Gromet's PlazaDevoured Stories

A Molded Meal's Last Look

by Phantom

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© Copyright 2023 - Phantom - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; vore; latex; bond; encased; sack; vacuum; tease; sendep; snake; mind-control; worm; climax; soft; sex; reluct; XX

Warning! Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death

Normally, one had to unwrap a meal before consumption. Today was the opposite.

Not that there’d be any ‘eating’, per se. The magical latex serpent that slithered in languid motions was not capable of consuming or digesting living matter. 

But it was capable of extracting things. Thoughts. Willpower. Emotion. The black snake-golem could wick away the ability to resist, boiling it away like water in a pot. It could wring the life and resistance from unwilling (or occasionally willing) victims. The results would be a person full of vim and vigor and energy, and utterly lacking in the ability to do anything other than to submit to their owner’s will.

Rossem watched the squirming sack on his counter. He’d brought his captive, along with the worm, to his kitchen - which was appropriate in flavor and also in practicality. Every room in his lair fulfilled one creative purpose or another. Every room had the tools needed to create wondrous and horrifying delights. 

He opened the burlap sack. Inside was the most choice of ingredients. Her pale skin was obscured, her dark hair wrapped, her entire body had been hidden away. She was a beautiful object; the absolute most perfect piece of meat. There was no more valuable or tender object than a ‘teacher,’ than a former executive, a person of authority now brought low. Caught by a creature of the forest, and now webbed up and wrapped tightly.

The wrapping itself was a delicious sight. He was handling her roughly, removing the sack and throwing it to the ground without a single thought for comfort. She was so splendidly sealed up, from head to toe in latex webbing from a spider. Rossem leaned down, putting his head against her chest, feeling her curves against his cheek. He could hear her heart beating. Pumping her body with blood, making her flush at the heat of his body against hers. 

This woman was going to make the most splendid, the most delicious ‘meal’ imaginable. He was going to reduce her to nothing but a lewd, lust-filled piece of flesh; a doll for pleasure in the female form. And, to assist, he thought it was only appropriate to seal her in a second layer. After all, he knew that this woman had weaknesses - including the tight, inescapable, pressing feeling of multiple layers of bondage across her body. 

“Mmmm…” he said to himself, running hands over her curves. “Very tender,” he said, as he began to seal her in a second thin sack. She was quivering, but the growing tightness was not permitting her to do more than quiver. Certainly, the tight webbing did not allow her to speak. Not that an ‘ingredient’ in any ritual was going to do any talking anyway. Objects and toys did not use words. And besides, her mouth was going to be more useful for other things soon enough; why bother to waste energy on words? 

The third layer was the most necessary of all. Her body was suspended in an absolutely impermeable vac-seal. Stretched out, with her arms at her sides, and sacked, she was left to hang in his little workshop, the top of her vacuum-packing attached to a rack to ‘marinate’.

She looked good like this. He ran hands over her body, starting at her thighs, to make sure there was no air, no escape; nothing but the crushing sensation and anticipation of her rapidly impending doom. 

Hands up, past her waist, gently passing by her womanhood. The second layer had contained a ritual to emblazon her with a glowing tattoo; one which would grow brighter as her need continued to grow. Soon enough, it would be as bright as a star. He could already see the glowing pink shining through her vacbed, indicating that the little piece of ‘meat’ was having fun. 

She - “it” - was being driven mad. There were no words to describe it, because she was barely thinking in words now. Days. Weeks? Longer? Or shorter? For unknown hours, she had been kept here. Eventually, Rossem had made openings in the layers to allow her to see, a pair of clear lenses offering her a fate worse than total isolation. Now , she was able to see what awaited her, she wished she was back in darkness.

He had been preparing ingredients for this particular meal for days now. He rubbed down her body with oil. He seasoned her with exotic incenses, rubbing it deep into her latex-coated flesh. He dropped unknown elixirs onto her, into her, ‘softening’ her more and more as he chipped away at her will. At her thoughts. 

The room itself was hot, which made it hard to think. Easier to feel. She was being ‘steamed,’ she thought; subjected to all these sensations in order to break her down. At this rate, she realized she was thinking of herself more and more as just a component in his ill plan. She was a piece of meat. Just a living, breathing catalyst for his lewd desires. 

