RUINOUS: A series with foxtaurs, demon cows, and gluttony

[Avios]

So, my first time posting here. Featuring her Gloriousness, Princess Rosarkarina Eversor Callaxiel Velvena, trueborn child of the third Matriarch of Gluttony. Or Rose, which is what you call her if you want to live. I'll try and keep it updated as I post her stories.

Maximum Carrying Weight: A Lot More Than Six

The end of Alice's world started with a crash. So many people's personal apocalypses do.

She was the first to stagger back to her feet as the six passengers picked themselves up, staring around at the elevator, which was now emitting worrying creaks.

'Oh, god.' A young slender man with black hair and blue eyes kicked the door. 'This just opened this morning, you know. It can't be breaking down already.'

His name was Adam, he worked in maintenance. Alice knew this because she was an intern at Mephiston Industries' Human Resources department. She had a good memory for people, even in the huge complex of the global megacorporation headquarters. There was a red-haired Scottish girl named Jess, from Research, a boy with bright green hair and glasses called Ivan in IT, two girls, friends with brown and blonde hair named Talia and Francesca, who were both in Accounts. And then her, Alice, short, a little curvaceous, with hair almost pure white and golden eyes. They were all interns. They all had a big chance working here. They really, really didn't need to be stuck in an elevator. Especially not one as big as impressive as this. The room must have measured twenty by twenty feet, sumptuously furnished, with soft cushioned seats at the sides, everything soft and rich and fine. Adam pointed to a small sign above the golden buttons.

'This thing can carry up to four tonnes. Why the hell is-'

'I don't know,' the Scottish girl, Jess, snapped, 'but we're not about to get anywhere by arguing about it.'

'Who's arguing? I'm just-'

'Is there a hatch?' Talia asked, peering at the ceiling. 'Maybe we can try and open it?'

Something was prickling the back of Alice's neck. She leaned against the wall, suddenly dizzy.

Ivan picked out an expensive phone from his pocket. 'Or we could just call someone.' He tapped the screen a few times, loud in the silence which had descended. '...no signal.'

'How can there be no signal?' Francesca said incredulously. 'I can download films in seconds in this building, how can there be no phone signal?'

'Maybe in the same way that six interns can break a three million dollar lift?'

'Thanks, Adam. And... Alice, are you okay?'

Alice wasn't speaking. She was staring at the opaque ceiling. She felt terrified, more terrified than she could believe her soul could have ever felt. A monstrous weight was pressing down on her, her skin crawling with the sheer wrongness on it. It was the antithesis of everything she was. It was killing her just by existing.

'It's... here...' she managed to whisper. The other five clustered around her, staring blankly at the same spot.

'Alice, mate, it's just a ceiling.'

'Shut up. Are you okay?'

'It sounds like you are!' The new voice rang out from above them, startling everyone. It was female, but deep and loud and powerful. 'Don't worry, everyone. Temporary problem with the lifts. I'll be dealing with you in a minute.'

A few crunches of tearing metal sounded, along with more ominous creaks. Francesca coughed politely. 'Um... who are you?'

'Rose, my dear. I'm in maintenance. Like I said, don't worry... I'll be with you in just a ... grr... minute...'

There were cracks beginning to appear in the walls. Alice sank to the floor, trying to breathe. 'No...' she mumbled. The rest of them clustered around her, except for Adam, who was still staring upwards.

'Adam?' Talia poked him. 'What's wrong?' He turned round, pale and shivering, suddenly infected by the same terror which was choking Alice. Alice knew what was wrong.

'There's no-one in maintenance called Rose.'

The ceiling tore open.

It was mostly made of metal, so no actual debris fell inside. There was just a scream of tortured steel, the blinding whiteness of the maintenance lights above, and something huge falling into the floor like a sack of bricks. Once more, everyone fell to the floor with the sheer impact, except Alice, who was already sitting down. She looked at it, and the thing looked at her.

It was... a cow.

The sheer unexpectedness of it shook her. A cow in a lift, as if this was some sort of joke. The cow certainly looked almost like a joke creation. It was huge, more than seven feet tall and so long that if they hadn't been clustered in one corner, they could have been crushed. There was a lot to crush with. The beast was enormously, improbably fat, a thick paunch which must have hung several feet more than normal brushing the ground as the creature landed on four plate-sized hooves. Behind that swayed a sac of pink flesh, like a bean bag, huge and sloshing audibly with what must have been dozens of gallons inside it. The creature's fur was pure, pristine white, except for a mane of hair which hung down its - down her thick neck, black as ebony and so long as to be almost human. The eyes were bright, gleaming magenta. They were still looking at Alice.

'There we go,' the cow said. She spoke perfectly normally, her accent cultured and even a little aristocratic. 'Told you I'd be with you in a moment. I am Rose.'

The six humans, dwarfed by this new arrival, slowly stood up, shocked into perfect silence. Rose smiled. Not a kind smile.

'What...' it was Adam again, 'what are you?'

The cow turned to him. 'A few things. Shall we go with the most important one?' She took a step forwards. 'I'm your new home.'

Her eyes flashed with a brilliant red light, and a spray of fire burst over Adam's clothes, roaring and hissing. He yelled in horror, but in seconds they had burned out. There was no damage, and somehow Alice could tell that there wasn't any heat. There were just no clothes any more. Adam stood naked, his pale, rather nicely toned body shimmering in the bright light. He staggered back, still expecting burns. The cow smiled again.

'So much better this way. You're the example, you see. To show the rest of these what they're in for. I am sorry. I promise my guts will give you all the attention you desire.'

Adam managed to stutter a 'No-' before she lunged, faster than any predator, and engulfed his head in the hot slick grasp of her maw.

Now the screaming started. The four remaining clustered around Alice, trying to keep as far away as possible as Rose swallowed the human alive. She took him slowly, a thick tongue slathering over every inch before that throat rippled and forced him inside. From the kicking legs, the boy was trying to resist, but there was no stopping her. The cow slurped over his chest and stomach, tasting and teasing, and even toyed with his balls and oddly stiff shaft, licking them coyly before they too vanished into her maw. Slowly, she raised her head to the ceiling, Adam's legs sliding inside, and paused, lips clamped softly around a pair of squirming, twitching feet. The impossible beast glanced at Alice, grinning as the girl locked eyes with that devastating magenta gaze again, and flicked her head, coyly. As if to say, Watch.

She swallowed. Glllrk. With a massive rippling swell of that gullet, Adam's feet disappeared, sinking into those soft lips. His body was a squirming bulge in the immense flesh, then it reached the chest, and then... nothing.

Her gut sagged and swayed, an audible gurgle coming from it. The cow sighed, in human-like satisfaction. By now no-one could scream any more.

'Mmmm... mm.' Rose hesitated, twitched her lips, and belched, an eruption of heavy, acrid air washing over them, so strong that Talia staggered backwards. The smell was dreadful, not sickening but intense as a chemical furnace. The cow closed her eyes again, licking her lips.

'Ahhh. Alright, morsels. I'm sorry about that. You see, I hate answering silly questions before the fun part. That was a demonstration. My name is Rose, and now that I've eaten one of you, are you going to tell me that 'you can't'? I rather clearly,' her stomach gurgled, 'can.'

The pause was silent again. Then Francesca spoke weakly.

'What... what are you?'

Rose sat on a pair of haunches as thick as a car, her huge, Adam-filled gut spilling out between her legs. 'Mmmm. I'm a cow, dear. But a rather unusual one. In fact, I think someone here might be interested in this... you see,' she stared at Alice. 'I have an outsider's ancestry. In my case, demons. A Matriarch of Gluttony.'

Alice looked back, shaking. The cow was wrong. More wrong than she had ever known in her life. Rose's mere presence seemed to burn on the inside of her skull. Rose grinned, exposing thick, oddly canine teeth, and turned back. 'Let's see... I'm a Lady of the Court of Predators, a goddess to some, an apocalypse to others, and... well, that's what I am, done. Are there any other questions, Francesca?' She leaned forwards, her flesh quivering. “You're next, you see.”

She spoke with perfectly frank, almost kind sincerity. Francesca blinked, drawing back. 'W-wait,' she stuttered. 'You - no, please - you can't.'

The cow sighed. 'I thought we'd gotten over that,' she murmured, and stood up, her udder and belly swaying between her legs again. Suddenly the eyes gleamed again, and suddenly the girl was naked again, her full, soft figure olive and curvaceous, glistening with terrified sweat. 'Now then...'

'Wait!' Talia shoved her way through, hugging the shaking girl with all her strength. 'Listen, you... you... you don't have to d-do this, though! We could pay! Our families could! All of them! Please!' The two of them pressed against each other, frantically embracing. True friends to the end.

The cow's magenta eyes glowed crimson again. Talia was naked too, clothes vanished, and then so was everyone, the clothes gone completely. Apparently Rose was getting impatient. 'Yes,' she whispered. 'Beg, plead, every inch of the way up inside... you'll be together at least, little ones' The elevator shook, deafeningly, as she suddenly spun round, moving like a bucking bronco but far faster than any natural animal. Instead of that cruel smile, the humans were confronted with a huge, swollen expanse of pink udder and two massive soft cheeks, and between them a thick-ringed hole and a pair of nether lips which must have been a foot long, plump and dribbling already with potent arousal. The two girls might have realised in the half second before Rose struck. Alice saw their eyes widen, with abject horror.

The huge rump slammed into the ground, with a noise like the world's biggest boot being pulled from the world's gooiest marsh. A deafening, many-layered squelch, huge and lascivious. Rose gave a long lowing moooo of pure bestial ecstasy.

She raised her ass gently, legs straining under the weight. From that slit, now suddenly swollen and stretched beyond reason, protruded two pairs of legs, both writhing and twitching. They looked a little battered, but still alive enough to squirm, as the cow faced her remaining captives, and clenched. Alice could actually see her muscles bulge and squeeze. With another squelch, her prey sank into her nethers. Hot juices dribbled down them, the cow's sex stimulated by its new captives to a level beyond imagination. Rose moaned with joy at every squirm and thrust, her captives wiggling inside her with every clench of her muscles. Inch by inch they were slurped lewdly deeper.

The remaining people, Ivan, Jess and Alice, were still watching, shocked this time from the sheer ludicrous nature of the cow's second course. A demon cow, who ate people... with her nethers. The rest of them could barely comprehend it. Alice, meanwhile, was still overwhelmed by Rose's presence, her head churning with the cow's impossible dreadful aura. She had meant something. 'An outsider's ancestry. In my case, demons.' What did she mean? Was it Alice?

She tried again to fight it, rising weakly to her knees. No... the cow couldn't mean...

'S-stop!' It was Ivan, his glasses askew, his face white as the gluttonous cow's immense bulk. He stepped towards the clenching rump, staring at Rose's twisted head. 'L... let them out! Now!'

