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Vore Cop – Chapter 1: Terrare Tartare
I still remember the day I gave up on this city. It was December 14th, 2014; one week before the Winter Solstice. I was still a cop then. A real cop. I took a call at the low rise apartments in the Beaver Creek neighborhood. Everybody on the force called the area felony flats. Domestic disturbance with an animal cruelty sweetener... One of the speed freaks had heard on the radio that the CIA or whoever had taken to hiding listening devices in people's beloved pets, and that concerned citizens should go through their dogs' and cats' bowel movements for pieces of the electronics. When we got there we could smell the shit from the hallway. He'd been collecting every dropping from his pooch for at least a month, and all of them were cataloged in boxes just inside the front door. I guess he got frustrated when he went through that much shit without finding any microphones, so he decided he had to open rover up. When we booked him we took into evidence one 8 inch Bowie knife, several boxes of labradoodle droppings, a copy of a subversive local magazine, and a 2 inch black disk with a couple wires attached. He swore he found the device inside rover's lower intestine. The medical examiner refused to do a post mortem on the dog, but said the microphone had probably come out of the smoke detector. We closed the case and put the speed freak on probation without anybody every asking what a microphone was doing in the smoke detector in the first place.
After that case I just didn't have the stomach for the work anymore. Seeing all the lost souls shrieking their madness into each others ears and baling water into the sinking ship made me realize this city wasn't just on the brink anymore... it had already sailed right off the precipice... Our future was more pit than pendulum... It took about nine months for the brass to figure out what I figured out on that grey December day, that I didn't have what it took to be a cop anymore. Every cop has his limit and we all know its out there, you just hope retirement or a cushy medical pension finds you faster than your limit does, but every one of us gets to that one case that's just too much to swallow, and then you're not really on the job anymore, even when you fill out a time sheet. Some guys turn to drink... Hell, most of us turned to drink way before we hit our limit, but some guys just turn more to it I guess... For other guys its women they use to fill that hole where the will to protect and serve used to be... For me it was food. Don't think a cop can't get just as wasted on any addiction as he can on wine or women, and don't think that a cop who exploits his position for food is any less dangerous or despicable than a womanizer or drug hound... The public puts a huge amount of trust in us. It's necessary for us to do our jobs, and a cop who's over the edge? He's gonna exploit that trust every chance he gets. My last nine months on the force I was eating like a king... Table on permanent reservation at a different gourmet restaurant for every night of the week. I felt like a man with a supermodel on his arm must feel... like these dining rooms were a never ending series of gorgeous women I'd get inside every night. No hooker knows how to pump a man's ego like a good waiter or Maitre'd. They told me I was the king of the city, that the world was my oyster... sampling an all-you-can eat buffet of exotic delicacies night after night after night... Just lean on a health inspector here... trump up a charge on a competitor there or put the boots to a few troubling bums a couple nights a month and I got all of it gratis. Chicken Cordon Blue and Potatoes Au Gratin were my Parisian princess lover. The next night it was pasta primavera enveloping me in her creamy al dente arms, then the exotic beauty of Tandoori pork inflaming my senses with her fiery kiss, and always the delicate and erudite company of Sushi and Soba at the end of the week, my beloved geisha girl who knew what I desired even before I knew it myself. And everywhere I went... unlimited bread sticks. When I was in her... I was family...
By the time they kicked me off the force I was pushing 400 pounds. I was never exactly svelte even in my best days... Let my side partner handle the foot chase and I'd keep my ass in the cruiser where I belonged... But at 400 pounds I not only didn't look like myself, I didn't feel like myself... Felt more like two of myself to be honest...
I never thought I'd miss those days. I knew I'd miss being a cop; the government issued service weapon and the almost absolute impunity that filled its chamber... The badge a shield against criticism and accountability... The comped meals at every restaurant and food cart in town... Those I knew I'd miss, but I never thought I'd miss the actual years when I was a cop. Most all of us thought that we were policing a million-man toilet where a city had once been, but none of us knew just how dark and foul the septic tank fate flushed us to would turn out to be.