The worst of all was seeing that serpent. The snake was always circling her. He’d bring it into his little workshop where she squirmed, and show it off.

“Do you see this worm?” he’d say, stroking it gently. “You’re going inside it. A good piece of meat like you will be the most tasty meal for my pet.” 

He’d let the serpent coil around her. Coiling tightly, snugly, warmly, wrapping around and circling up and down her ankles. It compressed all over her body even more, squeezing the steamed woman’s body oh-so-tightly, licking it with a gooey maw, before retracting and letting her free. It was a horrible torment; every night, appearing only to show her what awful, horrible bad end he had in mind for her. 

And she loved it.

She wanted it. Craved it. 

For how long, she couldn’t say. Had she always desired such a fate? To be wrapped, and mummified, and then ‘fed’ to the worm? She couldn’t tell. She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t think of a time when she didn’t want this, crave this, need this. Truly need this. She felt her body and mind reshaped; her purpose reformed. A teacher? Some kind of genius? No, no, none of that. No need for words; no need for her mouth to do anything but receive, to be used, to be filled.

The snake coiled again, and retracted. Time seemed to speed up. Days passed, and nights as well.

Days of hot steam, of being mentally tenderized. The humidity and the heat made her brain hazy and her will soft; her body seasoned and growing more and more exhausted and needy by the day. She wiggled every muscle, flexing her generous curves and toned muscles against the rubber seal. She kept thrusting out her hips. Some dimly aware part of her understood what she was doing; like an animal or flower, she was trying to attract something. She was wiggling, begging, trying to make her appear as a tempting and delectable meal for that serpent. She wanted it. She wanted to be USEFUL, to be swallowed and compressed and crushed, kept packed tight from all angles, to disappear from the world of the living into its gooey, inescapable rubber maw. There was more that she wanted, but in that moment, her soul was of one need.

Rossem was never going to let her go. He had decided that a long time ago, but watching her gyrate had solidified his plan. 

He’d never let ANY harm come to her, either. Not now, not ever. A perfect ‘meal’ like this was to be savored, enjoyed. Over and over and over again, forever. The rubber serpent would swallow her, and sap away what remained of a person. Only a piece of ‘meat,’ would remain; living, breathing, sealed under innumerable layers of rubber. A permanent latex doll. Eventually, the snake would have gained all it could from her, and it would have to release its grip on her. The expelled ‘thing’ would be a mindless, latex-addicted, eternally coated little cocksleeve for him to use infinitely. 

There were many options after that. Keep her as a doll. Use her as a statue. A pillow. A toy. A pet. “Food” once again. But he wasn’t thinking of the far future. He was thinking of tomorrow, when he’d finally let her fulfill her purpose. He was almost as excited as she was. 

The elf waved her goodbye for the night. It was her last night as a person, after all.

He awoke her with his hands first. In the morning, he ran his fingers over every inch of her vac-sealed body as he let her hang, swinging, squirming. He ran his hands over her thighs especially, then down to her calves. He wanted to inspect the meat’s muscles, to truly observe what a splendid specimen she was. Exquisitely well-endowed; a prime example of a woman. Her mind was also something special, such as it was; only someone of a particularly high mind could be brought so low. 

Rossem helped himself to her chest, rubbing and circling and pinching. He could feel her getting warm. He hugged her armpits tight, teasing and tickling and edging before finally moving his hands to her neck. 

He squeezed, letting her feel an intense and intimidating pressure as he leaned in close. He opened his mouth, exhaling and letting her feel his breath. 

A taste. He licked her forehead. Perfection.

He released her neck, and leaned in for a kiss against her rubber-encased face. It was somewhat one-sided but she gave him more than enough of a response to satisfy the elf’s preferences.

The snake finally began its work; the black, eyeless and faceless serpent opening its maw and slowly gulping at her feet. She quivered, feeling her legs growing worm; her toes and then her ankles and calves. Every gulp sent a shot of pleasure and panic up her spine. She arched her back, trying to shake it off; some part of her brain aware of her peril and sending her into a squirming frenzy. 

But he didn’t stop. He kept moving his hands, kept teasing and touching, tickling and tormenting the little rubber package. He didn’t stop. He moved his mouth down to her neck, nibbling at her. Through all those layers, she felt it, knew it, sensed it. His lips and tongue moving over spots that she couldn’t hide even if she wanted, finding new parts of her mind that still held out. 


