One Day, They'll Hang Your Spine From The Rafters

From atop the cage in the centre of the arena, Wuce Wuffer, the announcer for tonight’s contests, gets the show on the road.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the 35th annual Calivornia Junior State Vore Championship Finals!”

The crowd packing the Voratorium to the rafters went wild in response to the announcer’s cry. Men, women and children all clawing their way to the front, trying to be the ones pressed up to the cage, to be the ones who might get a literal taste of blood and not just a figurative one.

Up above the masses tussling at ground level, there was a more civilized seated section. Usually this would be populated with the upper class, politicians, businessmen and the wives of politicians and businessmen. Today however, it was reserved for the schools of the day’s competitors.

2500 seats were reserved for Kobe and Berry’s VLK national, the other 90% was reserved for West Vore Prep.

Vorelando and Cayenne had arrived just as the doors were being closed and as a result didn’t have time to grab any of the cheesy nachos Cayenne had been craving.

“I hope you know that I’m missing out on the finest cheesy nachos in the state because of your attractive, selfish ass.”

“I don’t care.”

“Is Tommy here? I’m told there’s a Tommy in the audience today, birthday boy Tommy. TOMMY, I NEED YOU TO FUCKING SCREAM IF YOU’RE HERE!”

“I’M HERE!”

Tommy was boosted up by his father above the crowd and climbed the side of the cage to the top.

“Now Tommy, I’m told that it’s your birthday, what age are you today?”

“5 sir.”

“Wow, you’re a very big boy Tommy. I’m also told that your birthday present was tickets to today's matches, is it your first time witnessing vore?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well Tommy, for you and all the other vore virgins in the audience, we’re going to explain the rules because there aren’t that many.”

He grabbed Tommy by the scruff of the neck and threw him back into the crowd below.

“TWO MEN ENTER THE CAGE WITH EMPTY STOMACHS, ONE MAN COMES OUT STUFFED FULL. THE ONLY THING YOU NEED TO REMEMBER IS THIS: IT’S EAT OR BE EATEN!”

Fireworks were set off on the top of the cage around Wuce and the crowd went wild once more.

“Who’s up first?” Vorelando asked of Cayenne.

“I think it’s Kobe first, he’s up against Mark.”

“Who’s Berry facing again?”

“He’s up against Clark.”

Mark and Clark Eaton, the pride of West Vore Prep. They had been raised since they were mere cubs to become the professional vorers their father had always wanted to be himself. Identical twins with identical voring styles. Their signature corkscrew style had gained a reputation for its ruthlessness. Every single one of their previous matches had been over in a matter of seconds.

“Our first matchup sees a stylistic clash that’s sure to entertain…..”

All of the lights go out around the arena.

“In the white corner, the corkscrew kid, it’s Mark Eaton!”

A spotlight illuminated Mark and the crowd went bananas. Tall, blonde and white, he might as well have been the poster boy for West Vore Prep.

“And in the other corner, the mystery man, Kobe ‘All Sizzle’ Steakhouse!”

The artificial cricket noises coming from the arena speakers were drowned out by the much more audible booing from the crowd. Mark and Clark were local heroes, almost no one in the audience was pulling for Kobe. Not that he minded, he was always one to feed on adversity.

“So Steakshack, you gonna show us your signature move today?” Mark said in a way that you would assume is racist without being able to conclusively prove that it was.

“Not for you, breadstick, I’m saving it for a real fight.”

The jumbotron above the cage started a countdown from 10, the crowd instantly catches on and counts down alongside it. This countdown is all the preparation you get in pro vore, some say that a vore match is decided in the 10 seconds before it starts.

Mark got into his starting position, grabbing onto the cage and pulling himself towards it, loading his legs like a spring. Kobe did nothing, standing where he had started with his hands in his pockets. Kobe had never once shown off a signature move in any of his matches, many doubted he even possessed one.

This was why, even though he had made it all the way to the finals, people wrote him off. They thought he was a nobody who had made it through regionals through a combination of injuries to opponents and a weak draw.

“5… 4…”

Those people were wrong.

“3… 2…”

Dead wrong.

“1!”

As the count reached one, Wuce revved up his larynx and screamed into the microphone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s time to dig in!”

The second this was said Mark launched himself towards Kobe with his mouth opened wide, cutting through the air like a human bullet, rotating at lightning speed.

Kobe’s reactions were perfect though and he dodged by leaning to the side, never taking his hands out of his pockets.

Mark slammed into the opposite side of the cage, instantly grabbing onto it and loading himself again.

“You cocky son of a bitch, that won’t work twice.”

He launched himself towards Kobe and again, Kobe dodged easily.

“It won’t work just twice, it’ll work any time I want.”

“I’m gonna digest the shit out of you, dickhead!”

3 times. 4 times. 5, 6, 7. No matter how many times Mark tried to end the fight, Kobe was too fast for him.

“I’ve watched your tape Mark, you’re too one dimensional, that makes you predictable, counterable. All I had to do was stand in front of oncoming traffic for a weekend to train, you’re nothing like the i40.”

“You think I’m even trying right now???? I could end this right now if I wanted to.”

“You’re cocky too, that’s exploitable. Not as composed as your brother, that’s why he’s ranked number one.”

“I’ll kill you.”

Mark launched himself at Kobe, twice as fast as he had any other time. For a split second, everyone was sure he’d won. But Kobe didn’t dodge this time. He brought his knee up sharply and cracked Mark in the jaw the moment before there would’ve been a mouth sized hole through his torso.

“And you have a short fuse, that’s your fatal flaw.”

Mark’s neck twisted around in an unnatural manner and then his body followed it up into the air. He was dead before he hit the ground. But there was no cheer for Kobe, only incessant chanting from the crowd.

“Vore! Vore! Vore!”

They want to see what they paid for. More of a need than a desire, a ritual chant that compels the victor to vore.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m getting to it.”

Kobe walked over to Mark’s twitching body, stuck its right arm in his mouth and slurped up the rest like a noodle. In an instant, the world forgot about Mark Eaton, there was no physical evidence remaining that could back up his existence. All that was left was a winner.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, Kobe Motherfucking Steakhouse!”

The crowd went absolutely delirious. Chants of Kobe rang around the arena. If this had been a senior professional match, there would’ve been ample time for Kobe to bask in the glory but since it was the juniors, things were running on a tighter schedule. Kobe was led out of the cage and into the claws of ravenous reporters.

“Oh my god, Kobe absolutely killed him!” Cayenne squealed.

“He got away with that, he needs to learn to not play with his food, end things quickly. Antics like that will get him into trouble in the college game.”

Cayenne thought about putting Vorelando in his place but decided against it. He had, after all, decided to come in the end. She knew being here was hard for him and she wasn’t about to make it any harder.

The lights went dark for a second time.

“And now for the second matchup of the evening… in the corner to my right…”

The spotlight lit up Clark to the expected rapture. Completely identical to his brother except for the fact that he was still alive.

“It’s the corkscrew child, Clark Eaton!”

The crowd were even louder for Clark than they had been for Mark. They may have enjoyed Kobe’s underdog victory, but they could not stand to see both of their hometown boys lose in the finals.

“And in the corner not to my right… Barry ‘Big Berry’ Juiceman!”

The boos followed course and were also more intense than in the previous matchup.

Neither of them said anything as the countdown started, both were so focused on their matchup they didn’t have time for smack talk. Clark loaded himself up just as his brother had and Berry got into a defensive stance.

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s time to dig in!”

His screams drowned out by the crowd, in a less than a moment, half of Berry’s body was gone.