"Last Words to a Last Meal" [Art + Writing]

[Contains Suggestive, Light Blood / Menace, Oral Vore / Mass Vore, Digestion]

[Story contains descriptions of Combat / Peril, Oral Vore, Digestion, Menace, Light Blood]

“COMMANDER!!!”

A piercing call came over the commlink, loud enough to be heard over the sound of blaring alarms and red laser fire. Heavy combat boots thudded down wide corridors, accompanied by the industrial ambiance that already permeated these cursed walls.

The Commander was deep in enemy territory, and he knew he was running out of time. The leader of the Collective, a being known as Overseer M, had been waging a campaign of subjugation and fear against the Alliance, with city after city falling to their iron grip. In a desperate play to strike a winning blow against this horrific enemy, the Alliance had greenlit a covert strike operation directly in the heart of the Obsidian Collective – the massive bunker that housed enemy intelligence, resources, and the Overseer themself. The Commander had, with a great deal of confidence, picked six of his finest men and outfitted them accordingly. They were to go in as quietly as they could, assassinate the Overseer, and collect as much intel as possible. Logistical sabotage was an optional objective as well, but the Commander had assured his superiors, with a smirk, that they could take down the Collective’s bunker without being seen. The best men for the job were coming along, you see, and there simply wasn’t any chance of failure.

The final remaining agent on the Commander’s team was still screaming over the commlink. Their pride had made them sloppy, and though they were able to break through the Collective’s defenses, they had vastly underestimated their enemy’s surveillance capabilities. Within moments of their entry, alarms had begun to blare, and black-clad troopers had spilled into the hallways, their blank red eyes affixed on the Commander’s comparatively tiny force.

Five of his men had been captured. The Overseer’s men, with their glassy red-lensed eyes, had captured them alive amidst a hail of gunfire. The Commander himself was pressed up against a few fallen crates, desperately reloading his rifle to further defend his shakily taken ground. Even as his last charge pack was slotted into his firearm, he knew his time was up.

“COMMANDER-”

A final, desperate cry rang out over the encrypted frequency, before cutting away to static. The Commander’s face blanched, his eyes staring down the shiny black hall that stretched before him. A dozen of the Overseer’s troops, all sporting the same red, blank lenses, marched on his position. He aimed his firearm, looking to at least take a few down before he could be captured, but something made him pause in the moment.

When his crew had first been spotted, the footsteps of the enemy combatants were frenetic, scattered – not uncommon for a force reacting to a surprise attack. The soldiers that now approached him bore no such imprecision. The marching was uniform, calculated, and more importantly...unhurried.

The cold dread of realization wrapped around the Commander’s heart, freezing him dead in his tracks.

They knew he was alone. They knew he could not beat them. They knew his time was up.

As the dead-eyed soldiers circled around him, he dropped his weapon and raised his hands, attempting to remain stoic in this moment of decisive defeat. The soldiers drew no further weapons, instead beginning to speak in a single, monotone voice.

“What a nice surprise. It is so very rare to have guests for dinner. Come, Commander. Let us make you comfortable.”

With ever mounting horror, the Commander realized that, in this moment, it wasn’t the soldiers speaking – the Overseer must be controlling them in some way, speaking through them! Could they also see through those red lenses? Hundred of collective eyes, staring in a hundred directions… no wonder his team had been spotted so quickly.

Without a struggle, the Commander bowed his head and walked with the mob. What else could he do? If he was being taken alive, the Overseer must want to speak with him. Even if he were tortured, he would still have some time to think of a way to escape and free his men.

Even in the face of utter defeat, as he was bound in chains and locked behind red Laz-gate bars, he held onto hope. He would find a way out of this…

---

He didn’t get the time he had hoped for. The Commander had waited for merely an hour before the bars dissipated, two massive soldiers waiting to take him away. He backed against the wall, not wanting to make this easy for his captors, but their size made it trivial to just carry him between them. He struggled against his bonds, against the iron grip of the dead-eyed soldiers, but it wasn’t any use. He was being carried away, whether he wanted to or not.

