Story 4: Brady Wyatt

It was a dark, cold Sunday night. 19-year-old Brady, as usual, had started a live stream for his 100,000+ followers and decided to play the usual, popular games: "A Prey's Fate", "School Boy Vore", "A willing Prey's sacrifice", and others. The boy was very attractive and popular not just online, but in person as well. He was used to vore his whole life. When he was out camping with his friends one night, a stranger came into their tent and took his brother. The next morning, all that was left was a pile of shit outside and the torn up clothes of the boy. Another time, Brady witnessed a boy in his class willingly become a meal for his teacher so the class could see an example of how a good prey boy should react when their fate is at hand.

His followers loved watching him play these games, because he'd always name and design the characters around himself. They could watch numerous scenarios where Brady would be eaten by bulky men and digested into nutrients, or on some occasions, even digested by an animal. The boy had no care in what way he went out. As long as he satisfied someone, that was enough for him. On this special night, Brady started off his stream with a small celebration of hitting the 100,000 follower goal. He'd only started streaming 3 weeks prior to this night, and his videos and streams had skyrocketed in views. Comments would pop up with Pred's type delicious phrases, like, "I wish I could churn his little prey ass into my fat", or "Tell us where you live, boy. I'm feeling hungry right now." Brady made sure to be as private as he could with his life so he could enjoy as much of it as he would be able to. After all, he knew one day, he'd indeed be eaten. But he was having a grand time and making millions from these vids. Why become pudge yet?

After more and more followers joined in the chat, he eventually began to read a few of the comments, smiling at the hot responses. One man typed, "You deserve to be turned into a large pile of shit. Let me do the honors, bitch." Brady, who was pretty sure no one could guess where he lived, decided to give the chat a clue as to where his house could be located. "I doubt anyone can actually use this to their advantage, but... sometimes, if you listen close, you can hear the faintest hum beneath a specific streetlamp on my block. Maybe, just maybe, that lamp might flicker in rhythm with the sound of a heart beat." The chat began to blow up with confusion and anticipation.

"Where could that be!?" "I don't understand" "That's a lot of info." "thats not enough info" "someone find him NOW" and so on. Brady chuckled slightly as he saw the chat panic with this brave hint. "Alright, alright. Let's get gaming. What are we playing today, babes?" The chat eventually died down and a good, decent hour passed after he'd given the hint, but no one had seemed to find him yet. The boy seemed pretty confident that he was absolutely fine. No one would be able to figure it out. Just as he'd started a game of "Stranger Meal's", his dad stumbled into his room and leaned against the wall, an empty bottle of liquor in hand. "I'm- *hick* gonna go to the pub. Ran out of... the goods." He let out a small burp as Brady rolled his eyes, not even bother to turn around and acknowledge his father. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Just don't do anything reckless, dad."

The man waved his hand and said, "bah," before drunkenly stumbling out of the boys room and downstairs. Brady sighed, telling the chat, "Sorry about that. Man's an idiot. Now you see what I have to put up with sometimes." With a quick shrug, he got back to the game. Little did he know, a stranger on the street was walking around, dressed in black and listening for the hum of a specific streetlamp. The whole time, the man had been watching Brady's stream, and when he heard the dad exit the house, he saw some drunk bastard get in a car and skid out of the driveway, speeding off. With a smile, the man pulled his hood up, put his phone in his pocket, and headed to the front door.

Brady's character had just finished digesting in the belly of a snake as the man slowly went upstairs. He laughed and looked at chat. "What now? I think a snake wasn't enough of a challenge. Let's see if I can put in a-" suddenly, from behind, a pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulder and his head was enveloped in a mouth. 'Shit,' he thought. 'Someone figured it out.' He felt his body get lifted off the chair and swallowed deeper and deeper, the air getting to thin for him to breathe. Just as he thought he was gonna pass out from a lack of oxygen, his head entered a large chamber and the boy took a deep breath, gasping in the dark. As more and more of his body followed, he was **** to curl into a ball, until he felt the mans mouth close around his feet and Brady was entombed in his new home.

The man panted heavily, patting his bulging belly with the new meal as he sat down in the streamers chair. "Sup, chat. I'm Blake. Turns out, Brady lived a few blocks from my neighborhood. Let me tell ya, he was delicious, boys." The comments flowed with disappointed Predator's comments and prey boys asking to be next or congratulating Blake. The man in question was in his late 50's, early 60's, with long, grey/black hair and a large build. He spoke in an older accent, of course, but he was still spry... and hot! "Well, I think it's a good idea that for your 100,000 follower special stream, we stay on the entire night and answer some questions and do whatever the fans want as I digest your delicious body into fat. How does that sound?" Blake placed his hands under his enlarged stomach and shook it slightly, making a small voice with the side of his mouth, mocking Brady. "Oh yes, Blake. That sounds wonderful. Thank you for turning me into the shit I was fated to become." The man laughed. "No problem, bud."

He leaned back and put his feet on Brady's desk, knocking a a glass picture of the boy's family on the ground and cracking it. "Oops. Well, won't be needing that anyways. Now then, chat. What should we do with Brady's stuff while we wait?" The next few hours went by in a flash. Blake had torn a few of Brady's shirts in half, sold a pair of his underwear to a few viewers, and even managed to get a hold of the boy's social media info and began tweeting out about the hot event. By now, the entire world was aware of what was going on and the stream reached a new milestone of 72,000,000 viewers! At that point, Brady had been dead for a while, his body still turning into mush. But Blake was having the time of his life with this attention. He started getting access to not only Brady's socials, but his bank accounts, passwords, services. The man was set up and began changing everything to become his own.

At the 4 hour mark of the stream, Blake let out a burp and patted his stomach, sighing with sleep in his eyes. "Well, chat. I think our meal here is fully cooked through. I've finished changing Brady's accounts, so I'd like to officially welcome you all to the last stream on TheBradster23's channel and the very first stream on YoureMyMeal38's channel! Throughout this week, I'll do a few giveaways of the boy's underwear and some donations to Pred's who can send the best videos of their meals. Feel free to DM me for a collab, if any Prey Boy's want to end up on stream like this. But I'm gonna go ahead and end this wonderful session and I hope you all have a delicious night. Say goodbye, Brady." The man planted his hands under his belly and shook it again, but instead of mocking the boy's voice, he made little gargle sounds in the back of his throat. "I think that's digestion for 'Thank you'." Blake laughed as he turned the stream off.

He then stood up, grabbed a suitcase from under Brady's bed, and began packing it with whatever valuables, goods, and clothes he could fit. Then, he zipped it up, wheeled it downstairs, and headed out the door. As he closed the wooden entrance, a car pulled into the driveway. Blake furrowed his eyebrows and looked at it as a man stepped out. He instantly recognized the dude to be Brady's dad. "Oh. Mr. Wyatt. Hey there. You look like you're to drunk to comprehend all of this, but, uh... your son is my fat and his possessions are mine now. And let me tell you: he was tasty!" Blake licked his lips sadistically, teasing the dad. Instead of getting angry, Mr. Wyatt smiled slightly, gave a quick, "Good for you", and crumbled to the floor, blacking out. The man shrugged. "That was easy. Drunk idiot." He continued down the path, dragging the suitcase behind him as he went home to dump the shit of a boy in his porcelain throne.