Rose gave a squeeze, claiming the girls' knees, and winked at him. 'Or?'

'I... you think people won't f... won't find out? You can't e-exactly hide!'

'Little thing, have something to back up your threats.' Rose seemed to be deliberately letting the screaming struggles of her prey carry them a few inches out, before clenching them back inside again. 'I can hide, very well, and more than that, I don't need to. I am a member of the Court, you see. We can walk between worlds like you would do between... well, floors. Except my elevator isn't broken, and I'm not being.... OHHH!'

She climaxed, sucking in the two girls feet like nothing. An avalanche of sticky, humid fluids poured out, drenching Ivan from head to toe. His glasses came off. The gooey torrent didn't seem to end, as Rose bucked and bellowed, her lips sealing behind the screaming, wriggling girls. They looked a little fatter than before, but beyond the immense swell of her gut, nothing could be seen.

Ivan spluttered, his protests cut off as he hit the wall, coughing on mouthfuls of gooey pleasure-liquids. Rose sighed, moaning again in release, and rolled onto her huge flank, looking back at the three of them left.

'Oh, storyteller... been a while since I took two of you up the snatch. It feels so good. My inner fluids dissolve oxygen straight into the bloodstream, you see, so they'll be squirming for days and days.'

The three of them looked at her. Rose licked her lips. 'Oh, sweet things... I'm not sated. Did you really think I was? Even if I was, I'd just sleep here until I'd digested everyone, then take the rest of you. You're not escaping. Didn't we get that at the start?'

Jess bit her lip. 'You... digest?'

'Oh, of course. Talia and her darling friend. Certainly Adam. Definitely you and Ivan there, as well. Melted away over a few days of agonising heat and lost forever to my body.'

Alice wasn't mentioned, but the other two didn't seem to notice. They were too concerned with their names.

No-one said anything. Rose's pudge gurgled. Ivan picked up his glasses, shaking. 'We could call the emergency services-'

'-I'm jamming the phone signals of this entire building. Astral interference. They're going crazy up there.'

'We'll climb up the hatch-'

'I'm stronger than you and faster than you. And you'd have to climb on me just to reach it'

'We...' he began to cry, gesturing helplessly at Alice and Jess. 'We c-could-'

'It doesn't matter.' Alice spoke at last, straight to the cow. Her tongue buzzed with static. 'You're telling the truth. We're... we're dead.'

Rose chuckled, looking at her again. 'Of course, you'd understand.'

'Why?' She clenched her fists. 'All this... because of me, wasn't it? Why? What makes me special? You're going to kill us all, because... I'm a... a what?'

'Don't be silly,' Rose crooned, twitching her tail. 'I'm not killing everyone because of you. I'm killing you all because of me. Because my body craves your mortal flesh, and you do squirm so nicely... Alice, don't flatter yourself. You're just a cherry on top of this creamy sundae. A precious gift.'

Alice gritted her teeth. 'But... look. Just. Tell. Me.'

The cow stood, suddenly, her belly roaring with cascading gurgles and sloshes. 'I'll tell you if I can eat your friends.' Now Alice stopped feeling fierce.

'W-what?'

'Deal!' Once again, she span around blaringly fast, launching herself backwards this time. Her gravid girth didn't seem to impede her in the slightest. With another slam, Ivan was smashed into the wall, pinned by the cow's enormous ass. His shriek was suddenly and horribly muffled, and Rose gave another groan of joy, slamming down on her heavy front hooves. Jess' hands found Alice's, and they clung to each other as they watched.

The cow swung herself forwards a little, before ramming herself back into the wall. This time, the squelch was clearer. For a moment Alice thought Ivan had been taken into the sticky, sweltering confines of the cow's sex, like poor Francesca and Talia, but it was worse. As Rose squeezed herself back and forth again, groaning in greedy pleasure, Alice saw the truth. Why should this shock them more? Everything was already impossible.

The boy's head and shoulders were engulfed in a thick, puckered ring of flesh, which bulged and twitched obscenely before their eyes, slurping Ivan's body in with just as much ferocious strength as the rest of her body had. Again, Rose rammed herself backwards, lowing again with joy, and the poor human was flattened between the wall and her ass, shoved further into the dreadful mass of the bovine's bowels.

Alice and Jess, the last ones left, clung to each other and stared, both weeping silently, as the bovine pleasured herself shamelessly. Her rump clenched and unclenched, forcing the kicking, writhing legs - clothes burned away yet again, apparently the cow preferred them naked even when she had nothing to taste with - back and forth. A living, writhing dildo, exploited for his simple weight in the cow's behind.

It took a good moment to reach Ivan's hips, his upper body and arms complete vanished into the squeezing embrace of hot inner flesh. Once she reached that, Rose paused, gasping softly at every twitch and wriggle from the conscious young man in her sensitive areas. And not just there. Even with her enormous bulk, Alice could tell that the cow's paunch was heavier, fatter, fuller. The faintest twitches and bulges in the huge gravidness of her gut told her more than she wanted to know. Ivan wasn't the only one still alive screaming inside the gurgling, sweltering hell.

Rose swung her huge head up to them, breathing heavily. 'Come here, you two,' she purred.

Alice had been so mesmerised by the grotesque acts that she didn't understand for a moment. She felt Jess freeze completely beside her, and tried to give her a comforting squeeze, but there was no comfort to be given.

Jess bit her lip, meeting the cow's cruel magenta gaze. 'A-and... and then what?'

'I'll devour you, of course. Every last delicious ounce of you.' Rose's voice seemed thicker now, her words sweet, honeyed and tender. She was clearly exhausting herself with her gluttony, but not enough to stop just yet. 'It was an offer, Jessica dear. You're going to slip down inside me in the next five minutes. That's inevitable. I just thought...' she smiled, leaning her massive rump against the wall and slowly pushing Ivan's hips in, for real this time, one inch at a time, '...that it'd be nicer not to fight. My innards are a wonderful ride at first. Silky massaging walls, protective heat, the knowledge that this whole life of yours no longer matters... It's easier. An easier end." She licked her lips, looking at the both of them, her churning belly giving a soft liquid sound which sounded almost... gentle. "Come on. Just take that little step."

The two remaining humans stared at her, shaking with fear and dread. Alice tried to say no, but there wasn't enough no in the word no. Not even never could do it, because even after never had passed, she would not submit like this. She shook her head feebly, trying to come up with something expressing the full sickening terror, and then Jess stepped forwards.

Alice looked at her. The redhead's eyes, a pretty shade of brown, were crazed with despair. She gave a tiny shrug, as if to say what does it matter? and took another step.

Rose cocked her head, smiling evilly. "Good. So good. Come closer. You can feel me if you want to."

The girl bit her lip again, moving like she was in a dream. "C-can... can I jest make a call first? My family will-"

"No. I'm afraid I'm not able to stop jamming the signals for you." The cow sniffed her gently, hot breath washing over her prey. The young man in her ass seemed to be exhausting himself, his struggles sporadic and weak as with a quiet slurping noise, the simple slippery suction of Rose's bowels pulled him slowly further inside. "Darling," she said, nuzzling at Jess' shoulder, "They'll never know. No-one will. You'll just be gone, wiped from existence forever. You feel my belly?" She pressed Jess against the immense wall of fat and flesh which gurgled away next to her. "Feel how fat it is? That's all that will be left, you see. Just another layer on my glorious gut. You're mine forever now." Her voice was still kind and tender, horribly at odds with her words, but they seemed no less effective on Jess. The Scottish girl began to sob fully, leaning against the all-embracing softness, wrapping her arms around her murderer's head.

"That's better," the cow cooed. "Now, are we going to have wriggles, or will you be good?"

There was no answer.

"I'm sure you will when your flesh starts to melt from your bones. I have five stomachs at the moment, darling. You'll probably survive to see at least three of them."

There was a tiny whimper. Rose's magenta eyes burned with cruel amusement.

"Delicious."

She angled her colossal ass towards Alice, just in time to hear a wet series of slurps devour Ivan into the horrible new home of the cow’s bowels, and see those twitching toes vanish. For a second, the cow's puckered ring bulged and twitched obscenely, and then it settled. Any further squirms were cushioned deep beneath Rose's immense body. The bovine gave a groan, her plump sex dribbling fluid ever more freely, and nudged Jess forwards. The girl staggered, almost falling.

"W-wait! I-" she stammered, and then the thick jaws closed over her head and blocked all sound.

Alice stared, naked and vulnerable, as the cow devoured her. Rose's mouth, so hot and slick and wet, seemed to barely ripple as it slurped its prey up. Even the redhead's curves presented no challenge. Rose lapped over the skin as she went, purring deep in her plump chest. She was a messy eater now, taking her time to enjoy her prey. Saliva drenched her jaw and the human sliding in, who, sure enough, had begun to squirm like mad, muffled wails coming from the swelling, rippling bulge of the cow's throat.

She couldn't do nothing. She couldn't.

She couldn't.

This time, Alice found strength in her shock and terror. She ran at the cow with a yell of fury, smacking her fists ineffectively into the thick, ample curve of the cow’s hips. A renewed moan of delight was all she got. The girl felt her anger turning to despairing rage. She staggered around the mountain of the cow's bloated gut, hearing and almost feeling the dreadful rumbling gurgles coming from inside, and tried to grab hold of Jess' kicking legs. Jess promptly kicked her in the face. The would-be saviour staggered back, but tried again, squealing with effort as she locked her hands around the ankle. This time, there was a little less resistance, and Alice pulled, straining desperately to shift her out.

Not an inch gave. Through tears, she looked at the cow. The magenta eyes burned with dark joy. Rose smiled around her full mouth and gave a tiny, wiggling swallow.

Jess sank in an inch, still trying to get a grip on the mouth of her devourer. Her pert rump waggled in Alice's face. The cow swallowed again. Another inch. Now a broad tongue was slurping over Jess' behind, slathering her nethers in drool and heat and softness. The foot in Alice's hand shook weakly, bucking a little. The cow smiled again.

Breathing through gritted teeth, Alice locked her heels in and yanked with all the strength she had. Very, very slightly, the girl shifted an inch. She widened her eyes and-

GLLLLRRK

In a single devastating swallow, ass, legs and feet vanished into the dark cavern of that maw. Rose tipped her head back a little, the rippling distension in her throat passing slowly downwards. The motion dragged Alice forwards, and her hands were suddenly where the struggling girl had been moments before. Rose's mouth was silky, hot and soft, more so than the finest cushion. Even her thick saliva felt somewhere luxurious and rich.

And yet it hurt, not the sharp pain of acid or fire but the deep, dreadful pain of the wrongness that was the impossibility cow. Alice whimpered, jerking her hands back, still slick with gooey saliva. The last remaining human stared at the demonic bovine, too stunned to speak. Rose breathed out softly as her belly sagged again, the weight of a fifth human deposited into her innards. She looked at the sixth human, suckling lightly on Alice's hands, and released her.