At the very least, he could use his time to gather further intel on the layout of the bunker. Should he be able to break free, this would grant him an advantage in escaping this den of evil. The hallways were painted a deep grey, with black and red cabling running exposed along the beams & panels. As they walked, they passed vast windows that allowed one to see into the many industrial spaces of the complex, many soldiers working to further build weapons of war. Strangely, while the working people wore the same red goggles as the soldiers, the didn’t care the same opaque, red glow as the Commander’s current captors…

Before the Commander could make any assumptions, he was snapped back to reality by a jolt, his two jailers halting at a vast, black iron blast door. A beep, a hiss, and the glossy panels slid apart, revealing the space within.

Windows covered the left and right walls, allowing for a relatively unbroken view of the complexes below. The floor was made of black concrete, the ceiling a mixture of steel beams and countless cables, all snaking towards the back of the room. A red screen dominated the far wall, covered in what appeared to be a map of the various cities the Collective had already taken, and had yet to take. In front of that screen sat the largest desk the Commander had ever seen, a dark mahogany wood that would have been impressive, if not for the size of the figure that stood before it.

There was only one person it could possibly be. The Commander was transfixed, a mixture of awe and horror in his gaze as he took in the sight. A massive, feminine figure stood well over fifteen feet tall, casting a looming shadow over the room. A short black tunic, accented with a red stripe, stretched over hefty white curves. While this figure didn’t seem to be wearing shoes, their legs – each build like marble columns – were clad in dainty black lace stockings, which stretched nearly as high as their impossibly wide hips. As the Commander’s gaze lifted, his neck craning at the absolute size of this person – woman? – he gulped. Her belly was massive, her bust even more so, her uniform straining to hold such weight in check. A figure like this would almost be alluring, if it weren’t for the fear that struck his heart when he looked at her face.

Black lips, curled in a cruel grin, the sharpest teeth the Commander had ever seen gleaming with eager saliva. A glossy black visor covering her eyes, cut through with a thin, red, glowing line. Her close cropped grey hair was wreathed in a crown made from two black blades, each glittering menacingly under the light of the screens. Though the soldiers had finally stopped, the Commander almost begged them to take him back to prison, to a torture chamber, ANYWHERE but here!

With a wordless nod from the Overseer, the two soldiers dropped the Commander on the floor with a heavy thud, before departing the office, the heavy door sliding shut with a finality that further set dread into the Commander’s stomach.

The room bore a heavy silence that unnerved the captured agent, but the voice that emanated from the Overseer scared him further.

“And then there was one.”

A simple, dispassionate phrase, borne on a voice like cracking gravel, like a buzz saw digging into your flesh. Though she stood many feet away from him, the Commander could feel her words in his chest, as if she were speaking from deep within him. He shook, but held his ground, staying silent.

She began to walk toward the cowering agent, her footsteps heavy, slow, assured in their direction. The Commander dug deep within himself for any shred of remaining confidence, of some sort of mental strength, but with every step, the fear grew within him until he shut his eyes. He was certain, she was going to kill him -

Instead of the swift pain of execution, he could feel himself being lifted into the air. He reflexively curled into a rough ball shape, his eyes opening for a moment to see her malevolent grin only a few feet from his own face. The inscrutable black visor seemed to both stare deep within him, all the while blocking any chance for him to see an emotion, a thought, anything the Overseer might not want him to see.

“At last, a true Commander of the Alliance…” she purred, a note of disdain for his station clear in her tone, “We may have fought many of you on the battlefield, but to bring yourself here, into my den? A rare treat indeed~”

She’s toying with me, he thought, his confidence welling for but a moment. “Let me go this instant!” He managed to growl, mustering a look of defiance into her visor, “How dare you lay hands on me, you scum!”

“Scum?” she chuckled, a meaty paw pressed in pretend shock to her ample chest, “How terribly rude. You would address the mistress of the house upon which you trespass in such a way?”

He said nothing, choosing instead to spit on the clean surface of her visor.

She remained silent, stock still. Her paw moved to her cleavage, producing a blood red handkerchief to wipe away his offending action.

“Perhaps I have struck a nerve…” she intoned, a measure of mirth removed from her voice. “I merely brought you here as a courtesy. After all, if I truly wanted you dead, I could have gunned you down like the Alliance dog you are.”

