Title: Still Life
Author: GreyWolfe
© 2003
All rights reserved. This story is not to be reprinted, or redistributed without the author's permission.
If you wish to use the stories, or anything copyrighted by the author, please E-mail me, and I'll try and forward your request to the author.
[title:still life]
[version:1.01, bastardized]
[date:23 january 2003]
[alteration history]:[27 february 2003]
[this version]
[updated version number/bastardization status]
[some small editorial changes]
[story no longer takes place after the depression.]
[re-assuringly now spelt correctly]
[picture count reduced to hundreds, not thousands]
[some dangling apostraphes removed]
[unlcoked now correctly spelt as unlocked]
[quoted speech is now correctly attributed]
[aether becomes void]
[stray whips reigned in]
[fear "almost" at the core of me, reworded slightly]
[lassoo's spelling changed to lasso]
["much to my horror" --> "much to my surprise."]
[separates now spelt correctly]
["from jim and i" --> "from jim and me"]

[alteration history]:[23 january 2003]
[no updates or fixes]
[author's note]
[still life]
[one:such a struggle getting through these changes]
[two:the house in the wooods]
[three:and all the while the world is turning to noise]
[four:no way out]
[copyright notice]
[author's note:]
this story came from three sources:

when i sat down to write this, i'd been thinking off and
on about something i'd written in an essay about vore -
about how few stories ever explore the idea of a 'trophy'
room - how there doesn't seem to be anything beyond the
'moment' of swallowing the meal whole.

the other thing that struck me as interesting was that
often, there's no evidence of the swallowing even taking
place. in part, i'd addressed some of this in "god's dog"
and would have left it there, were it not for a trailer
for a movie i'd seen while i was on holiday. i'm not
sure what it's called, but it features robin williams as
a guy behind a counter in a drug store who develops
camera spools for clients.

the first source for this story comes right from that movie
clip. one of the images - that of a guy who has
*thousands* of pictures of these people tacked to his wall,
intrigued me. it's something that's been explored in other
places, but not here. the idea that someone likes someone
else [or something else] enough that they build a 'shrine'
to that thing.

the association here is that the guy doing the
photographing has a kind of serial/sexual fixation on the
act that he's photographing. some of which did, i think,
come through in the story.

the second place this one comes from is a picture on my
hard drive. i had [pre-1998] a bunch of pictures of people
i'd collected from various online hangouts. this
particular picture got lost in a post-1998 purge - and when
i rediscovered it at a friends house, i asked him to send
it along. in essence, it's a picture of a very furry,
fairly old bear from the side. you can see him sitting on
a rock, holding his balls and looking down past his belly to
his erect dick. when i remembered the picture, i remember
thinking that a man like that might not be wholly and
utterly averse to being very huge. and very in control of

the final [rather odd] place that this story came from is a
peter gabriel album named 'up' - mostly, the chapter
headings are vocal snippets from that album that i found
suited the mood entirely. when i got to writing this, the
first time around, i'd put in one or two 'chapter' headings
from the song, but finally, i realized that the whole
*story* could work with these snippets...so they got added

in any event...i hope you enjoy this story.

23 january 2003
[still life]
[one]:[such a struggle getting through these changes]
"i'd like to tell you a story. you may as well get
comfortable, because this migh take a while.

i suppose i should say thankyou for the sex and pardon my
puffing on this pipe, but this is how i unwind. the last
few months have been a little strenous.

in any event - i'm going to have to start at the beginning,
so you'll understand everything.

when i was twelve, i got my first camera.
it wasn't a spectacular camera - not like you see them
today. it wasn't digital and you couldn't zoom the lens at
all. you took black and white photographs with it and you
developed them yourself. when you got really good at it,
you took pictures of things and then hid the pictures away.
in those days, having a camera invariably meant you were a

i suppose, if those boys could see me now they'd flinch. i
think i grew up straighter than the lot of them. that's not
why i grew the beard, though. or the gut. i'm just
comfortable this way.

anyway. in those days, there was a much bigger state fair
in boston than there is now. you could enter into
competitions and win things. big things. and while i
didn't really want to show off my talent with a camera, it
was going to be a shitty cold season if i didn't do

my parents - in case you hadn't guessed - were dirt poor.
it was right after the second great war. maybe it was fifty
one or fifty two, i forget, but the point was that it was
going to be a harsh winter season unless something got done.