It wasn't long after I left the force and went into the Private Detective business that the Vore Gangs started making a name in the city. It started with a proliferation of deviant entertainment. Japanese cartoons and comic books mostly. The permissive and suicidally “progressive” policies of the DemonRat mayor and city council not only eliminated the brakes, they put the pedal to the metal on perversions of all kinds. First junior wasn't ashamed to tell his friends which anime girlies he whacked his pud to every night, then he had his parents buying him body pillows and figurines of his beloved “waifu”, soon him and his friends are parading in the streets in their fursuits and retiring en-masse to local hotels and convention halls for “comic cons”... meetups of deviant neckbeards that were little more than a pretext for body odor perfumed orgies. Into this heady brew of degeneracy, the Vore craze dropped like an atom bomb. It was the newest and boldest fetish in a debauchery arms race straight to the bottom of the barrel. Soon the streets were littered with the discarded tracts of the Vore comic addicts who delighted in depictions of their adorable anime concubines unhinging their jaws and devouring sweaty, fat young guys whole, trilby and all.
Nobody really knows how this fever dream slowly crept into a reality. One day kids obsessed over their pretty social studies teacher swallowing them like an anaconda, the next day they're biting the heads off of puppies, or swallowing pigeons and then ducks in a single gulp... then their little sisters started disappearing without a trace. These unsavory overeating abilities were not completely without precedent on the menu of human excesses... When the first videos emerged of young men swallowing rotten hams or living cats whole, the scandal rags dug up comparisons to the freak Terrare, an 18th century grotesque that did some time in the French army and a French prison. They called him the Human Stomach, and it was said he could fit a bowling ball inside his mouth. His daily calorie intake is believed to have exceeded 20,000 calories based on the records from his time in the army. He was hot to the touch, stank like burning garbage, and was said to have been extremely energetic, except after eating, when an almost coma-like lethargy would take hold of him. No one knew what bizarre flaw of biology had created Terrare, and to this day no one knows how the Weeaboo street gangs discovered and adopted his power for themselves. But what had once been no more than a disgusting fetish soon spread its greasy wings as an organized criminal enterprise, and soon all the street gangs in the projects were recruiting, and then being taken over by the anime-run-amok culture of the Vore addicts.
Terrare was known to be a madman, its likely he ate several babies whole, but back in those days everyone thought his madness caused his eating. We here in this stinking wreck of a city have the unfortunate historical perspective to know that the cause and effect goes the other way... the eating caused the madness. Take an average anime viewer. It goes without saying he's never had a girlfriend, he's probably already at least a little portly when the addiction first gets his claws into him, but as the colorful images and kawaii characters take deeper hold of his psyche, his appetites grow. All his appetites, not just for food, but for the sex he probably can't get, and the power he'll never have. By the time he's progressed to wearing a fox mask and prattling on endlessly about his fursona, his appetites control him, but by the time he discovers Vore, his appetites consume him. Now put twenty of these self-transformed monsters together and set them wild on the streets... This city never had a chance once the Vore gangs took over.
The chief of police put up a big show about how he was going to stop this degeneracy at its source. He called a press conference, put together a task force. They hit the anime convention at the downtown Hilton conference center in force, but not one cop in ten on that detail ever left the convention hall. And when the chief of police's daughter disappeared, leaving only a few locks of hair and a body pillow that bore a startling resemblance to her... Well... to say the police force was demoralized to inaction would be an understatement.
Fighting the vore gangs head on might be a job for the army or the national guard... personally I think a couple cruise missiles would be the merciful route. This city's way past well done, so just drop a fat man and a little boy on us and call it a day, but the state and federal government seem content to let us stew in the awful mess we've made. As long as the hunger doesn't spread outside our city they don't seem to care. Some say we're a sacrifice of sorts... that if the city were snuffed out and the Vore gangs with them, that this demonic hunger would just pop up somewhere else, then another city would be devoured... Guts and hooves and all...
So here I am... a broken man in a rotten city with no way out. The papers call me “Vore Cop”... They say I'm the only one who seems to give a damn about even trying to stop what's happening, but its all one big joke. They're making fun of me when they call me that. I'm not a cop. I'm not into Vore... and I don't give a damn about saving this cesspool of a city.
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