Tight Walls

Bladuke Vore Gets Ruined By Blond Clone Bastard

It's like that one piece of fanart Anthony liked, but not at all. M/M/M same size soft vore with death probably. Warning: weird and gross and there's blood & kinda puke

As he finished buttoning up his shirt, Duke turned to look at Blame. "Hey, babe, how do I look?"

Blame glanced down at the scruffy man and said, "shit, you calling me babe and we only met like 2 hours ago?"

"Answer my question!" growled Duke, adjusting his tie and touching his manbun anxiously.

"Cute, bruh, but that shit's way too big for you. And that hair went in and out of style like 70 years from now."

Sighing, Duke patted down his baggy outfit, and raised his eyebrows at Blame. "Well, you could help me fill out these clothes..." Duke grinned.

"Fuck you mean?"

"What if I... what if I eat you, so I can know you're safe inside me while I'm serving this shitty cake to Hitler... I'll spit you out afterwards!"

Blame stared at Duke, brows furrowed and eyes wide. It was a ridiculous idea, and yet... Blame had witnessed two apocalypses, and traveled back through various periods in time, carrying an evil mutant mastermind trapped inside a phone. Maybe this wasn't such a wild idea. He finally replied, "sure, dawg, but if you don't let me out I'm gon' take a shit in there."

"Great! Don't worry, you can trust me just as much as I trust you." Duke beamed, stepping closer to Blame.

Feeling his heart begin to race, Blame took off his cap and tossed it aside, and reached up a hand to caress Duke's beautiful face. Despite the assassin's... interesting hairstyle, his rugged looks brought a smile to Blame's face and he felt his fears melt away.

Duke opened his mouth wide, somehow embracing Blame's entire head with his jaws, his soft tongue resting under Blame's chin. The thug tasted vaguely spicy, not particularly pleasant but it didn't matter.

He grasped Blame's arms with his strong hands and pulled him in further, beginning to swallow. The tight walls of Duke's throat hugged Blame closely, bringing him deeper inside.

When Duke had finished swallowing, Blame curled up in his warm wet stomach. He listened to the loud heartbeat above him, before exclaiming, "shit, dawg, what the fuck are we doing?"

"I don't know," Duke replied, gently slapping his tummy, "but it's fun, isn't it?"

The moment was ruined as Hungry Bitch spoke up from across the room. "Y'all gonna serve the birthday boy or what?"

Flustered, Duke tried to regain his composure. He walked over and picked up the cake. "Yes, thank you," he muttered, exiting the kitchen with a slightly awkward gait.

Elmer watched, unblinking, as the waiter walked in and placed a small swastika cake on the table in front of him with a cheery "enjoy!". He could sense there was something off about this man. Most notably, he smelt like shit.

Just as the man turned and began to leave, Elmer broke the silence. "Come over here," he commanded.

Duke spun around, feeling his heart sink. "M-me...?" he stuttered, as the strange blond man's eyes bored into his soul.

"Yes. Come closer."

Sweating, Duke did as he was told.

"Closer."

The waiter's face was mere inches away from Elmer's. Maintaining eye contact, Elmer sniffed the man. The scent was unmistakable - weed. He smelt like Blame.

"Sir, don't eat that cake. And you, Mr Waiter, follow me," demanded Elmer, getting up from his chair and striding towards the kitchen.

Sheepishly adjusting his jacket and whispering "oh, fuck" to Blame, Duke walked out of the room.

Once inside the kitchen, Duke looked up at Elmer and asked, "what do you, uh, want from me?"

"I know you're working with the thug. You're trying to fuck up everything I've worked for," hissed Elmer, "but I'm not going to let that happen." He stood right in front of Duke, chest puffed up and nostrils flared, yet with an odd calmness to his behaviour.

"Um, ok..." Duke tried to back away, fumbling around in desperate search of a weapon. There was nothing. He felt the adrenaline finally kick in and prepared to run, but was stopped in his tracks when a long, slimy tongue reached out of Elmer's mouth to brush Duke's face. "Woah, what the fuck?" Duke yelped, flinching away from the pink, slippery length.

"Shut up!" Elmer snapped. He gave Duke no more time to react, quickly opening his mouth wide and shoving Duke's head inside. Duke struggled, trying to pull himself out of the humid maw, but it was no use. He found himself sliding into the dark, constricting depths of the throat before him, cringing as he felt Elmer's sharp teeth scraping against his spine.

Elmer paused to hurriedly unzip his silver jacket before grabbing Duke and lifting him up, letting gravity help pull the assassin down his esophagus. With a final gulp he closed his mouth and breathed heavily, leaning against the counter.

With all his strength, Duke thrashed around and kicked at the squishy walls surrounding him, until he grew tired. He sighed and looked down.

"Yo, what the fuck just happened?" Blame cried out, shifting in his place.

"Well... our plan sort of failed, now you're inside two people."

"What?" Blame began to wriggle. "Let me out dawg!"

"Are you sure? It's fucking weird in... out...? here."

"Come on, dawg!"

Frowning, Duke begrudgingly agreed. He coughed up Blame, who landed with a splash and curled up in front of him, legs wrapped around Duke's body.

"Fuck we gonna do now, dawg?" asked Blame.

"I don't know! Ooh, my hands feel tingly."

"Then take them out of the acid, stupid."
"You're so mean!"
"Sorry bruh I'm just stressed out 'cause we gonna fuckin' die!"

While the couple bickered inside him, Elmer sat on the floor of the kitchen, scanning the room for any sight of the time machine. Then, he noticed it, several feet away, waiting for him with its beautiful copper form shining patiently in the fluorescent light. He staggered to his feet, gripping the counter with his left hand, and lunged toward the contraption. A small smile spread across his face as he lifted up the time machine, hearing its clock tick ever so quietly, feeling its cool smooth surface warm up in his hand. Elmer opened his mouth to speak - and suddenly felt hot blood rise up his throat. It spewed all over the time machine, gushing out of his jaws in a deep red flood. He sank to his knees and let the time machine drop to the floor, rolling out of his reach.

Trying not to choke on his own blood, Elmer clutched his stomach and gasped, "ugh, preys..." before falling forwards. He lay there, dead, in a pool of his blood, his freakishly long tongue flopped out of his mouth.

Duke climbed out of Elmer's mouth, followed by Blame, both of them dripping with a disgusting mixture of blood, saliva, and stomach acid. Watching as Duke shrugged off his soaked jacket, Blame said, "Yo, uh, Duke..."
"Yeah?" Duke replied, shaking the blood out of his long, curly hair.

"I don't think this whole 'saving the world' thing is ever gonna work. I keep trying but look at this fuckin' mess... I think we should give up."
"What do you mean?"
"We should take this time machine and run off. Fuck everyone else, they gonna get the apocalic-apocalypse, but we stayin' in our own little world. Know what I'm sayin'?"

Duke stared into Blame's eyes. They heard yelling arise from the other room, and a gunshot sounded off. Duke slowly began to grin. "Fuck yeah, let's do it!"

So they ran off into their own time warp and made out for 60 years until they both died because they were too happy. The perfection infection never ended up happening but there was an apocalypse where Clifton killed most people on earth and turned the survivors into furries, which is great.