the camera had been a gift, from two years before, that they
could ill afford, but my mother...i'm not sure. maybe she
saw me drawing. or maybe she just understood. i wasn't
going to grow up to be a college ball star and i wasn't
going to grow up to be the sharpest tool in the shed either.
if i fit anywhere, it was going to be painting, or drawing
stuff. and the camera seemed like a good once-off deal.

so there was this state fair. and i submitted pictures,
secretly. and i won.

it was enough to keep winter at bay. we could buy logs for
the fire and extra blankets and hire extra hands on the
farm. and our crops were saved that year.

so...having convinced my father that the camera was a viable
source of income, i started using it to take pictures. and
a strange thing happened. the more pictures i took, the
more i realized that i was looking at a world trapped in
tiny pieces. each piece strung together with my camera.

there were some moments...that i would capture and hold and
keep forever, on photograph, but there were others that i
couldn't recreate. each of these pictures represented a
microcosm - a small part - of someone else's life. it was
their 'still life.' - and it happened a lot quicker and more
naturally than painters could hope to pin it down.

as time went by, cameras changed. the stuff you see now is
all borne out of the stuff i was playing with when i was a
kid, but i've still opted for very simple cameras and
lenses. the reason for that - and the reason i haven't
changed to digitial photographs, or moving pictures, is
simple. i like the complexity of taking pictures with the
most basic equipment available.

and now we come to the heart of the story. and the thing i
wish to show you.

as i grew older, i realized that there were very specific
things i liked photographing. in fact, certain things that
turned out to be erotic to photograph. one of those things
turned out to be sexual acts, but that shouldn't come as
much of a surprise, since you've consented to that already.

the other thing i like photographing is death, but a very
specific kind of death.

it's...a little difficult to explain, but i'll try.

i'd advise that you stop squirming like that. i tied your
hands behind your back for a reason. i've had a few too
many boys like you run away.

and it'd be a lot easier if you leaned forward - otherwise i
have to tie you to the chair and that won't do.

that's better.

now, where was i?

oh yes - one night, while i was out driving, looking for
something to photograph, or looking to pick up a young man,
i came across something i'd never witnessed before. on the
highway, out at the truckstop, there was but one huge
vehicle. the back was open and it didn't look like there
was anyone in the driver's seat. so i pulled over to make
sure everything was ok. i took my camera with me - just in
case, but i also had a baseball bat.

this must have been in the late fifties. maybe the early

time to get up. this is the part where it's rather show
than tell.

that's it. one foot in front of the other. it's ok. i'm
right behind you.

now...when i got to the back of the truck, the interior was
quite dark, but there was one light on and it was just
enough that i could see this..."
[two]:[the house in the woods]
as the huge man leads me, he talks, reassuringly, but it's
difficult to not be scared - well, it was ok until he
started talking about death. he takes me by my arm and
leads me down a hallway, until we reach a door. standing
back from me he pushes the door open. on the wall - as i'd
expected to see, there are photographs.

not just twenty, or thirty, but hundreds. and hundreds.
they crowd each other and push at the edges of the wall.
some are bigger than others, but most are just ordinary
pictures. as he ushers me into the room, there's a dizzying
sense of vertigo - all of these pictures are of one man.
and all of them are taken...

his voice washes over me.

"that's the first time, in the back of the truck. that's
jim. and that's his supper. see the clothes strewn around
him? when i got there, jim was about half-way done.
couldn't spit him back out and couldn't much hide what he
was in the process of doing. i didn't know what to do...i
was watching - and i was horrified - but i was also...

at my side, the man who is much larger than me reaches down
for his dick with one hand, still holding onto the other.
he's getting...turned on by this?

"i was in automatic. i dropped the baseball bat and just
took picture after picture after picture...watching him push
the boy down into his bearded mouth and then struggle up to
face me. i don't even think i heard what he said, until he
reached for the camera."

"but that was the point where he backed off. he was full -
see...look at his huge, distended gut - he'd just eaten the
boy and there was no way he was going to catch me."

