My Original GT/Vore One-shots

Guess Who's For Breakfast?

      Waking up late morning on a Saturday was positively bliss. I always had the weekends off from the Goliath Continental Bank where I worked as a security guard. Lately I'd been overworked during the week, hence it took a lot of yawning and stretching before lurching myself out of bed. My last few eight hour shifts consisted primarily of shooing away tiny human protestors outside the bank. Goliath Continental still refuses to open bank accounts for humans, so branches are being picketed nationwide by mankind and size-traitor giants.

      Unbalanced and half asleep I walked barefoot into my kitchen. It was my hollowed out echoing, empty stomach that urged me from the comfort of my bedsheets. As the coffee perked my brain aroused little by little. Time for a hearty day off breakfast!" I announced opening my human cabinet.

       A series of tiny yelps and whimpers came from the overhead cabinet as I pulled it open. Looking gleefully upon the eleven or twelve humans corralled in the cabinet, I wondered what I wanted for breakfast. An unexpected benefit to having throngs of tinies in front of my workplace from open until close, was many didn't notice a few missing. Among the tiny crowd of people one-thirtieth my size were a wide diversity of mankind, although mostly young female as that's my favorite variety of human to eat. "Well, well who's my breakfast this morning?!" I asked rhetorically, to see them cower against the shelving in fear.

    "Fuck you!" a surprisingly bold and mouthy tiny brunette screamed and threw an uncooked spiraled piece of pasta at me. It fell downward a pitiful distance from my face. Eyes full of tears, the agitator stamped her little foot. Cursing me, as apparently I had eaten her mom for dinner the night before. Have to take her word for it.

       First thing in the morning I didn't want to eat something with such a spicy kick as that lady who tossed the dry noodle. I looked at my other tiny options thoughtfully. A few wept and audibly begged to be spared. Since I already had two clean skillets on the stovetop I decided to make French toast and bacon, so I buttered one pan and fired up the gas. Multitasking and peeling the raw bacon I finally decided on that morning's Longpig selections.

          With the bacon beginning to crackle and sizzle I washed raw meat off my hands, so I could grab the two pieces of Longpig. Using both hands, mouth moistening, I plucked the wide-hipped tan female and a husky non-binary person with spiky brown hair out of the cabinet. With the doomed humans selected I let the cupboard door swing shut, and entrapping the survivors again. As they processed the fate below them on the warming pans, one human began to scream and weep and the other stuffed their fist in their mouth to stop their sobbing as tears trickled. Once I forked an egg-washed slice of bread on one skillet the frying applauding sounds drowned out the protests.

      "Unruly humans," I grunted as I made my plate when I was done cooking. The spiky haired one put up a real fight when I wrapped them in a strip of bacon. But I suppose the grease burns may have been uncomfortable. My sweet tan female was silenced with fear sitting atop a melting snowbank or butter. When I drizzled the syrup over her head and shoulders she whimpered in protest. But I think the thick sticky syrup weighed her mouth down as well as her limbs. I heard no more screams or resistance from her, even when I stuck a fork in the sticky brown bread beside her.

       Bacon is always delicious but especially when wrapped around a human! Imagine a bacon flavored sausage! Such a foodgasm you've never had. After devouring my extra meaty side I tucked into my French toast. Syrup had fused the woman's ample rear to a corner of crust. This corner including the human ended up being my third forkful to my mouth. If the syrup didn't weigh down the woman the tongue and the roof of my mouth did. Savoring the lovely undertone of cinnamon on the woman I swallowed. As my fork and knife clattered down I felt some movement in my guts.

        Voices echoed somewhere in my sphincter. Wondering vaguely what they could be talking about inside my belly, I saw I was running late. I needed to get back to the human cabinet and figure out which one I would take in my lunchbox sandwich. I remembered the malcontent who threw the noodle and smiled. Little thousand island dressing would do her some good. Until around noon when she would thud into my belly perhaps in time to say farewell to her friends before their big descent.