"Oh, they were such a treat."

"You... you're going to..."

"Digest them, of course. Every one. For some," she waggled her rump, "ooh, it'll take a week. Most of them will just spend a few days melting."

Alice wanted to scream something about wrongness and monsters. But what would it do?

"What - w-what about me?" she mumbled, drawing back to stare at the titanic beast in all her bloated majesty. Rose licked her lips absently.

"I did promise you, didn't I? I eat your friends and I tell you why you're special." The cow sat down on her haunches, her belly splaying out between her front legs, huge and churning. "Alright, alright. It's not actually that amazing. Alice... you're demi-angelic."

The girl looked up at her. "W-what, w-what does that mea-"

"What do you think, you delectable fool? One of your great great ancestors was an angel. It's not that uncommon, really. I feel sort of bad that I made it such a big thing, really." The cow chuckled, belching lightly as a loud gurgle and shift of her immense gut hid the screaming within. "Mmm. You'll have heightened intellect, a little more strength and so on, and, of course, a natural allergic reaction to the demonic. My kind." She grinned. "That's why I wanted you."

"For... for what?"

"You see, I hurt you when I touch you. And you hurt me as well." Rose nuzzled her arm, the sensation sending shivers all over Alice's body. "But I am... ooh, a hell of a lot stronger. First generation half-demon, darling. So as far as I'm concerned you just... tingle. A good tingle. A wonderful tingle."

She smiled again, bigger this time. Alice felt her soft face draining of colour.

"Oh, you're getting it? That's right, darling. You'll have a special place." She reared up, placing her hooves on the wall. In front of Alice was the immense bulk of her belly, and below that, the swollen udder which still dragged on the floor. "Mmm... a very special place. My milk will gain a little bit of a celestial zing to it, and it'll be tingling so nicely." A hoof pressed itself to the cowering girl's head, pushing her down to the floor. The huge milk-sac, fleshy and pink, seemed to be even bigger and more obscene close up. "And... well, it'll be agony for you for the rest of your life. How can I resist?"

"No..." Alice mumbled, staring at it, trying to push away. Her head was still spinning."N-no..."

"Oh yes." The hanging, swollen gut drew closer, and the udder dragged towards her. It was as fluid as a waterbed and as heavy as a beanbag. Each teat was as long as her hand. And now one brushed her foot.

It latched on.

Rose gave a shivering gasp, and Alice screamed, trying to claw her way away, but the slit at the end of the swollen nipple was already beginning to flow over her. The flesh stretched over her foot, first one, then the other when she tried to kick it away, little wet slurps dragging her roughly across the carpet. It felt amazing, to be enveloped by the hot, silky slickness, feeling the thick fluids which must be the cow's milk dribble and slosh around her toes. But it hurt. Every particle of Alice's feet tingled with dreadful wrongness, as if they were vibrating with indignation. And still the orifice slurped on, greedy and mechanical. Even the cow's tits were more powerful than her struggles.

Alice kept screaming, knocking her head against the soft mass of the cow's belly as she was slowly dragged inside. Knees claimed. Not an inch was given. Thighs. The hot peristalsis just kept on going. Now the udder was bloating further with the bulge of her body, and the girl's legs were on fire with horrible sensations. Each wriggle sent sloshes of milk through the sac, making it quiver and churn. Apparently Rose's udders were simply a huge milk sac. Huge enough to draw in Alice's rump. She wailed in pain, and then in shock, because her nethers were hurting in a way which was almost... pleasurable. "Nuh.... n-nuh..."

"Oh, you might enjoy a bit of it." Rose chuckled, stepping back down. Now the gurgling weight of her gut buried Alice, pinning her and letting the udders swallow her even more easily. "Just adds to the shame. Don't worry, sugar, I'll talk to you every once in a while. Let you exercise that pretty mind. And even when I'm not, you're welcome to squirm."

Alice's stomach was claimed. She screamed into the massive paunch, crying hard and frantically, and it kissed her breasts and slurped them up. The cow gave a gasping grunt.

"Now, darling, kiss my belly goodbye. I'm sorry you didn't get to feel your friends on it. Still, "in it" isn't too bad a compromise, eh?"

"N-n... p-please..."

Sure enough, she felt the faint ripples of someone squirming for their life, deep, deep in the cow's immense innards.

"You'll feel so good, little thing. Ciao."

The cheerful tone just added insult to the injury of the nipple squeezing and slurping around her neck. Alice tried to scream one last frantic plea, and with a slurp, it swept over her head.

She was encased in pitch darkness. Her skin boiled with the otherworldliness of the thick, creamy liquid which she wriggled in. She tried to scream, but only bubbles came out.

She didn't seem to need to breathe, however, not after she began to choke on it. The stuff just filled her lungs. Alice kept wriggling, kicking the hot walls, diving to try and find the sphincters beneath her, howling in bubbling gurgles and sloshes as she felt the cow shift her new toy. It was a howl of pain and despair, which would never truly end.

The cow groaned, feeling her udder wiggle and shiver, and the wonderful prickling inside it. Finally that itch was being scratched, constantly. She felt the people wriggling in her guts and womb as well, all still alive, all no doubt in pain and terror even worse than Alice's. Six of them.

She loved it.

Rose felt her dribbling nethers clench in a tender orgasm, propelling Talia and Francesca into more desperate wriggles. It didn't matter. They would be just more thick, gloopy pleasure-fluids in a few days. The others in her guts - however they had entered - would add to her bulk, softening her paunch and ass, and adding to the creamy reservoir between her legs. Alice, however, would remain in that reservoir, struggling and crying, for as long as the cow wanted. Rose was unaging, and angels of just the right sweet flavour like this one were very, very rare. It would be a long time.

Feeling her writhing captives sink a little deeper, the cow nosed the penthouse button. She had a meeting with the CEO of Mephiston Industries. He didn't know it yet, of course - why ruin the fun? Besides, if he wasn't interested in her requests, there was always room for one more.

[Avios]

And as of today, the second in her saga. In the aftermath of her latest binge, Rose likes to retire somewhere comfortable and sleep off her digestion. Unfortunately, a messenger from her past has other plans.

I never said unfortunately for her...

Rose returns, and actually gets a bit more explanation as to where she comes from. I kinda like the world I'm developing here. A nice playground for the demonic bovine.

Lucid Dreams

The morning dawned bright and clear through the big windows surrounding the mistress bedroom. A penthouse apartment, some dozens of floors up, the rich furnishings slowly turning golden as the sun rose.

The occupant wasn’t awake to see it. She murmured in her sleep, a gargantuan lump curled beneath a thick, luxurious blanket the size of a garden, upon an equally large bed. While she did not technically need to sleep, she enjoyed the luxuriant laziness of it. And besides, she had hauled herself into bed with just about every one of her openings filled with something delicious and wriggling, and movement was far too difficult then.

Demons don’t sleep, so Rose had learned to dream with her mortal half. She flickered between memories, snuffling idly. She was a young calf, and a halfbreed to the household of her mother. Worse, she hadn’t even come from a sapient species. A “lumbering beast of burden”, that was what the handmaidens had called her.

She twitched, remembering what she had done to them in return. It wasn’t long before the servant demons who replaced the old ones stopped sneering at her and started cowering.

The dream twisted. Rose felt her memory of play-hunting with her brother Orion - he always cheated - slipping away into the aether, and guessed, even half asleep, what was happening. She scowled, rolling her dream self to its hooves, fully seven feet tall to the tip of her horns. A cow unlike any mortal creature, huge and heavy with the padding of a diet of far more than just grass. Her stomach hung massive between her legs, not even full, just gloriously fat, and behind it a milk sac bulged obscenely, swaying with each movement. The half-demon, half-mortal cow stretched, and focused huge, beautiful magenta eyes upon the newcomer. They weren’t pleased eyes.

“What.”

The demon cringed. He was a slim, pretty creature, without the heritage of a trueborn son of the sins. The majority population of the United Hells were simply unaligned demons, not descended with one of the great houses like Rose’s mother’s. In order to survive they needed the protection of a larger organisation, and so most willingly enslaved themselves to the whims of whoever would take them. This one had clearly not been part of the Matriarch’s household for long, his slender form, pale violet skin and small, curving horns peeking from under silky black hair showing him to be a mere half-century old. It was disrespectful to a trueborn daughter of the Matriarch, and did not improve Rose’s temper.

“Well?” She lowered her head, stepping towards him with a deliberately predatory slinking movement. The little creature shuddered, his big, pretty red eyes full of terror and - she could see it easily - awestruck love.

“Y-your Gloriousness, Princess Rosarkarina Eversor Callaxiel Velvena-”

“It’s just Rose, hun.” she sighed, deciding to make the most of the situation. “As “Princess”, I command you to call me that. Or else.”

The demon swallowed. “Uh… Princess… Rose… your most beneficient and magnificent mother does hereby request that you be charged with the duty written -” he removed a scroll of parchment, likely human skin, from a pouch on the slim-fitting, skimpy outfit he wore, “ - upon this scroll, sealed with the seal of the Third House of Gluttony, of the Seven Sins.”

Rose sat down, shaking the ground with her bulk even in the dream place. “What? What duty? Since when did I have a “duty” to perform?”

“Your mother decreed that this be your task, your Gloriousness, and-”

“Alright. What’s your name?”

The demon tried to edge backwards from her, at least two feet above him and at least a hundred times his bodyweight. “K-Kayarvem Alnavatrix Desingor Caraleim, your G-gloriousness.”

“Even the lowest of the low have a name worthy of an Old One,” Rose muttered. “Okay, here’s my decree. Firstly, you’re going to answer to Kayar. Secondly, you’re going to stop speaking like that. And thirdly, you can speak freely with me. Why the hell have I been given a duty?”

“Uh… uhhh…” Rose shook her stomach meaningfully. The dream world would be just as dangerous as the real one if a demon like Kayar found himself being digested in it. He got the hint.

“Things downstairs are heating up, your Gloriousness. And upstairs as well. I heard that… well, I heard that Armageddon might be coming.”

“Again?” Rose groaned. “Politics. You know, mortals actually die of old age eventually, so at least that means they have to shake up the status quo sometimes. But she’s trying to drag me into it as well?

“I… I suppose so,” he mumbled.

Rose paused a moment, looking carefully at him, and grinned. Kayar noticed that her large teeth seemed a little too sharp for a bovine. “Alright, I’ll do it?”

“You shall?” Kayar sagged with relief. “That is wonderful. I shall return at once and tell her magnificence the good news.”