"i coulnd't...believe it when i saw the size of him...i
think i must have shot a river of come in my jeans."

behind me, he's putting his hard dick against my behind
again - and this time i can't even pretend to refuse him,
because of the restraints.

his breathing deepends some.

then he pulls me away from that particular section of the
wall and i can see that *all* of the pictures are of jim.
jim in various states of undress.
jim in various states of pleasure with young men.
jim in front of a house, holding a kitten to his scuffy,
bearded cheeks.
jim in a theme park. thin flattop being brushed by the wind
as he thunders along on a rollercoaster.
but mostly, there's pictures of jim eating.
thousands of them.

in one picture, the boy is tied up by his hands and legs
against a four-poster bed. jim has unlocked the ankle
restraints and is shoving his feet into his hungry, bearded
mouth. the picture must have been taken from a little way
away from the bed, because jim is *still* huge - belly empty
or not.
in another, jim's sitting - with the boy facing the camera
and jim's arms around his belly, playing with his dick,
while jim's bearded mouth covers the crown of his head.
the boy is screaming.
in another, a boy's dangling from a crane. a whole, fucking
crane. and the crane is slowly lowering the boy into his
waiting mouth.
in all of them, jim looks aroused.

behind me, the thick cock that i'd just been entertaining
enters my ass again.

"you can imagine my surprise when jim told me to keep the
pictures. in fact, he said, he wanted to see them when they
were done. he gave me a card...i still have it...here...

and with that i'm down on my hands and knees, with the huge
bear of a man fucking into my ass...i look up - up into the
face of a boy who's being swallowed from down below - his
hands and feet tied up while he dangles - jim's bearded
mouth peering over his buttcrack. and i scream. i just let
the panic go in one roaring instant.

"oh yeah, boy," he mutters, thickly. "that's it. fear is
the key to the kingdom. fear is the catalyst for the

i close my eyes as what must be three hundred and fifty
pounds towers over me - thrusting me to the ground, heavily.

finally, i black out.
[three]:[and all the while the world is turning to noise]
"ah. i see you've finally woken up."

i sit up - my hands and feet are untied. facing me is the
biggest man i've seen, bigger, even, than gavin, who bought
me here.

"how far did gavin get with his little story? did he tell
you about how i was curious about the pictures? how i
wanted to see what they'd turned out like?"

i shake my head.

the huge man just rumbles and scratches his enormous, furry
belly as he does so.

"his stories are getting shorter and shorter, i'm afraid.

well. he probably showed you the room?"

i nod.

"then you know what i do to young men like you."

it's not a question. it's a fact.

i nod, again. not daring to open my mouth.

"well. after that first evening, he came back to see me.
each time he came, he'd bring a boy with. and we'd toy with
him. make no mistake. they were all over eighteen and they
were all willing to have sex with either of us. what
intrigued gavin the most was how they'd do as dinner. of
ourse...having my appetite, what intrigued me the most was
having them for dinner."

and, with this, he laughs. it wouldn't sound so unpleasant
if it wasn't under these circumstances.

"alas and alack, i'm shooting ahead of his story, some."

"in time, i figured out that he must be getting off to what
was happening. and we made a deal - you see, he couldn't
go to the police with what he had. not after the second
night, anyway. by that time he was far too much an
accomplice to gently be told off. so i promised him all the
voyeuristic pleasure he could take - him watching me eat as
many boys as he liked - as long as he supplied them. he
could do what he liked to them, as long as they ended up
here, unscathed. and while you were sleeping, i checked
you. you seem fine."

i stand up and he watches. in the dim light, i'm aware of
just how big he is, by the shadow he's casting on the
opposite wall. his flattop has shades of grey in it and
his moustache and beard are both salt-and-pepper. from
here, i watch as he lays on his side, breathing in and
breathing out...one huge arm supporting him, while the other
scratches the surface of the bed. i can't see it here, but
in one of the blown up pictures of him, on the wall in
gavin's viewing room, i recall seeing hair everywhere. he's
like a fairly furry, four hundred and fifty pound human

"come here. it's been a while since i sucked someone off
and you look like you haven't had sex in ages."

at this, he rumbles again. i take it that this is a sign
of mirth.

knowing there isn't much else i can do, i slowly move
forward. one thick hand goes around my narrow waist...
gently holding my butt - cupping it - while his bearded
lips slip around my dick. pushing it all the way in. for
a while, he just pleasantly bobs up and down on it.

taking my dick out of his mouth, he squeezes it in one huge
hand while he kisses my stomach. "i see you've been worked
pretty hard tonight."

he parts my asscheeks and bends me over a bit, his husky
voice whispering near my face.."smile for the camera."

and behind me, somewhere, a shutter goes 'click.'

he stands me back up again, squeezing and gently slapping
my ass. "what are we going to do with you?"

i wait, expectantly. the fear is back.