The object flexed her fingers. There was rapid movement in her eyes as she lost focus. The snake passed over her womanhood, up past her thighs, her waist, her stomach. Rossem gently nuzzled her coated chest, rubbing the toy’s tits with gentle circular motions before standing back as the snake gulped her up to her neck.


She thrashed her head left and right, gyrating in a circle as her eyes rolled and tongue lolled. Rossem simply stood back. He didn’t want to interrupt. He wanted to watch. He was committing to memory every last millisecond of her existence as a ‘person’ as the snake gulped up to her face. She tilted her head back , and he craned over her. 

A last look. A final moment where her face and head jammed against her latex layers, tongue crushed against cloyingly tight latex and face straining as she achieved orgiastic release. A pop, a zap, as a switch was flipped and the woman became no more, replaced with a rubber toy. 

The sound was exquisite; a loud groan followed by a muffled one as the warm sealed and closed. He knew that inside was a thing that needed him, not just wanted him. She’d been so carefully prepared, after all; this was just fulfilling her purpose. 

He stared for a moment as the gulps subsided. Inside, she must have been absolutely crushed; tighter than she could have ever imagined, kept in such blissful pressure all over her body. Strenuous, intimate, the feeling of every inch carefully hugged and heated. He could still make out her face, too; smooth, but with vague outlines visible where that lewd face was now pressed into a permanent scream of pleasure.

The elf was feeling nostalgic. He leaned in and kissed that outline; planting a long smooch on a face so heavily encased that it was just barely that of the woman he once knew. He stroked her chin, and heard her moan.

The orgasm was still running through her body; she was still riding the high as he disrobed and touched her. He let his dress fall to the ground, wearing only his latex stockings and gloves as he started to have his fun.

She squealed with delight when he finally began to rub his body up against hers. An unusual thing, he remarked, since toys and dolls didn’t normally make sound. It, he thought, must be having fun. Rossem started from in front, taking the worm-sealed slut down and placing the meal on the ground. He lay next to it for a moment, gently nuzzling her before finally shoving his body up against hers.

It was a simply indescribable feeling for her within, but she felt, she knew what was happening. His manhood up against her curves was a long-awaited blessing. His cock rubbing on her thighs made her stop breathing for a moment with such utter surprise, with such mind-numbing pleasure. She gasped, drawing bare amounts of air in with such delight when he picked her up and began to go deeper.

Further. More. He was rubbing his body up against her thick frame. She could picture it; seemingly endless layers of latex and rubber had truly left her as something less than a person. The worm had devoured her personality, her steel, her acumen, her willpower. It had left her as curves and lust, a rubber-ensorcelled slut that wanted to be used. A meal for the elf to enjoy. 

He was grinding, rubbing, plunging between her curves. The pliable surface of the latex parting and providing him deep purchase, letting him hump and grind against her oiled, rubber-sealed body over and over and over. She was nothing but holes to be filled, spots to be grabbed. He grabbed at her neck, her hips, her cheeks; everywhere to put pressure and make her moan. 

And she was moaning. She could be heard, a bit louder now that she’d had time to re-orient herself into an it, had time to think about- no. No more thinking. It had left her mind, and she was only instinct now. Raw, unbridled lust. Endless plunging, using, humping. She was filled and fulfilled. A hanging bundle that squirmed in his grasp. Rossem hugged her tight, feeling her bucking in his grasp. It felt good; warm. The way that she was grinding up, so delectably eager. He was fulfilling a need she’d always had, but had never been able to admit.

Now, it was just a thing for him to use. To hump. He pressed his hands up against that blissfully coated face, hearing her smooth features rub with glee as he took her from the front. 

Over and over and over, they coupled; just a piece for him to shape and mold and torment. Finding new ways and places and poses to drive her into bliss. 

Time passed. Neither of them knew how long. Rossem rested.

He was lying against her on a soft bed, as she still groaned under layers of thick black rubber. Both were silent in their sleep; he kept his head resting on top of her, along with one leg and one arm gently and lazily draped over her thick frame.

He was so peaceful he didn’t even notice when another worm started to sidle up along his leg. 


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