“Nope.” The cow stood up again, and suddenly when Kayar tried to lean back he was against a solid wall of blurred nothingness. This was, after all, Rose’s dream world. “Mother will know when I do the task.” She drew closer, several tonnes of soft black-white flesh towering over him, her body radiating such intense heat that the demon, born and raised in the hot slums of hell, felt himself sweating. “You see, if this was something which I wouldn’t want to do normally, Mother would have sent someone who could threaten me into doing it. Instead, she sent you.” She dipped her huge head, gently kissing him on the forehead, her lips soft and tender and deadly. Kayar nearly melted at the kiss, collapsing against her, head level with the massive expanse of her belly and udder.

“I… I am yours…” he managed to whisper.

Rose chuckled, ignoring him. “You see, that tells me I’m going to enjoy the task. So I may as well start now.”

She kissed him again, and turned it into a lick which trailed from his chin to his horns, and shuffled forwards, smothering him between the thick weight of her gut. “You know, mortals simply fade when they die. Nothing but oblivion. But we immortal creatures… we don’t end. We are simply tied to the place we died until we’ve absorbed enough strength to come back.”

Kayar tried to push away, feeling his strikes just sink into the layers of bellyfat. The cow’s innards gurgled at him in response, almost mockingly. “Really? No… no…”

“Oh, it’s quite a well-kept secret. Otherwise everyone would be trying resurrect long-dead demons. But that means, hun, that you are mine. Oh, yes.” She squeezed the breath from him, nuzzling hungrily at his neck. The taste of demon was so dark and bittersweet, so sinful and heavy with infernal energy. It reminded her of her childhood. “You’ll melt in my stomach, slowly, exquisitely, and then you’ll be there forever. Nothing but heat and darkness and gurgling flesh for the rest of my life, all eternity of it.”

The little demon stared up at her, terror flowing off him in great intoxicating waves. Rose smiled, and licked him again.

“B-but… but I… I brought you the message. You said y-you were going to enjoy t-the task!”

She broke him off with a kiss to the lips, breathing into him. “And? That means I have no more use for you. Sure, devouring her servants isn’t the best plan for Mother, since it’s not popular for new employees, but I don’t care in the least.”

“Th-this is a dream, t-though! You won’t get anything out of it!”

“Nice try.” Rose pressed herself against him so hard that his mouth was cut off by the expanse of soft pudge. “We both know I’ll still get the calories. You’re really here.”

“But… I…” he trailed off, muffled by her, crying weakly with adoration and fear, helplessly pressing a shaft, which was smaller than one of Rose’s milky teats, into her heavy paunch. “P-please… I swear I’ll s-serve you in every-”

“This isn’t the Hells, darling.” Rose stepped back, her vast form looming overhead. “I don’t care for servants. I just want… breakfast.”

WIthout another word, she slipped her maw over his head. The inside of her mouth was incredible, flesh silkier and softer than even her belly had been, squeezing at him as the massive tongue lapped his neck up. And it was horrifying. Kayar screamed, placing little hands at the edge of her jaws, trying to pull out. She didn’t even use her teeth and she held him inside effortlessly.

Rose lowed with pleasure, finally getting a proper taste. So sweet. So wriggly. Her cheeks swelled as she took in the rest of the little demon’s shoulders, tasting him again. And then, lazily, she let her throat squelch as loudly and lewdly as it could.

Her lips slipped over his chest, hot and soft, dragging them inside, as her swallow consumed him all the way to her navel. The demon gave a high-pitched squeal inside her gullet, and Rose crooned with laughter around him, squeezing greedily at the morsel.

Her throat was dark and somehow even hotter, with muscles powerful enough to crush his skull delivering Kayar the deepest massage he’d ever felt. He whimpered feebly, kicking his legs in mid air as the cow lifted him from the ground, and began lapping at the next area. His shaft.

Her tongue was just as hot and soft and before. Rose smirked as the little creature began squirming in a different way, hesitant and frightened, but still putty in her hooves. She licked at him shamelessly, tasting him from base to tip. It wasn’t any kind of pity or sympathy for the little creature. She tasted his lust and confusion now as well, a cocktail of flavours which writhed all the way down her gullet with the next swallow which brought him in up to his knees and let him take a more active role, humping frantically at the soft flesh of her throat. Rose sighed with pleasure, the squirms making her throat ripple and stretch. Delicious.

But all things must end. She smirked, and tipped her head back, letting Kayar’s feet slowly slip inside. She licked him for every inch, engulfing more and more in layers of hot flesh. The demon was pleading again. “Please, I-I.. I-I’ll do anything! I’ll be… I’ll do… p-please, Mistress! I’ll w-worship you! I’ll… please…”

And yet he still thrusted, moaning with joy as his hot surroundings clenched and squeezed at him. His toes wriggled as Rose licked at them, folding her tongue back to push them towards the back of her throat.

She let him hang there, gasping with fear and lust as he realised with the wet heat on his feet meant. “W-wait! WAIT!”


Rose swallowed.

She arched her spine, her throat swelling and stretching as the demon slid down, smashing into an orgasm which drenched his upside down body with his own seed and made him wriggle so much that he actually made her thick chest ripple as he passed into it. Head-shaped bulge gone, chest, throbbing groin, legs… his toes vanished.

She felt, deep inside her, a wet squeezing noise, as the first of her five stomach accepted her prey. Her belly sagged between her legs, dragging upon the misty ground of the dream world. The demon writhed inside, full of emotions so immortally deep that they filled her entire being.

Within a moment of entering, shuddering from the afterglow, Kayar was in hell. And real hell, as well. Rose’s stomach was as hot as a furnace, the pressure moulding it around his curled, naked form, and the liquid nearly submerging him. All around were noisy churns and ripples, the sound of the cow’s massive body at work. And his soul was already being stripped away, because for a demon, body and soul were the same thing.

He whined feebly, feeling the acids beginning to burn on him. The cow swayed around him, making him slam into the floor, covering himself in more fluids. His skin tingled with pain.

“I’ll… p-please, j-just tell me what I c-can do! M-mistress!”


“Nothing.” her voice echoed through her gut. “Nothing at all. Now burn for me.”

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Kayar began to scream, his young demonic mind suddenly confronted with the idea of inevitability. It terrified him. But not as much as the pain.

Rose yawned, feeling her prey wriggling inside her. Oh, demons were a rare treat now that she lived among mortals. He gut churned and gurgled, rippling gloriously.

- and to her mild surprise, making something else give a hungry ripple.

Well, she was asleep, after all, she reflected, feeling the dribbles run down her plump udder. And as dreams went, this was rather an arousing one.

Without hesitation, the cow let a section of the misty ground rise up before her, shaping itself according to her lucid unconscious mind. She had a few at home, for when humans wouldn’t satisfy and she couldn’t get horses. But she hadn’t tried a dream one before.

Shivering greedily, her gut churning beneath her, the cow turned around, lowering herself onto a massive pillar of dreams, the consistency of firm rubber, and the size of a pillarbox. Her snatch rippled around the thing, greedily slurping at it. The thing rippled her paunch even more as she began to grind herself up and down, sending pleasure rushing through her - and jolting poor Kayar - with every movement. Her innards squirmed and contorted deliciously around the huge, solid intrusion, each thrust burying it deeper, until she was slamming her massive, soft rumpcheeks onto the ground with each pistoning motion.

Kayar, by now screaming, recognised the motions before long. He could not know who or what it was his mistress masturbated with, but the insult burned in him as he sobbed his agony into the sweltering walls. She didn’t care. She just didn’t care in the slightest. A halfbreed, he’d heard her called, but this demon was more merciless than most trueborn infernals.

Gods and demons, he loved her.

He howled as she howled, Rose’s gut clenching around him as his melting form was squeezed painfully into her second, even hotter, even more powerful stomach. Her gut bulged, but it was swollen already, stretching with the orgasmic weight of her sex toy. She climaxed again as Kayar entered, feeling his soulless essence binding itself to her with every hump. Already the ground was drenched with sticky, gooey fluids, gallons and gallons of them.

She did not even pause, continuing her merciless masturbation as the demon was slowly claimed, his pain accenting her pleasure. Even a creature like her had a limit to reach, normally, but this was the dream world. Rose simply kept pleasuring herself for hours, squeezing her belly and udder as her prey passed through her stomachs. The pain for Kayar must have been incredible - without his demonic constitution, he would be already dead long ago.

Only after three hours in her fifth, final stomach, where the temperature could boil water and the walls could crush steel, did he finally end. And only then did the cow’s exhausted sex finally stop its relentless pistonings. She felt him fade, writhing in agony beyond words, and collapsed, shuddering, her nethers sliding wetly off her toy. The night had been a good one.

The demon’s essence flickered as the cow slipped, with effort, out of her dream. Her physical body twitched as she woke up, blinking her heavy eyes. It was early morning, the next day. She’d spent twenty four hours dealing with Kayar. Time well spent.

She looked up, feeling herself properly at last. Her stomach was empty again, her form padded with the thick pudge of the meals she’d been sleeping off. Her intestines were rather urgently full - she’d deal with that in a moment. Her udder was swollen thick with milk, little Alice asleep for the moment, crying feebly in her endless creamy prison.

Her sex was almost raw with a delightful aching weariness. Rose raised her head some more, looking down at herself.

“Ah.”

The bed, the floor, the walls… the entire room was drenched with her pleasure fluids. She had orgasmed in the real world for every time she had done it in her dream. Oops.

But the important thing was deep within her body, in the hellish heat and clenching flesh of her fifth stomach. The slight tingle of the demon within, still writhing, still loving and squirming. It was a familiar sensation. Rose could feel similar tingles all over her body, each one just as aware as Kayar was. Immortals were a rarity, sure, but she’d still managed to claim her fair share.

Stretching, she rolled her padded bulk off the bed, loving the new weight in her gut and rear. Now then, what had the note actually said? Rose closed her eyes, mentally opening the scroll left behind in her subconscious. The messenger seemed to wriggle deep inside her, as if he knew he was being thought about.

The messages of demons are as much emotions as they are words. Rose blinked a few times, examining the information.

She smiled. It was going to be a good day.

[Assimilation]

Sorry I don't have great feedback right now, but I really enjoyed your ability to set the scene, and I love the personality of Rose. The worldbuilding for this is really interesting, and you do a good job of blending contemporary settings with traditional Christian mythos fantasy.

[Teodor435]

Very nice story! Good strong definition of characters and the "sins" that drive them to pleasure. Nice strong arousing main character and vivid description of surroundings and events occurring to the characters in the story.

[Avios]

Very nice story! Good strong definition of characters and the "sins" that drive them to pleasure. Nice strong arousing main character and vivid description of surroundings and events occurring to the characters in the story.