"why not sit here, in my lap, so i can get a good look at

and i do. it takes him a long, painful while, but he traces
the outline of my body with a thick finger. feeling my
small, but furry body everywhere. he grins when he comes to
my beard, seeing how long it is. "soft. i bet you have to
wash and brush that every day?" - i nod. he's right, i do.
"i bet it doesn't get you much action with men?"
he's right again. that's part of the reason i was so
surprised when gavin invited me up to his loft.
he shrugs - his whole body moving with the motion. "men are
so fickle."
"nice bush you got there, boy." i blush, profusely in the
half-light. his huge hand cups it and holds it up for
inspection and back in that void the lens goes 'click'

"unfortunately for you, i'm not much in a mood for fucking
tonight. haven't had anything to eat all day."

his belly rumbles in testament to this.

he feels me suddenly tremble against him - and i get up to
make my way to wherever the camera is. surely gavin must be
able to help?

without so much as me getting to my feet, a huge hand
presses down on my shoulder - keeping me in place and in
jim's lap.

"aw, fuck, boy. it ain't gonna hurt."

for a long, tense moment, he holds me and then he grins.
"well. i'll tell you what. i haven't lassooed a horse in
about ten years. i think we might make that work."

and, with that, the walls of the little room grow.
and grow. and grow. and we're in a house-sized stadium.
he grins and pats my dick once for good luck, reaches into
his bedside chest of drawers, pulls out a cowboy hat, and a
pipe and goes to stand in the middle of the ring.

"let's see how many laps you can make it round before i
catch you. i'll even make it interesting. make it ten
times around and i'll let you go. hell, i'm so outta
practice, you ought to have a shot at that."

and with that, he brandishes a horsewhip - and whips in the
direction i'm standing. whether i want to or not, the whip
will force me to run. and run i do.

one lap.
two laps.
three laps. and my lungs slowly start giving in. he's just
standing there in the middle of the ring, using his
horsewhip to egg me on. he hasn't nearly even used the
four laps. i start to go from a steady run to some kind of
five laps. my chest feels like it's starting to be on fire.
six laps. i'm going from a trot to a kind of haggard limp.
seven laps. "you ain't even fucking trying anymore, boy."
one of the stray whiplashes catches my heel and i almost
buckle to the floor. it's *very* painful, but it is
incentive. i thought he might just let me get away with
running the ten laps.
eight laps. my haggard limp becomes a walk - and now there
are tears of fear trickling down my cheeks. there's no way
he can miss if he uses his lasso now.
nine laps. and i start picking up again. if i outwit him,
maybe he'll let me go. i'm just about there. almost at the
tenth lap, when he just walks right up to me and puts a hand
on my shoulder and puts the lasso around my waist.

"well. i think i got one." he grins.

and slowly he walks to the centre of the room. he's posing.
from far away now - the fear is at the very core of me - i
can hear the camera going again. it's almost like a gun.

he reels me in and walks me over to his bed. he doesn't
untie me, but he does take off the hat. heavily, he sits

he strokes my chest with his huge hand a last time and then
opens his maw wide. i can't see the bottom. slowly, while
i begin to struggle and scream, the huge hands tip me onto
my back, on the floor. i kick, but my kicking is no match
for him. soon he's got both of my legs locked in his firm
grip and his lips licking and tasting around them. in a way
i'm a bit like one of those toy snakes - the rubber ones?
where you hold it and shake it and it twitches? but this is
much more terrifying than that.

as he laps at my feet, i begin to beg. it's all i can do.
he doens't listen, he just simply presses my feet to his
bearded mouth and gulps them in. as i'm looking towards
the door, hoping that someone, anyone, will come and rescue
me, there comes a just-audible mocking noise. that...
'click' of the camera. four shots.

