Swift leaned back against the bench, panting lightly from her jog. Absently she scritched the ears of Ripper, who was panting for another reason. The big wolverine half-rose on his hindpaws, balancing himself with a paw on her knee as he leaned into the scritching. His other forepaw rubbed the heavy bulge in his midsection. It was the reason for his panting.

This was in itself no surprise. Many a time Swift had taken him for a run in the park only for some passing woman -- or occasionally a man -- to catch his eye. One hasty and enthusiastic bout of rape later the wolverine's jaws would gape and work skilfully over the body of his latest meal. This time it had been an antelope-woman, thankfully one with no awkward-to-swallow horns.

Ripper belched as she scritched. All of this was commonplace, a typical day. Where today different from any other day was in the bright red leash that hung from his jaws. Normally any dog that accompanied his meal would end up stuffed into his accommodating stomach along with its owner. He seemed to have taken a liking to the big doberman at the other end of the leash, though. Perhaps it was that the black and brown dog had merely watched calmly as its owner was raped and swallowed, but more likely it was what had happened soon after Ripper had finished his meal.

On the other side of the doberman from Ripper was a little old lady in a blue flower-print dress. Thick, nearly opaque glasses left her eyes invisible, and apparently she had just as much trouble seeing out. She did not seem to realize that the chain leash she gripped no longer led to a yappy little Pomeranian. Instead it led into the doberman's jaws, and ultimately down a gullet to where her dog now rested.

Ripper and the doberman belched almost in unison, and Swift reached past the wolverine to give the dog a scritch. She wasn't sure how this situation would work out, but it had certainly proven amusing so far.