: D Thanks! I've written a little before, but this is my first try with erotic things. I wanted to keep some of the story elements. And Rose, uh, she wanted to keep herself as an arousing character. She was very insistent about that. :c

Sorry I don't have great feedback right now, but I really enjoyed your ability to set the scene, and I love the personality of Rose. The worldbuilding for this is really interesting, and you do a good job of blending contemporary settings with traditional Christian mythos fantasy.

Hey, that's good enough. Thanks a lot! I haven't done much actual worldbuilding yet, I feel, but I do have vague, vague plans for where this might go. So I'm real glad you enjoyed it. And Rose. She is so much fun to write.

[Tsubasa17]

Avios! Dear Avios! Where for art thou story, Avios?
More from Rose, please? Maybe one with a mind-broken Alice helping Rose with some of her meals and new toys. Or maybe Rose and another equally powerful and hungry/horny demon double swallowing/unbirthing/udder swallowing/anal voring an (un)lucky victim.
Either way, more demon cow please! And a side question, would there be half-demon elephants in your world? Would make sense, what with there being a demon cow and all.

[Avios]

Avios! Dear Avios! Where for art thou story, Avios?
More from Rose, please? Maybe one with a mind-broken Alice helping Rose with some of her meals and new toys. Or maybe Rose and another equally powerful and hungry/horny demon double swallowing/unbirthing/udder swallowing/anal voring an (un)lucky victim.
Either way, more demon cow please! And a side question, would there be half-demon elephants in your world? Would make sense, what with there being a demon cow and all.

But soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is vore, and Rose is the sun. Glad you enjoyed.

I do have ideas for places where this could go. Thanks for the ideas! Alice is probably a pretty broken by now, but on the other hand, to let her help, Rose would have to let her out. And I'm not sure she's ready to do that for a few decades.

A story is in the works with another character, who may not be demonic like Rose, but is her equal in terms of greediness and cruelty, and the two may indeed meet. We shall see what happens...

And yes, demonic elephants would and probably do exist. Immortals in this world don't possess DNA as such, but convey the genetic information required for the creature to be half-immortal through a wash of magical energy during conception. As a result, they can breed with anything at all. Humans, cows, and yep, elephants. I would imagine that such a creature would, depending on their magical parent, be about as powerful as Princess Rosakarina, and considerably bigger. And probably hungrier.

The mortal worlds are absolutely screwed, aren't they. This is fun.

[Tsubasa17]

Yaaaaayyyyy, more Rose stories. And I had meant to give my feedback when you first posted this in may,but had other stuff on my mind and forgot to do it.

As for the Alice thing, you don't necessarily have to let her out to have Rose make her help. Rose could have a victim in waist deep in her udder and then tell Rose to eat her out or fist her or whatever. Or you could do a side story, noncanon, of a few decades later where Rose lets Alice out for some fun before she goes back inside.

[Tsubasa17]

And forgot to put this, but is same size (technically) the only kind of vore in this world?

[Avios]

Yaaaaayyyyy, more Rose stories. And I had meant to give my feedback when you first posted this in may,but had other stuff on my mind and forgot to do it.

As for the Alice thing, you don't necessarily have to let her out to have Rose make her help. Rose could have a victim in waist deep in her udder and then tell Rose to eat her out or fist her or whatever. Or you could do a side story, noncanon, of a few decades later where Rose lets Alice out for some fun before she goes back inside.

Hmm. Possibly.

And forgot to put this, but is same size (technically) the only kind of vore in this world?

Might do a bit of proper worldbuilding after the next story (not with Rose this time; watch this space). The world we're focusing on is actually a collection of a very large number of mortal realms, bordered by four parasite planes, the immortal worlds. They are: the realm of the United Hells, inhabited by demons and their semi-demonic scions, the realm of the Heaven Ascendance, inhabited by angels (although not by the souls of mortals who lived a good life. Mortals don't get an afterlife. To claim otherwise was just a very successful PR campaign). As well as angels and demons, there are two more worlds: the Eternal Church of Aqshava, the realm of magic, a strange, ever changing world inhabited by beings of sorcery and mortals who have mastered it, and the Melseract Forest Court, an endless land inhabited by the living incarnations of life itself - nature spirits, basically.

Then there are minor elements which correspond to no-one. The Horsemen of the Apocalypse, the Old Ones Beyond, the Court of Predators, and a huge number of deities, each with their own domain and sub-realm.

Every true denizen of any of these immortal realms does not have a true form, and can appear however they wish to within the limits of their power. Half-born creatures like Rose can't do this innately, because the mortal side dominates. But changing dimensions is only a spell away... so yes, size changes happen. Anything can happen. And it frequently does. Because the mortal worlds are just that screwed. : 3c

[Tsubasa17]

Yaaaaayyyyy, this sounds fun. Can't wait till you give us more delicious, extremely kinky, and hopefully size changing, Rose stories. It'd be interesting how she would use a dildo sized human as a living lolipop/sex toy.

[banzai]

These are amazing reads Avios, and the world you are building around them are pretty neat :3 And the thought of a large demonic elephant is quite exciting, I really hope you find inspiration for making such a character, its something id really love to play with <3 there is so much mayhem they can do with their trunks and enormous massive bellies

[Avios]

Part 1 of 2! Part 2 is nearly done, but I didn't want to upload all 10,000 words plus at once. It's coming though. I promise. ;

Introducing Christine, a new character. She's not half demonic, she's not even some other kind of immortal. And yet she's still capable of invading a heavily guarded stronghold all by herself, not just before breakfast, but <i>for</i> breakfast.

She's also a ten foot hemaphroditic foxtaur. Hope you like!

Foxtaur, vulpine, leopard, feline polecat, H/M, H/F, H/MF cock vore, oral vore, unwilling, digestion, fatal, cruelty.

Infiltration and Ingestion
Part 1

In Chicago, a handsome blind eagle sets up a trade in a powerful hallucinogen laced with the bones of crushed angels. “Seraphim” gives you wings, if you have the money for it.

In Bangkok, a quiet-looking shrew will walk into a building without anyone seeing her, and take the soul of one person and tear it to shreds. She speaks only in a whisper, and she’ll kill anyone you want, if you have the money for it.

In Rio de Janiero, a pair of twins, sleek, powerful lions, begin offering a taste of the old world to people who wonder what it was like before people weren’t allowed to eat each other. Any species, any cut. They’ll even bring you your food alive, if you have the money for it.

And if people do have the money for it, then numbers in computers will click around, and the person who makes it all possible will take a look at her web of pleasure and pain, and smile.

She smiled now, sprawled comfortably in the midst of a set of five computer screens displaying flickering numbers which most people would never see in their whole lives. Indigo eyes danced from screen to screen, watching the clockwork of her organisation tick in endless rhythms.

Her organisation. It still had a little bit of a sultry thrill to it, even after several years. Christine knew that she would never grow tired of the rush of something being hers.

She stretched her hefty form, standing to her full height of ten feet, and padding out of the circle of screens. The web of business was functioning. Christine had risen at five, spending the next two hours doing this business work from her study. Now it was seven, the sun was cresting the horizon at last, and the boring part of her job was done.

She pulled out a phone and placed it against one large, triangular ear, stretching as the number dialled and a gruff voice answered. “Ma’am.”

“Hendrik. There’s been a dip in the production of our labs in the red district. Why?”


The raccoon grunted. “Problem with equipment, they said. Should be fixed by next week.”

Damn. “Alright. What about the takeover of the gambling ring near sixth? That hasn’t made much progress.”

“Police were getting nosy. But,” a few papers rustled, “yep, as of last night, they declared they were gonna concentrate their efforts somewhere else.”

Going in there would get them interested again. No use. Christine scowled. And the day had started so well…

“Look, Hendrik, you know exactly what I’m looking for. Now stop playing games or I’ll start playing back.”

There was a pause. Even Hendrik, grizzled veteran of twenty years in the family, feared her. Christine felt herself tingle.

“Y-yes, ma’am. We’ve got a group of… vigilantes. We’ve been trying to expand our territory near there and they keep attacking. Info says… at least fifteen of ‘em, pretty well armed. Young idealistic types. They may not know how to use guns, but with three hundred rounds a minute, it’s not gonna make much difference. Place is fortified, too. We’re gonna have to send a heavy squad in…” He trailed off. “...or not.”

The Don grinned, stroking one hand over her ample breasts. “Hendrik, get my car.”

Breakfast is served.

*

Breakfast badly needed to be served. Harold leant against the wall, rubbing his eyes. And they were good eyes. He was a leopard, lean and handsomely built, with fur the colour of the sun rising (at last) over the bustling district. He’d been out here since three in the morning, leaning against the dirty brick and listening to the endless sirens of the city that never slept.

At least it had been a quiet night. The last few weeks had been tough. Firefights had broken out almost every night, professionals, men with black armour and no markings and full-auto weapons. They’d lost four people, good people. But thanks to the Lady, they had given as good as they’d got. And more people had joined since then. This block was their home. No two-bit gangsters were going to just move in on it.

Not without a fight. That was what the Lady said. She seemed to believe in the idea quite passionately. After Jessie had taken two rounds to the skull and they nearly lost Hawson Alley, the Lady had come. Though it seemed she’d been shaken by the death worse than any of them, she’d spoken, quietly at first. She died fighting. She died making the world better. The way she put it gave them fresh heart, and by the morning, Hawson was still theirs, and the attackers had been beaten back. They drank coffee in Jessie’s honour.

He thought about the Lady, eyeing a rooftop across the street where he knew Gemma, a sleek, deep grey polecat with amber eyes and a Latin fire to her actions, was keeping watch. She was a strange creature, all covered in a slim jumpsuit, hood, and even a pale porcelain mask hiding her face. No-one even knew what species she was. She possessed no tail, her muzzle was as apparently as flat as a primate’s, and she had never uncovered her fur. She called herself the Lady, refusing other names. But the way she spoke to them, they didn’t need to know her face. The small, slender person had a passion which infected every one of them. She had suffered under the heel of people like this before, that was obvious, but it was equally clear that she was not allowing it to happen again.

So they fought. He looked again at Gemma’s position, frowning. It wasn’t clear exactly how it had started. Harold had joined later, when they were starting to organise themselves into a real military organisation. The police didn’t care, and the petty criminals soon cleared out. Just the strange men. Whoever wanted to make this place their territory did not give up.

But neither did they. The Lady was adamant about that.

He glanced up at Gemma again, and the pale dawn light he finally realised what he was looking at. Or rather not looking at.

Oh.

His fingers fumbled with the radio on his chest, and from behind another set of fingers grasped around the scruff of his neck and lifted him effortlessly off the ground, tearing the entire sweatshirt, radio and all, from his chest in one powerful snatch. Harold made to scream, reaching for the pistol at his side.

His body was smacked against the brick wall, fully five feet off the ground, and another hand smashed into his arm, pinning it against the wall as well. And his mouth was blocked by a kiss so violently passionate that he couldn’t even breathe through the invasive embrace. He flushed, wriggling frantically in the incredibly strong grip and achieving nothing.

