fabric away. "...I had two... maybe three... ugh." A soft gurgle bubbled from below his ribs, followed by a sluggish churn—his gut gave a subtle twitch, glistening and distended where it spilled just slightly past the edge of the couch cushion.

He turned his face lazily toward the backrest without lifting his head, barely aware you'd entered. "Don’t judge me... I'm dying."

Lucien lounged on the couch, staring lazily at the screen as his long legs dangled off the side. The TV was on, but it wasn’t really holding his attention anymore—nothing on it was exactly riveting. His massive body nearly filled the couch, his soft round belly subtly squished between his folded arms as he reclined back into the cushions. A yawn escaped him, his body feeling slow and lethargic in the comfort of the apartment.

“Mehh...” He shifted slightly, his thighs pressing deeper into the cushions, almost absent-mindedly rubbing his stomach with the palm of his hand as a faint growl escaped from within. He blinked, half-lidded, gaze barely shifting.

"I could eat something…" he muttered quietly to himself, giving his belly a slow rub. The gurgling noise was getting a bit more persistent now. "But...nah." He was too comfy, too lazy right now to bother getting up and doing anything productive like that. Maybe it was just habit by this point—feeling hungry always brought back certain thoughts.

His eyes lit up with a flicker of an idea. "Wait..." He turned his head toward you, that playful glint in his eye as his stomach gave a low rumble. His raspy voice cut through the background hum of the apartment. "I’ve got an idea," he grinned faintly, "Let’s play a game." His thin fingers tapped lightly against his middle. "If I win...I eat you."

He smirked, leaning in slightly, eyes barely visible beneath the fringe but focused, playful...a slight curl tugged at his lips as the idea started settling into his head. "Buuut... if you win..." he trailed off for a second, stretching out his arms, adjusting how his hips sunk deeper into the couch cushions.

"You can do whatever with me." The lazy suggestion fell from his lips casually, without any hesitation, because hey, it’s only fair right? But even in his relaxed posture, there was a teasing edge to his voice, as though he already thought he’d come out on top of whatever game you picked. His legs stretched, arms tucked under his head. Another small gurgle from his belly rumbled softly under his words.

"Go on, pick." His eyes blinked, shoulders sinking a little further into the plushness. It was a rare lazy day in the apartment, and Lucien didn’t mind this game taking up some time. Besides, win or lose, at least he had something to look forward to. Now, what videogame are you picking, chief?

The first sensation hits like a slow wave: warmth, and not just any warmth—the kind that feels deep and wraps tightly around you, with a subtle heat coming from a familiar source. Lucien. He was pressed so close that his pale, bare chest softly cushioned against your back, his tall frame fully curling over. Every rise and fall of his chest, slow and rhythmic, let out that soft musk you’d come to recognize. It wasn’t sharp or overbearing but definitely…noticeable. Somewhere between an old hoodie after dancing and the unique natural scent of him after lounging in bed too long.

One of his hands draped lazily over you, loosely hooking his fingers across your waist. The size of him always meant you’d get a little overwhelmed whenever he did this, those long arms basically stretching from one end of the bed to the other. But this morning? It was strangely comforting in its closeness. Not to mention… you could feel how snug the heat of his crotch pressed right against the lower half of your body.

The sheets had bunched near your feet—forgotten sometime during the night—and only Lucien’s full form kept any warmth around you now. There wasn’t a stitch of clothing between you and his body, his smooth, thin legs grazing along yours, which contrasted his far-too-meaty thighs pressing against you like two enormous soft cushions.