The hand grasping his chains tightened, putting an immense amount of pressure on the Commander’s ribs. If the sight of her lifting him so easily hadn’t convinced him, her grip showed just how truly strong she was – and how easy it would be for her to crush him in her grasp. Perhaps a less defiant approach made more sense.

“What courtesy are you offering me?” he managed to say, finding it hard to breathe, much less speak.

“The courtesy of a choice. You have an immense amount of Alliance knowledge in that little head of yours, knowledge I am rather keen to acquire. Knowing what you know could save so very many casualties in the long run, would you not agree?”

Though her voice was abrasive, her tone was clearly one of dispassionate transaction. The Commander turned away for a moment, refusing to meet her gaze.

“You...aim to take over the rest of the Alliance, don’t you…?”

“’Take over?’ You misunderstand, little fish. I am liberating your lands, taking them from the incapable hands of your leadership and bringing them prosperity. The only reason I fight at all is due to the resistance your generals are so keen to maintain. If I were to know their whereabouts, supply lines, their coded frequencies, I could minimize the amount of innocent life lost. This whole sham of a conflict could be over, and you could go home in glory~”

The Commander was aghast. She spoke like some resistance leader, and yet she had slaughtered hundreds, thousands of soldiers! Against his own efforts, he could feel his mind begin to put together the pattern of targets hit by Collective forces – strictly military, only against other combatants…

He shook his head. No! This was the enemy!

“And if I don’t help you?”

Her grin returned, black lip splitting to show off those sharp teeth mere inches from his face. Being this close allowed him to see, to his horror, the thin trickle of blood that oozed from between her serrated fangs.

“Then you will have made the same choice as your men, and will receive the same punishment.”

It was only now that the Commander could hear the gurgling.

His gaze shot towards the Overseer’s midsection, and against his best efforts, he gasped. Despite how tight her uniform had been, it didn’t seem to help hide the bulges made by something struggling frantically within her belly. A paw, a shoulder, a face pressed against the thick pelt of this monster, their muffled cries for help now clear in the horrified silence.

“N-no…” he gasped, tears building in his eyes, “NO! Why? Why would you do this?!”

“I only wish for your help.” she purred, nonchalantly letting out a soft belch before wiping away the blood and spittle. Precious air released from their prison…

“They could have helped. All they needed to do was give up their codes and a little intel, and this could have all been avoided.” she murmured, patting her immense gut.

“That didn’t mean you had to eat them!”

“Perhaps, but what would have happened if you were released? Do not pretend as if you would not go to your superiors with all the precious data you collected just by being here. They could have simply given me a few facts, but no. They were so dogged in their devotion to your precious cause, to you…” she growled, slapping a protrusion that pressed from her moaning gut, “They would rather melt away than disobey an authority that cared not for their safety.”

The Commander looked away, but knew that she was glaring at him from behind that visor.

“Their blood is on your hands, Commander,” she said with disdain, the acrid scent of acids on her breath, “How many more will have to join them before you give me what I want~?”

He was shaking now, harder than before, knowing she was right. He had chosen them to come along, had drafted the foolhardy plan that indirectly lead to the pain they now endured. Had he been more careful, less prideful, perhaps he’d be having a drink with them right now…

“I will say this one final time. The choice is yours, little fish. Either serve me, aid in bringing this senseless conflict to a swift end…” she paused, holding him so close that her nose practically pressed against his chains. His fearful gaze bore as deeply into the visor as he could muster, his rapidly shifting eyes searching for a single ounce of mercy…

There was none to be found.

“...or join the rest of your crew. Choose wisely~”

•...I'm just now realizing that I've drawn three separate versions of Bailey this month - DnD, Original & now Villain. I hope y'all don't mind an extra helping of bear pudge~!

I've had Overseer M on the shelf for about a year or so, with her only making occasional appearances on stream or in videos for social media... but now? I'm thinking there could be some fun Alternate Universe writing in the future for her!

(Thanks to EpauletteNerd for letting me borrow your OC~<3)

What do y'all think? I wanna hear your thoughts below ^^

•I hope you enjoyed! Thank you, truly, for your immense support~ <3