His assailant’s tongue entwined with his, unexpectedly large and long. Overwhelmed by sensation and a fair degree of asphyxiation, he was powerless to stop his body armour being unbuckled and dropped to the floor. His shirt quickly followed, buttons popping off as it was ripped in half, and while the attacker efficiently divested him of every single item of clothing he was wearing, Harold realised that against his chest were pressed an ample, magnificent set of naked breasts.

The shock, terror and overcome sensuousness meant that when he was finally dropped to the floor, he could do little but curl up, gasping for breath. Silhouetted by the sun, the attacker stood above him.

Her lower body was like a feral fox, albeit one the size of a massive horse, sleek and powerful with a heavy, softened belly and a bushy tail longer than he was tall. In place of the fox’s head she had the torso of an oversized anthro, a stunningly beautiful, slender vixen with heavy breasts, each as large as his whole head, clad in a rather straining sports bra which left nothing to the imagination - he could see the hard, dark nubs of her nipples through it.. If she’d been two legged, she would have stood at least seven feet tall. As it was, she was more than ten feet. Raven hair cascaded down her back, as soft as the white and flame-orange fur which covered her immense body.

Her eyes were dark indigo, and fixed on him with a terrible, firm intensity, so powerful that he didn’t dare break the gaze… until a choked whimper came from a few feet away.

It was Gemma, the slim, pretty polecat crushed beneath a hindpaw the size of a car tyre. She was also naked, her eyes wild and frightened. The scene as a whole looked like a poster for the seedier kind of fantasy film.

Tauric. They existed, sure. It was a genetic mutation, incredibly rare and frequently very debilitating. The result was a creature part feral and part normal, both in body and in mind. Most were stunted, twisted beings, more deserving of pity than fear.

But not this one. The tauric fox… foxtaur? looked at him coolly, drawing from her backpack (the only item she was wearing, dear god, she was gorgeous) a small, glittering item, which she twisted once, twice, and dropped on the floor. It landed not with a clatter, but an odd, subsonic whump, washing over the three of them. Only then did the creature speak.

“You’re amateurs, aren’t you? You can’t be more than twenty five… and if you’re a “soldier” then I’m a civilian.” Her voice was deep but feminine, part New York, part something European. “Cazzo, my best men can’t handle a bunch of kids in a boarded up apartment block? I am going to have to have a serious talk with them after this.”

“Your best men?” Harold managed to crawl into a position which hid his nakedness slightly better. “You… you’ve been sending them at us?”

The foxtaur smiled, planting a forepaw on his tail, heavy and powerful. “Don Christine Aviscuro Vorascini, absolutely… delighted to make your acquaintance. I’d shake hands, but it seems you’re beneath that right now. Now-”

“HELP!”

Gemma punched the brawny ankle above the foot holding her down, trying to squirm free and yelling at the top of her lungs. Her slim breasts jiggled as she writhed, beating at Christine with all her strength, and - crack -

She stopped yelling very fast.

Christine gave a smile of pure pleasure, casually keeping the grey polecat and the leopard beneath her as she sat down on massive haunches. “Gemma, darling, that didn’t do any good before and it won’t do any good now. That little metal sphere is a gift from a rather unusual friend of mine. It stops all sound from inside the radius from getting out. No-one’s coming.” She patted the trembling polecat with an enormous fluffy tail, playfully leaving it resting on top of her. “Now, what’s your name?”

“H-Howard. Howard W-whistler.”

“See, that’s not so hard, Gemma. Took you a while to do, didn’t it?” Her toes flexed lazily. “So, little leopard, who have you got in this building?”

“U-uhh…” He remembered where he was. “Y-you’re not getting anything. We’re not afraid of you.”

“Yeah!” Gemma managed to grunt, frantically trying to meet his eyes. “Y-you think we haven’t been threatened b-before?”

“Both of those sentences are wrong, Howard.” The gigantic creature smiled. “Gemma… actually, you’re no closer. See, I know you’ve been threatened before. But not the way I do it.” Her second forepaw, huge and hot and heavy, laid itself on his scalp, forcing him to bow beneath the sheer weight and stare at the wall of Christine’s feral body before him. A rounded, slightly heavy stomach hung down, the fur as thick and soft as molten silk. And nestled within it… no…

He kept staring as the polecat, cowed by another light squeeze by the monstrous foxtaur’s paws, was pulled up and pressed against Christine’s plump flank. “Mmm… you see, adorato, my family has a lot of traditions.” The vulpine giggled as a lewd slurp interrupted her, her heavy toes stopping Howard from looking anywhere else but at the monstrous, swelling pillar of flesh. It slid further out of the thick sheath with every second, glistening with fluids, as thick as a tree trunk and longer than his leg. The tip pulsed as he looked at it, so hot that the heat carried across to him, along with an obscene sticky scent.

Even Gemma had gone still, staring at the swollen shaft, as Christine shifted her-his?- stomach comfortably, bringing into greater relief a pair of furry orbs, themselves the size of their heads. “One of my favourites is to do with threats.”

His mouth was dry. Howard didn’t even look away when Gemma was lifted up, her elegant, soft-curved body exposed for all of them to see. Christine tapped him on the neck with a toe. “Howard, adorato, are you listening?”

“I-I..” he could still barely tear himself away. “What the hells are you?”

Christine ignored him. “See, when a member of the Vorascini family makes a threat, she carries it out first. Then she threatens to do it again, unless she gets what she wants. That way…” She stroked Gemma’s back gently, making the polecat shake with terror, “you know that she’s not playing with you. Or rather, you know she’s playing for keeps.”

With an easy switch of powerful hands, she flipped Gemma upside down and plunged her head straight into the thick divot at the tip of her member. It stretched around it effortlessly.

There was a wet squelch, and Howard’s face was suddenly drizzled with something hot and sticky. He tried to scramble backwards, but he was against the wall, and Christine was holding him down. The foxtaur gave a hideous groan of pure, sexual delight, her shaft somehow swelling even more.

No, worse. It was just Gemma, being shoved further in, her shoulders and soft breasts squeezed by the greedy pink flesh. She was beginning to wriggle now, kicking and flailing, but Christine’s hands simply held her, stroking her lovingly, and fed her inside deeper and deeper.

*

It was bad to watch, it was worse to experience. Gemma screamed again and got a mouthful of creamy, musky fluids for her trouble. Her hands and feet flailed everywhere, trying to find something to grab, somewhere to ground themselves on, some way to hurt the monster who was devouring her - but nothing was in reach. The foxtaur’s smooth hands held her tight and let gravity ooze her deeper, deeper inside of her own shaft.

How could any of it happen? Hermaphroditic as well? Christine was female, that was pretty definite, so how in the Nine Heavens could she have something like this? Something so big, and real... and hungry?

A pair of fingers massaged her hips as the polecat’s belly began its sticky slide inside, every inch of her compressed by hot, gooey flesh. And then they slid across to between her legs, idly taking those as well.

The sensation was electric. She gasped, coughing on the sweltering, musky air and thick liquids, and began to squirm even harder. “Nnnn… no!”

Those fingers didn’t stop, even as Gemma’s curvaceous hips were taken. And they were talented, too. Through the terror, she wondered how many others had been there to practise on. How many had taken this trip, down the rippling, slurping flesh and sweltering seed?

And what had happened to them?

*

Christine rippled her haunches in a slow, rolling hump, and through the fog of ecstasy, she wondered if Gemma had guessed what was going to happen to her. The wriggles were definitely more intense, but that could just be because of the vulpine fingers teasing at Gemma’s sex.

She’d find out soon enough, especially as the foxtaur’s gluttonous member was already taking her hips in. Christine shivered, almost bent double as she kept stroking her prey. Almost… there…

She reared up again with a lewd moan as the polecat’s nethers vanished into her own, the pole of flesh slurping up hips and rump. Only little Gemma’s legs remained, still kicking, so sweet, so filling. And poor, poor Howard, trapped, too stunned and too scared to do anything but watch as his friend and sister-in-arms became just a wet, slurping bulge of sister-in-shaft.

Aww, he was crying, tears dripping down those sweet cheeks. “Little darling leopard,” she purred sultrily, pressing down on him heavily with her paws, “I wish you could tell… She feels so good… I want to stuff you full of her the moment she’s digested...” She stroked Gemma’s feet, shivering with joy, and let them go.

Her balls began to swell, filling out with the glorious writhing shape of her prey, who, judging from the increasing shaking, had discovered that she wasn’t actually coming out, but going even further in. Her legs thwacked against the foxtaur’s soft, silky belly as Christine wiped her lips of a little saliva, and sat back down on her flank, pulling Howard close to her.

His sobs grew, and in his blind terror, he actually snuggled against her, cuddling the powerful bulk of her feral chest. Christine purred, letting her shaft splay out on the ground as it greedily slurped up Gemma’s knees, her sac rippling and twitching with its occupant. Every inch of the Don was sensitized, an intense and extremely messy climax just a few squeezes away.

She held it back as she cradled the whimpering leopard, pressing him against her breasts, the bra slipping free and letting her other set of heavy orbs squish against her prey. “Now, Howard. Now I make the threat. If you don’t do exactly what I say, I’m going to stuff you down there with Gemma, and just like her, you’ll be liquefied and churned and melted into nothing but gallons and gallons and gallons of my seed.”

There was a noisy, wet, slurp. Howard could see past the swell of the monstrous vulpine’s breasts: Gemma’s toes had been devoured by the ravening shaft. She was simply a bulge, emptying out into that swelling sac.

Christine kissed him, hungrily. “You believe me now?”

*
He told her everything. The layout of the fortress, the patrol paths, the occupants, the safe rooms and armouries. Everything. Almost. Howard kept speaking until the shifting bulge was noticeably softer, and the muffled, gurgling screams were weak whimpers instead. He tried desperately not to think about what they meant.

His voice cracked and broke for the last time, as his brain ran out of knowledge. “And… and that’s… th-that’s all I know.”

The foxtaur looked at him coolly.

“I p-promise! I s-swear it, I d-don’t know anything else!

Christine shifted her haunches, bringing her pulsing, swollen sac into hideous relief. Now there weren’t even any whimpers. The entire thing simply looked like a bag of liquid, resting heavy and churning on the ground. She smiled.

“She doesn’t really m-matter anyway. She’s just sort of... our l-leader. I d-didn’t think it was important.”

“Yes you did,” Christine purred. “Else you wouldn’t be telling me now. Go on, hun. Why is she important?”

He hesitated, and broke, and he told her about the Lady. Christine narrowed her eyes, her expression inscrutable. She had incredible eyes. Up close, and she was very, very close, they were like galaxies of indigo, swimming beneath her dark lashes, fixated utterly on him.. She had incredible everything, and she was still pressed against Howard, completely calm and confident.