slowly, but very surely, indeed, jim strokes my small body,
pushing it and heaving it into his waiting jaws. my
lower-legs enter his warm mouth, while they're still kicking
and fighting. surely someone must be able to hear me
screaming? my throat feels hoarse and raw already.

i start struggling with the lasso around me, and much to my
surprise, find that it's not a very tight knot, after all.
with both hands free, i try springing for something to hold
on to. this just makes jim make that funny muffled
'laughing' noise. he *lets* me grab ahold of the dresser
table leg. just as easily, he pulls my butt up to his
lips - and the dresser goes crashing to the floor.
reflexively, i shield myself against the light, but i don't
need to. upon contact with the floor, it shatters.

now it's pitch dark.

jim's tongue drags up my back, tasting my fear and my sweat.
he's making odd mph'ing noises - that i don't recognise, but
that must be muffled sighs of appreciation...but i don't
feel appreciated.

this time, not only do i hear the click, but i see a flash
rebounding off of everything as another picture gets taken.
it's like a flash of lightning. i expect to hear a thunder
clap. none comes.

perversely, as my fear intensifies, so do the sensations
around me. now a big paw is gently pressing my shoulders
down...and it's all i can do to reach out and grab onto
something solid.

the solid thing in the darkness feels warm...and, for a
second, i'm very, terribly confused. until i realize that
it's gavin. gavin has opened the door that separates
himself from jim and me. has come inside the room, in fact.

i look up at him...and i sob...tears streaming down my face.
"please...oh god...make him stop...i'll do anything..."
he grins.
"but you already are," he grunts, huskily. huge belly
hanging down near me. "why don't you give my cock a last
good sucking?"

before i can do anything else to protest, he reaches under
his rounded gut and slides his dick into my mouth. as
before, it's leaking precome pretty heavily. slowly he
fucks in and out of me...in and out - pressing me ever into
jim's waiting mouth, but i refuse to let go.

the darkness - and the bodies around me are absolute.
there's no way out, but i beg and plead with my lips.
hoping that if i bring gavin to climax once more, he'll
realize what a good cocksucker i am. and realize what a
waste it'd be to give me to this...thing.

i have no such luck. as gavin climaxes, he slides out of my
mouth...and holds his dick in one hand, stroking it, while
come washes over my bearded lips...above me, the camera
flashes and clicks a last time...and jim slides the last of
me from outside his mouth to the inside.
[four]:[no way out]
gavin drops his camera to the bed.
he kneels in front of the much vaster man and puts his hands
around his gut. this is one of those moments he cannot
capture on film. not even digital camera. or on film.

as he kneels against the mammoth bear, he humps against his
leg - come spurting over the thick, furry stump.

"you'll never eat me," he whispers, more to himself than to

jim just strokes his back and slides his cock between
gavin's lips. that's a chance gavin's just going to have
to take...
essentially, this story explores fetishes in various forms.
swallowing as a voyeuristic sport is the main focus of the
story, while bondage is a lesser part of the story.

the main idea here was to show vore in a slightly more
'grey' light than i usually do - that is, as something that
might not be entirely healthy for some individuals. this
is evidenced in the *huge* number of pictures that gavin has
of jim.

one of the core ideas here was to say that there *is* a
kind of point where you're treading on 'too much.'

the second 'theme' underlying this one [and it's really a
minor one] is the rope fetish. the idea of tying up -
which, in it's own way has symbolism in the end when jim
and gavin are 'tying' the boy to them - jim through his
belly and gavin though his penis - also his camera.

i hope everyone has enjoyed this...and gets as much
pleasure out of reading it as i did writing it.
[copyright notice]
this text copyright (c) 1999, 2003 julian comley, nicodemus
caine, greywolfe and lostwolfe]

[commentry and witticism [or commentry and criticism] can be
left at:greywolfe@new.co.za personal attacks to the author
can be sent there too. be warned that most of those wind
up either in dev/null/ [yes, i really *am* a unix freak ;)]
or...on a bad day i'll just mail your root back with copies
of your witty dialogue.]

thankyou for reading this text file.