It's right, you think as you step in that direction, blocking hot black tottie and far-eastern sweet dumpling into their seats. Right that this opportunity should be used to widen your culinary horizons.

The black girl's head snaps upwards, full, fuckable lips curled into a snarl. Fear and the anger it has spawned rob her face of its beauty. No matter. You won't be looking at it for long.

She explodes out of her seat like a cheetah in pursuit of prey, and you wonder if you might've made a mistake. Not that you won't be able to make munchies out of her – the idea of a mere human, even one as athletic as she, overpowering a vore is simply ridiculous. No, it's that on closer inspection her athletes build is slim and softly muscled. This game 'un, you think as she throws a punch, might taste game-y. Stringy, in other words.

And whilst the oriental has a promising plumpness, there's less than five foot of her. That's not a lot of meat for a hungry vore. And you're a very hungry vore.

You wonder if you have time to turn back to the simpler fare on offer across the aisle, but the brush of buttocks against your own indicates that ship has sailed. Or rather, Penny's blockaded it in with every intention of devouring both it's pretty passengers. Presumably.

The athletic girl's coffee-coloured fist drifts towards you as if through treacle, and you have time to wonder if she'll taste of it as you distend your jaw so the punch lands inside your mouth.

No. She tastes of salty sweat and fear, with a pleasant smoky undertone. And you slurp it up to the elbow like she's spaghetti. Her screams are annoyingly shrill. Her other hand reaches up, seizes the side of your mouth and tries to leverage her other arm free.

Some people are just too stupid to live.

Your tongue whips out, snakes around her wrist and wrenches it back where it belongs – the warm wetness of your mouth. You slurp your lips up to her shoulders, her hands squirming delectably in your throat.

You're nose to nose with her, hot, panting breath trailing across your face as you nuzzle her in a horrific parody of lover's intimacy. “Mei, help me” she sobs, beginning to sense, perhaps, what you already know:

That she's the main course of your dinner.

You glance up over her cornrows, into Sweet Mei Soufflé's eyes. She huddles against the bus window, petrified. It's the smart monkey option. If she puts her hands on her athletic friend, she'll be gobbled up right along with her. Whereas if she does nothing, she'll be dessert, but at least that gets eaten after the main course, not along with it.

“For God's sake, Mei,” your dinner screams. Too shrill. Your tongue trails licks across her face. She has a richness of flavour you haven't found in the girls you've devoured so far. Roast beef and red wine. Yum. Her fingernails scratch at your throat, no more than tickling but enough to snap you out of your reverie. You laugh and pop her head into your mouth.

If you don't hurry up, you're not going to have time to scoff your Mei too.

The main course's cornrows slid over your lips like a well-crisped slice of turkey-skin. You straddle her lap as you take her smooth neck between your hungry chops, drool splattering down onto her tight tank-top.

Blast.

You've eliminated any opportunity of removing it, and it's going to ruin the flavour of her entire torso. Not that you'll have any trouble horking it back up or passing it through, nor that it'll make her any less nutritious when she's dissolving in your belly.

Oh well. You scoff her down to it's hemline in a couple of efficient gulps. Her tits hadn't been anything to write home about anyway. Even your desert has better boobage, and since she's oriental and flat as a stick of pocky, that's saying something.

Behind you, Penny's undoubtedly getting more satisfying portions of white breast meat.

No matter. You're sure your athlete's dark thigh-meat will be just delicious. Yes, the best part of this meal is just beginning. Your hand brushes against Mei's trembling calf, tucked up beneath her on the chair besides you, hugging her knees as you devour her friend. She's seemingly trying to press herself through the glass. You stroke her, gently, tenderly. She'll definitely be tender for you. Maybe the best part of this meal is yet to come.

Main-course's trousers are hip-hugger cargo-pants, hip and worn low over the hip. Loosely belted, it doesn't take more than a firm tug at the pockets to puddle them onto the coach's linoleum floor. Beneath, she's gone commando. This can't, you reflect cheerfully, be how she'd hoped to get eaten tonight. Still, you think as you send your tongue exploring her intimate softness, she's yummy.

A little pleasure might've resigned some women to a fate she anyway can't escape. But not this girl. She wrestles on, legs flailing frantically and uselessly.

You flick her up, her toes missing Mei by mere inches giving her a straight shot down your gullet. Your tongue pets her pussy a fond farewell – though it won't – as her ass slides from mouth to throat, and her trainers beat a tattoo against the overhead locker.

Her thighs are indeed most delicious, but there are twenty hungry vores on the bus and twice that number of prey. The process of reversing those ratios is rocking the coach on it's suspension and filling the air with screaming and pleading, slurping and burping. Between that and gravity, her firm thighs are gone all to soon. You can feel your belly starting to distend under the weight of her. A fair portion of her torso must be in there already. Her knees jerk and go still. Fainted, you surmise. Stomach acids can be so surprising.

You gulp her down to a rather nice pair of designer trainers, and pull 'em off. Tanya's sporty, and they look to be her size. Maybe she'll appreciate the gift, you think as you polish off the athlete down to the tips of her tasty toes.

Her toenail polish is cherry flavoured.

“No... no... please don't... I'll do anything... anything. Just don't...” someone pleads softly behind you, and you glance back. It's Penny's second-course brunette. Of the blonde, there's no trace – besides Penny's own distended tummy, naturally.

With dozens of hungry vores about, the brunette doesn't have a chance at being spared, of course, even if Penny has any intention of doing so.

She doesn't. The quality of mercy, it appears, is not Penny. She kisses her prey lightly, mouth to mouth and tongue to tongue, and just as the blonde's beginning to hope she'll get away with no more that a little innocuous girlsex... Penny engulfs her head.

She doesn't even have time to scream.

A pity. You wouldn't have minded clearing Penny's plate of it's blonde leftovers before dessert. You turn back to Mei, and smile a too-wide grin at her. She trembles. “What... what can I do for you? Before?” She whispers.

It's the right question. Not 'enjoy me and spare me', but 'enjoy me now and eat me later'. It's a tempting enough offer and you might, under different conditions, have accepted it. But whatever Mei was hoping for from those few minutes of life – to live them, probably – you know there is at least some chance of rescue arriving.

And you aren't about to jeopardise getting Mei in your belly just to get your cock in her. Still, there was one thing she could do for you first. It'd only take a couple of seconds, too.

“Strip,” you order her.

Now, to how to take her...