She’d just murdered Gemma. Killed her in cold blood. God, what was he thinking? He’d done
what she asked. He’d helped. He could still escape alive, and that was all that mattered.

“Is… is that okay?”

The foxtaur nodded thoughtfully. “Flat mask, you said. Yes, I think that might do just fine.” She flashed a grin of very sharp, very white teeth. “Thank you, Howard. You’ve been such a good little kitten.”

There was a pause. She was still looking at him. Howard, trying to resist the urge to wag his tail at the belittling compliment, coughed weakly.

“W-will… will you let me down?”

A blink, and the eyes were back in focus. Christine grinned again. “Oh, of course. You’re going down, don’t worry.”

This was not reassuring. Howard blanched beneath his soft creamy fur, his eyes flicking wildly to the foxtaur’s underbelly. Christine smirked again.

“Darling, I said if you didn’t tell me what I wanted to know, I’d slurp you down my shaft.” She nuzzled at him, her muzzle slim and elegant, hot breath pouring over him. She had powerful lungs too, lungs which hummed as she whispered in his ear.

“I never said anything about what would happen if you did tell me.”

Just like it must have been for Gemma, the world went black.

For a moment, the terror was so overwhelming that Howard could not even move or speak. He felt the slight prickle of the vulpine teeth below and above his head, the soft fleshy kiss of her tongue on his chin, the wet, humid heat of her mouth. The air tasted like foxes, and a lot of other species, too.

She licked at him, her tongue lashing playfully across his entire face, drenching him in hot, sticky, saliva, and swallowed. Her throat rippled and expanded, dragging Howard’s skull downwards and his shoulders into her jaw.

Now he began to struggle. He screamed out loud into the hungry blackness, writhing and trying to kick out at her. It did nothing The vulpine had jaws like steel, and the more he pulled against her, the sharper her teeth dug into his shoulders.

“N-no, no, no!” He tried to pull at her neck, but then strong fingers interlaced with his own, pulling him forwards and offbalance. The monstrous fox took the oppurtunity to give another wet, squelching swallow, slurping down his shoulders. Now his forearms were pinned, and all he could do was wave the rest of them feebly as the horrible she-beast swallowed him alive.

It was so hot. The walls around him were sweltering to the touch, and they were touching every part of him, so that the heat simply soaked in like her slick, slurping saliva, saturating him until his every movement exhausted his muscles.

Not that it stopped him. Another mighty gulp - now he was in so deep that his belly was being gripped by those teeth instead, his slim waist swelling the fox’s monstrous gullet, and his legs were slowly rising into the air. Around him, Christine’s powerful throat squeezed even harder, and he realised with flooding terror that she was lifting her head deliberately, fingers holding his legs steady as she slurped him down. His head was encased in blackness and pressure, his stomach sliding in, his spotted hips being wetly lapped at by the thick, slick tongue. And he could still do nothing.

He knew now without doubt that Gemma was dead already, or doomed to be so soon. And if the monstrous greedy shaft of the foxtaur could do that, then her belly would surely be even more dangerous. He could hear it now, the echoing drips and gurgles of a body outweighing him several dozen times, welcoming him into his hot, fleshy home.

Now gravity was pulling him down, his paws flailing at the sky as the foxtaur simply tipped her head back. His thighs were sliding inside, every inch met with squelches of flesh, and her tongue was tasting him the most intimate of areas.

Howard shuddered with terror and pleasure as the thick, soft thing grinded itself against him again, smooth and wet. He was being swallowed. Devoured. Killed. How in the hells could he be getting hard?

Devoured and killed by the most impossible, beautiful, confident female he had ever met… who was also lapping at his bucking, writhing shaft with an expertise he could not have imagined. It was not exactly mysterious.

Christine smiled around her prey, leaning against the wall to relieve some of the pressure on her swollen sac and groping softly at her heavy breasts with one hand, as her other stroked tauntingly at Howard’s legs. Thank the heavens she had decided to fill her belly with him. The leopard was utterly delicious, so much so that she didn’t even mind holding him here, halfway down her gullet, while she lapped at his helplessly sensitive organ. In time with each lascivious lick, her own gluttonous member pulsed, its new, freshly digesting load - Gemma wasn’t done yet, it’d be a few hours of sticky, steamy agony before her consciousness fell dark in the mass of creamy fluid she was being melted away into - lying heavy and delicious beneath the foxtaur’s body.

The same fluid was dripping over Christine’s tongue now, as the feline broke beneath her unstoppable assault, gasping weakly in the tunnel of her throat. He bucked and squirmed against her, trying to find release from her gullet even as she gave him that same release. Little thing. He had been sweet.

But she was so hungry. Without another thought, Christine overrode her tastebuds and jerked her head back, letting the momentum carry into a swallow which tipped Howard over the edge, sending him sliding straight down. Her throat rippled and convulsed, and the leopard went down, down, kicking and wriggling. Calves, ankles, and she was slurping over his wriggling toes, feeling the hum of terrified screams deep inside her, utterly silenced by her solid form… and

gulp

The foxtaur moaned huskily as her lungs re-engaged and her bulging, twitching throat slowly deflated, the form inside sliding down, into her chest, past her breasts, past her first stomach, swelling it out delightfully, and into her lower half. For a moment, it was as if her quadrupedal half’s powerful chest had simply absorbed the leopard completely.

Then her soft stomach bulged and sagged, internal chambers distending as breakfast finally entered. Christine gave a soft quiver of perfect pleasure, feeling the sheer weight sway deep inside her. Her paunch hung weighty and bulging, any features of little Howard lost behind the cushioning flesh.

She licked her lips, feeling him squirm. The acids were already eating into him, she’d been so ravenous. There’d be a moment of terrified writhing from sheer claustrophobia, a pause when he realised exactly what was happening… and then he began again, skin already beginning to burn. Now the screams were real, but all they created was a pleasant hum deep within Christine’s body, her padded form hiding the sounds almost completely. Except for a couple of wet, drawn out gurgles.

Christine patted his twitching bulge with a forepaw, shuddering pleasantly. Now the hunger was a little less urgent, and she could properly go to work. She deliberately crushed her shifting gut beneath her as she crouched low, picking the lock with a set of pins hidden in the seam of her bra.

Corridor heading along, three doors, two to broom storerooms, one to the mess room. She’d checked the plans on the way here, and now the entire building sat comfortably in her a head, a perfect three dimensional map. Now, Howard - her stomach gave a noisy slosh of acknowledgement - had said that most people would still be asleep. The room would have a few early risers.

And yet her nose told her that there were two passing by right now. Had her first course been lying, or had these two just been unfortunate enough to be going past right now? It didn’t matter.

She closed her eyes, adding together the information from her nose and the information already in her head. And… now.

To be continued~

[Avios]

Christine continues her quest for a nutritious and satisfying start to the day. This involves ending the personal journeys of a fair few more people, and making a new and rather special, if probably temporary, friend.

I promised you even more foxtaur. It comes! Hope it lives up to Part 1.

Foxtaur, vulpine, robin, panda, avian, ursine, human, H/F, H/FF anal vore, oral vore, unbirth, unwilling, digestion, fatal, endo, cruelty, bird

Infiltration and Ingestion Part 2

The door slammed open so hard it nearly fell off its hinges, and then things began to happen fast.

Two of them, both females. One assault rifle, one shotgun, held lazily as they wandered down the corridor. They began to turn, eyes wide and surprised: green, on a rather sweet looking robin, deep brown on the red panda next to her. Christine stepped forwards, still behind them, and swept her front paw out, smashing the panda from her feet. The robin began to raise her weapon, and the foxtaur twisted, leaned down and yanked it from her hands, lifting her from her feet and throwing her backwards. Christine moved with her, stamping a forepaw down heavily on the panda’s leg as she slipped a hand beneath the robin’s arm with perfect dexterity - while she was still in the air - and neatly unclipping the breastplate of her body armour. The robin landed in a heap as the panda hunched over, yelling in pain, and the foxtaur switched targets, plucking a radio from the mammal’s clutching hands before her fingers found the button and smashing it into her chest with enough force to lift her off the ground.

Christine casually snapped the aerial off with her thumb, dropped it, and sat down, breathing hard. Two and a half seconds had elapsed.

She plucked the muffler from a pocket on the back of her now discarded bra, and activated it again, humming cheerfully as the two tried to recover, staring at her with terrified and (after all, she had hit them quite hard) tear-glazed eyes. The panda guessed first, judging from the sudden gasp she gave as she stared at Christine’s heavy, sagging belly and balls. The foxtaur confirmed it with a smile, standing again - her height even more imposing with them on the ground - and stepping towards them.

“There’s a door behind you, I know. And you want to flee.”

She leaned down, tracing a trimmed claw along the side of the panda’s muzzle. Instinctively recognising what would happen if she flinched, the ursine simply trembled with weak terror. Christine grinned. “What’s your name, darling?”

The robin stared at her, spellbound by terror. Her friend quivered against the foxtaur’s large palm. “P-Penny. And s-she’s Violet.”

“I’m Christine.” Christine crouched down close to her. “Do you know why I’m here?”

The two looked at each other and back to her. Penny swallowed. “You’re… you’re with the, the criminals trying to take, take over?”

“Close.” The vulpine shifted her body to the side, bringing her plump flanks into view and handily blocking the entire corridor with the ample expanse of her body. Her tail, huge and fluffy, draped itself on top, framing the scene. “I am the criminals trying to take over. I’m the one you sent them crawling back to - well done on that, by the way. And now I’m here to get the job done myself. So about that door… don’t bother. Don’t try it. You’ll only make it worse-”

This time when the two looked at her softening belly, they definitely knew what it meant. Violet screamed a high, avian yell of fear, scrambling to her feet and making for the door behind her, and as the spell broke, Penny followed, desperately trying to escape their doom. Christine sighed with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance. She’d seen it a hundred times before… but she had to admit, it was still quite fun. She stood up and moved.

Fifteen seconds passed, full of incident. Most of these were because Christine had to get the damn clothes off.

The door opened inwards, so by the end of it Penny was pinned by a heavy forepaw against it, dazed, stunned and faintly transfixed by the sight of Christine’s swollen, churning sac. She was naked. Some six feet above her head, Violet, whose pretty, small chested avian form was also bare and who was bleeding faintly from the forehead, had the foxtaur’s powerful forearm pressed against her neck, choking as she was pressed more firmly against the door.

“Believe me now?”

“G-g-g-gaargh…” Violet replied eloquently, frantically pulling at her arm.

