“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment - the bodies, the bellies - that you’ve all been
waiting for! Our star attractions…BEHEMOTH BARRY AND LUSCIOUS LUCIEN!”

The rhythm of the music pumped and pounded, synchronizing with the little puppy who watched
from the crowd. Eyes widened, and breath hitched, as his little heart skipped a beat.

Two huge, massive figures - powerfully built, with sinewy limbs, broad shoulders, and even
broader curves - came strutting and swaggering from the backstage area. Silhouettes at
first…then, as the music ramped up, and the lighting changed, one could see them in the full.
Each wore tight-fitting boxer shorts, with narrow slits cut into them, exposing a glimpse of their
thighs and hips and ample rump cheeks…and that was it. Not a single article of clothing
otherwise.

On the one hand, the little up was a bit saddened that he wouldn’t get to see these hulking,
beautiful behemoths burst free from any outfits…but on the other hand, with so much
carnivorous, predatory, confident perfection on display, he couldn’t really feel too upset.

To his left danced a strong, heavy-looking canine; a dog like himself, but superior in size, and
apparent strength, and probably in every other way imaginable. Though built with a tough, solid
mass, almost like that of a great wrestler, he danced with ease, every flex of the limbs, every
twitch of his thick pecs, carrying what seemed like a hundred pounds of weight. Several hundred
more were packed onto his low-hanging, sagging stomach…each pound seeming to signify a life
long-consumed, wobbling with the weight of his massive middle.

The performer called “Behemoth Barry” dropped to his knees in a smooth, fluid motion on the
stage. His canine tail swept across the stage itself as he let out a deep, low sound; a burp, that
rolled through the crowd, cutting through the music in a heavy, bassy tone. Several in the crowd
cheered and laughed, while the puppy who watched - right up near the front of the stage - felt
himself starting to shiver and pant. Behemoth’s fur was a rich, dark color, like shades of coffee
and chocolate, matched by creamy white accents that gave his soft, lush fur and thick, doughy
padding an even more appealing, desirable, indulgent look. His caramel-colored eyes roamed
over the crowd with a sort of smoldering fire, as he placed his paws beneath his belly, flexing
and bouncing his gut in time with the music. A sloppy, sopping tongue slapped over fuzzy,
rubbery black lips, as eyes that seemed to beg for more pierced into every pupil they caught.

All the while, his partner on the stage, the mighty Lucien, was doing his own performance. With
a playful, smug, sensual smile, he backed his way up to the pole in the center of the stage,
sweeping his short mane of hair back upon his head. His fur - fiery orange-yellow, covered in a
jaguar’s spots - seemed to glisten and shimmer like ethereal flames in the light of the club. His
free paw reached down, hooking against his shorts…tugging them downward to give just a bit
more of a hint of his wide, fat buttocks and curvaceous hips. The crease between those glutes
swallowed up the pole’s long, steely shaft as he grabbed hold of it with both hands. A wink and a
growl of pleasure heralded the cat dancing around the length of the rod. It creaked as his weight
spun and twirled around it, the fat layers of rolling, bobbling chub swinging and bouncing with
every graceful, feline movement.

The puppy in the crowd watched with wide-eyed wonder and joy, tail wagging itself into a blur.
Never had he felt more blessed than in this moment…seeing two such beautiful predators, the
purest examples of carnivorous perfection, showing off their well-earned gains. He thought of
how many lives had been sent into their stomach smelters…gurgled and churned away into
belches and blubber for their bellies and bottoms. A whine left him as he felt a tremor go through
him, warmth pooling in various parts of his own anatomy; he wondered how the souls of those
swallowed ones felt, swaying and shifting as they rocked their bodies to the beat of the music.

Then, without warning…the world seemed to stop turning on its axis. Time froze, just for a
moment…as four eyes peered down into the pup’s two. The icy-looking gaze of Luscious Lucien
was filled with a sort of cold eagerness, which sent pleasurable chills along the pup’s spine. It
was matched by the hellacious heat in the gaze of Behemoth Barry, who visibly drooled as he
wobbled his gut with one paw…and beckoned to the little pup with another.

“C’mon up an’ play, runt,” he growled. “Seems like it’s your lucky night.”

Speechless, the puppy int he audience pointed to himself, making sure. Lucien chuckled and
smiled almost lovingly, rubbing over his own stomach, digging his claws into the thick, fatty,
flabby jelly rolls of his body.

“Yes, little pup,” cooed Lucien. “Step onto the stage. Don’t be shy. We only want to swallow
you. That’s not so bad, is it?”

“It’ll be good to feel you kickin’ in one of our guts, boy…turnin’ into the heavy, hefty doggy
chub you were born to be.”

“Or the lovely, supple kitty pudge you should have been from the start. I promise, we’ll make
every last second a joy…”

“You can hear our guts rumblin’, can’t ya? Step up, boy. You know where you belong.”

“We’ll even let you choose which of us gets to keep you…forever and always…just more of our
bodies, for all these wonderful people to love.

The crowd cheered. The pup glanced about, nervously. So many of them were looking at him
with all sorts of expressions: some had pity in their faces, but most looked excited, perhaps even
envious.

Timidly, the pup bit his lip. His heart hammered in his chest as the big kitty and the heavy canine
crouched down at the edge of the stage. They extended their paws and claws, bidding him to take
their paws. Each was salivating, with endless greed in their eyes, matched by the rumbling of
their guts.

“Feed me,” growled Barry, commandingly.

“Be mine,” whispered Lucien, licking his whiskers.

The puppy knew…he had no choice.

He’d come to this club to celebrate Vore Day.

Perhaps it was fate…he wouldn’t get to leave it.

He took a breath…and then grabbed hold of a paw.

He made the last choice he’d ever get to make.

Which belly would be his new doghouse?

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A delicious surprise collab writing by my equal delicious dear friend  cheshirecatmaster

So tell me dear audience, whom and where would you like to end up between these too?