This choice: Head down to the cum works • Go Back... While you were a giant back home in the jungle among your kind and fellow tribal island-dwellers, you've merely been amazonian to most mainlanders - and here at the Stadium many tower over you. It is due to this that you truly relish how the nostalgically tiny fox attendant stumbling into your protruding gut reminds you of being huge back home... and why you linger in place to enjoy the feel of his face pressed in your plush belly as long as you can. It is perhaps due to this that even though you fade back into invisibility with your parting declaration, the short and stout attendant still manages to quickly stand from his seat to bar your way with spread arms.
While forced to a pleasurable stop from the fox unwittingly hitting your arm-sized dong and melon-sized balls with a walking-pace and surprisingly sturdy lariat for his size, you reflexively fade back into view.
You flex your prehensile member and have it massage your tender sack, and as you do so you find both a piece of thin fabric and a piece of paper shoved into your hands.
"Put that on," the Fox says as he gets back in his seat, his short legs dangling from the seat, "and read that."
Letting the cloth drape free of your hand you see it's a dress... or rather, it's something like a dress. You're pretty sure clothes that are as see-through as glass, and several inches too short to even begin covering one's genitals don't normally count as a 'dress'. That said, it's nice and loose, and your potbellied, bottom heavy figure has no trouble fitting into the thing. The way it flares out above your hips actually flatters your thick and heavy ass. You also don't have to worry about the hem rubbing against the base of your long, prehensile tail. In fact, you kind of like how the dress is a bit invisible too; much more your style than most clothes! It's a bit fussy up top though - eventually you have to give up on trying to keep your perky breasts and their puffy nipples from slipping free of the confines of the dress.
Checking over the pamphlet you were handed, you skim the so-titled Rules and Regulations of Cockvore Stadium while loitering in its entrance.
1) Hermaphrodite competitors must wear regulation - and in your opinion decidedly sheer, transparent and short - sundresses at all times during their stay at the Cum-Works, while males have to wear thongs. Exceptions are allowed only for showering and entering the arena proper... or conspicuously undefined 'other' necessary activities.
2) While in the Cum-Works - defined as the connected trio of locker rooms, shower rooms and practice sparring rooms - no vore can be fatal. Only victims taken on the arena floor can be digested, it seems... though given some of the gurgling-sacked competitors you see exiting the Cum-Works, that rule doesn't look consistently enforced.
3) No teams are allowed, each person must fight for themselves in the arena, one on one. However, the stadium administration does seem to encourage making friends - you even see a few listed ways competitors can arrange to meet off-field. For all it's given a pleasant presentation, it looks like there are ways you can get staff to force another competitor to come - coupled with the loose enforcing of the ban on out-of-arena voring, it seems a system made to be exploited.
4) All staff members are to be respected, and any directions they give are to be taken as official stadium policy, and per that obeyed without exception. The Stadium's employees have been specially trained, so don't bother trying to vore them... or so it says. You certainly don't see anyone making an attempt at one of the staff, but with how the rest of the rules work you wonder if there are exceptions there, too.
Past those there's a 5th 'rule' that lightheartedly encourages all participants to have fun - well, that's certainly the plan!
Now properly informed and, it would seem, in compliance with the rules you once again head towards the Cum-Works, and this time the fox doesn't bat an eye.
Giving a towering, thick-figured herm komodo dragon and her enormous package - which has got to outweigh your whole body, wow - a wide berth, you push through the doors. At your first look inside the Cum-Works, you can't help but get drippy. You see sexy dickgirls and guys of all breeds and sizes, each packing delicious looking cockmeat down below, and you salivate so hard your stretchy tongue has to lap furiously to keep drool from soaking your dress. You watch herms taking off normal clothes as they prepare for the arena and give anyone watching a free stripshow - your throbbingly erect dick spurts clear pre, its tip pulsing in anticipation from the sight. Fierce looking men and herms alike in stadium uniform prowl around and shove what you assume are rulebreakers down hungry cocks, and your pussy is drenched at the way they feast with such a dominant flair. Your puffy donut of a butthole puckers as you see people being both safely released from bulging sacks... as well as discretely gurgled into cum.
Deep within your belly and balls alike, you tingle as you notice that most of the room's inhabitants... have proportionately larger junk than you, a situation you never encountered back home; how excitingly different.
Just the locker room part of the Cum-Works is a sinful wonderland of all things cock, and it takes you a moment to look past that to see the other two sections.
On one side are the showers, the only part of the Cum-Works where you're freely allowed the naked freedom you so enjoy. It's a vast communal room with many walls sectioning off the sides into quasi-rooms of their own. It looks equally built for public bath orgies as well as having private areas for more discrete perversion... and it seems the competitors already there have had the same idea. You see copious amounts of fucking, cockvoring and gurgling sacks alike, and with everyone naked you can't tell if there are any staff in the showers. Hulking figures gulping down their diminutive bathmates by the handful, dainty figures struggling to get behemoth bathers down their cockslits and everything in between - such lewd performances everywhere you look. It's as lawless as things get in the Cum-Works... and the perfect place for you to get the most out of your invisibility trick. You wonder just what you could accomplish, out of sight in such a warm and wet place~
On the other side is a room with padded foam mats covering most of the floor, and sweaty men and herms alike grappling with their hands and jousting with their engorged pricks. Heavy-looking rhinos, thickly muscled bulls, leanly athletic canines, powerful dragons - there's no shortage of proverbial big fish that are pretty much throwing the rest of the wrestlers around in the sparring. What's more, some of these strong and dominant fighters have distinctly churning sacks, despite the Stadium staff doubling as referees in the practice room. Not that avoiding them would do you all that much good - even back home where you outsized all of your prey, you were more of an ambusher than a fighter. Too much fat and not enough muscle in your bottom-heavy and soft frame, and that's only the start of your problems. Geckos, you feel, just aren't naturally built to struggle for their meals - your flexibly jointed limbs and sticky-textured skin merely makes you particularly easy to grab and contort. Why, you bet plenty of the wrestlers smaller than you could still overpower you... a heady thought. Still, besides invisibly lurking in safety, you could try and only challenge those that seem to follow the rules and let their bested foes back out of their dicks. ...Or if you're feeling nihilistic you could go for the wanton rule-floaters and have a hell of a sendoff~
The locker room and its constant impromptu strip shows of hermflesh and manmeat, the showers with its naked orgies and shamelessly prevalent cocksnacking, and the sparring mats with their variety of sweaty practitioners... for a moment it's a challenge just to pick.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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