“Thought so. Now, the thing is, the two outside - you can see them from where you are, Violet, get a good look - they already told me what I wanted to know. So all this was taunting, really. There’s nothing you can give me. Nothing you can tell me. All you can do…”

Without breaking her indigo gaze from Violet, she spread her paw over the shaking panda beneath, shoving her hard and sending her skidding backwards on the floor. Penny yelped as she slid under the weighty swell of the vulpine’s belly, braked only as her face slammed lewdly into the hot embrace of the vulpine’s orbs, so swollen with Gemma’s mass (still alive, barely) that they hung a full two feet beneath her belly. Christine shivered at the sensations, but the panda hadn’t been intended to stop there. She flew between the powerful hind legs, drawing to a stop just beyond Christine’s massive hindpaws.

The girl sat up, coughing groggily, and looked up. Above her rose the foxtaur’s strong legs, a bloated sac which was still gurgling audibly - although it didn’t seem to have a shape in it any more - and a soft, curvaceous rump which, with the fluffy red tail raised, was displaying everything without the slightest shame. Above the heavy sac lay a plump mound, a slit nearly a foot long already leaking a steady dribble of fluids down the soft silky white fur beneath, and above that was a ring of blackness, thick enough that the flesh itself was as wide as her head, but drawn tight; puckered, wet and glistening. Everything was so obscenely outsized, so sexual, that she stared, even more transfixed than she had been by the enormous sheath from the front. Only a second passed before the raw terror overwhelmed her and she made to flee, but that was all that the display’s owner needed. Christine clasped Violet to her, hugging the robin’s brown-feathers tenderly, and sat down.

SQUELCH.

Violet stared at her, beak dropping open. Christine did not look back, because her eyes were closed and her lips parted in a deep, throaty moan of absolute pleasure. God, this felt so good. She squeezed the air from the robin’s lungs, tasting her breath, and shifted her ample behind from side to side, feeling the way the stunned, shaking panda tickled the inside of her bowels.

Then the shock wore off. Penny began squirming. Pitch blackness, heat and what felt like rippling flesh surrounded her body on all sides, squeezing and massaging her in time with the immense pulse of the foxtaur’s heartbeat. She could barely breathe, and everything which wasn’t trapped in the vulpine rump was being crushed beneath her bulk, her legs burning with the pressure. And already, the soft sticky seal of the foxtaur’s pucker was beginning to slurp over her hips.

She screamed, the sound escaping as a very, very faint hum in the artificial silence of the muffler, broken only by Violet’s choking breaths, Christine’s needy heaves, and the gurgles of the rest of her body. The foxtaur stood up slightly, feeling her prey beginning to slip out from gravity, and slammed her ass back down, burying the panda a few inches deeper. Her guts needed filling so badly…

She let the robin breath again, relaxing her grip. Violet gasped a huge staggered breath, falling against the embrace of Christine’s heavy breasts, and looked up with terrified eyes. The foxtaur smiled back, almost regretfully. Almost. “Sorry darling,” she murmured, “caressing the slim curve of the avian’s spine. “No last words. I just need you inside of me so badly.”

And then the world went dark. Violet screamed with utter terror as hot, pulsing flesh surrounded her head, the lethal pinpricks of the monstrous fox-creature’s teeth pressing firmly into her neck. For a moment, she thought it’d be bitten off, and then Christine swallowed, her throat rising like a tide to submerge the robin’s twisting skull in a wet, gooey grasp, and Violet remembered the pair of legs kicking from under those heavy vulpine haunches, and she screamed again. They were going down alive, both of them. And like the sentries outside, now just a swollen sac and rippling belly, it wouldn’t even end then.

She kicked out desperately, writhing in the foxtaur’s grip, and screamed into the humid depths, answered by a wet, acrid gurgle. It smelled like cat… Howard? He’d been posted outside, hadn’t he? Oh gods and demons, no!

Her slim torso slid into the voracious jaws, the taste sparkling through Christine’s brain wonderfully just as her greedy rear finally slurped its way over the widest part of Penny’s hips. The redoubled wriggling in the deepest part of her bowels indicated that the panda had guessed what Christine already knew: now there was no chance of resisting the vulpine’s powerful inner muscles. Either that or the sweltering sticky flesh had just galvanised her into more screaming. It didn’t really matter. Christine stroked Violet’s head tauntingly as it slid down her engorged throat, her large ears savouring the silence of the corridor. Despite two morsels sliding into her digestive tract at each end, and another two already inside her and - still - alive, the only sounds which escaped were the faint hum of frantic screams and the wet slurps and gurgles of her body at work.

She gulped again in synchronicity, her rump and her maw simultaneously cramming a full half-foot of gorgeous wriggling flesh into her form. Breakfast had been such a success… and there was still a whole buildingful. And this “Lady”... unusual creature. From the way Howard - her belly churned around him, and she gulped again, idly lapping at Violet’s navel and making her wriggle in ticklish agony - had spoken of her, she was no mere civilian. Perhaps some hardened mercenary? Christine hoped so. It was refreshing sometimes to get a properly tough nut to crack, not merely the easy pleasure of a weeping young innocent.

A firm clench of her rump told her that the innocent panda trapped in there was nearly all the way in, her squirms stretching the churning bowelflesh in every direction at once. Christine stood up, loving the weight of her sloshing sac and doublestuffed belly as it pulled on her haunches. But she lifted it anyway, dipping her spine in a perfect curve as she raised rear and mouth to the heavens, letting gravity and gluttony squeeze Violet and Penny inside her in flawless sychronity. Squish. Slurp. Scream. Power.

She felt her plumping nether lips quiver with it as a mild, low-burning climax swept over her, flooding her veins with molten joy. Entire lifetimes nothing but fodder, to pad out her thighs and provide more gallons of her next load. This was being a god. This was ascension. She gulped, needily, and tasted Violet’s scaly toes on her tongue, the dry surface an interesting change to the soft silken feathers. Her thick ring was sealing around Penny’s own feet, the pathetic wriggles all that remained of the girl’s resistance. Good.

Penny was still screaming, trapped in a dark hell which had no end. She felt every rippling contraction ease her in deeper as relentless as death itself. She could barely breathe, every inch of her packed against smooth, slick flesh which moulded itself perfectly to her, reacting to every frantic kick and scream with a liquid, lewd squelch. The heat was nightmarish, seeping into every muscle as the rippling walls of the foxtaur’s ass gorged on her. No rank scent as she might have expected, instead, the rich fleshiness smelt almost inviting, pulling her inside by her nose. No, no, no! She felt her feet kicking against something solid and tight, Christine’s puckered tailhole slurping around her ankles. No, it couldn’t be that far in! Not already!

The cascade of churns which sounded from the fox’s guts sounded like laughter. Her bare pawpads felt a new touch, something soft and unbearably light and fluffy. It was Christine’s massive tail, the great fluffy thing trailing teasingly over her raw pawpads.

Penny was ticklish.

She screamed, writhing frantically, trying to reach her captive feet as the foxtaur’s tail swept in long, slow waves over them. Unbearable waves of hilarious agony swept over her until she chortled as she cried, writhing in the pitch darkness.

And then just as she was certain the horror and the sensations would kill her, the sphincter swallowed around her feet.

Slurp.

Gulp.

Violet felt herself spinning down Christine’s throat, Penny slid fully into the fox’s gluttonous rump. Each knew on an instinctive level that the other was now fully inside, just as they were. They screamed, howled and writhed, they kicked at the fleshy walls holding them in, they called Christine a hundred names under the sun.

The foxtaur lay on her back, listening and pawing gently at her nethers with her feral half’s forepaw while she fondled her breasts. The bulge in her lower belly slowly merged with the general heaviness of her hindquarters as Penny delved deeper and deeper into her hundreds of feet of intestines. Violet, meanwhile was still sinking past her slender humanoid half, twitching and rippling as she left what would have been Christine’s belly had she possessed one in her upper half. After a full two minutes of slow, sticky squelching swallows, she joined the distended bulge. Christine tweaked her pulsing, hard nipples, swaying her massive form from side to side. Four people… one bulging, bloated foxtaur.

Penny was sliding past a bend, her body contorted painfully as the last glimmer of light vanished around the corner. The fleshy walls gripped her tighter as she oozed further inside, drenched in fluids and sweat and tears, and she cried with pain and despair. She would last longer than any of them, due a long, slow journey through the endless morass of Christine’s innards before she even reached the stomach. Violet, meanwhile, had just reached it, pushed out of the clenching embrace of Christine’s gullet into a furnace-chamber of flesh and acid. She landed, slathered in the sweltering liquids, gasping at the acrid, stinging air, wailing with terror.

Christine had excellent hearing. She laid back a moment, watching her shifting gut, and waited. Sure enough, after a moment the rest of her belly exploded into squirming ripples as well. Violet had discovered what was left of the leopard.

Howard couldn’t speak any longer, but he still managed to scream back at Violet, clutching at her with raw, bloody hands. The robin didn’t know what was worse, the horror of what less than an hour in the fox’s monstrous stomach had done to him, or the realisation that in a short time she would share the same fate. She saw the glint of recognition in his maddened eyes - two years they’d known each other, before they’d joined this mad, doomed defence effort to try and keep their home safe - and hugged him, wincing at the feel of melted flesh against her feathers. The world was vile.

The leopard whimpered, mumbling with agony, but he hugged her back as the walls clenched on them, crushing them together until air was a choked, gasped commodity, and she could not comprehend the boundaries between Christine’s vast body, Howard’s agonised form, or her own shaking flesh. They were all due to become Christine, adding to the enormous frame of the strange creature. No escape. No escape.

She screamed and wept in the darkness as the acids of the foxtaur’s heavy stomach began their cruel work. The sound left a light tingle in Christine’s lower chest, and she shivered happily as she raised herself, her body feeling even heavier and more blissfully stuffed. Three lives in her gut made an adequate breakfast, and another in the sac would fuel her desires for at least a few days. Not that she couldn’t indulge a little. She was still fast, fast and quiet. And there were at least nine others in the building that she could smell, wafting deliciously on the air… plus this Lady, who she didn’t seem able to discern at all.

She needed to stock up for the next couple of days if she didn’t want to hunt every damn morning. Relishing the slow, constant tingle of life-or-death struggles in three different locations within her form, the Don Vorascini went to work.

*

She’d never been angry. Leo found herself stepping back, despite the full foot of height and solid hundred pounds he had on her. There was something terrifying about so much anger in such a small person. Like a spring wound too tight to unwind properly, so it only shook with all the energy locked down in it. Like a cornered animal with nowhere left to run and nothing left to fight with.

He felt something press at the edge of his mind, survival instincts wanting to lash out, yell back, hit back, and suddenly he had clenched his fist. The Lady saw it, her monologue skipping a beat. She cut a strange figure, little more than five feet tall, slim and sleek in build - but at the same time, that curvaceous form filling out the sleek green jumpsuit which hid every inch of her could only be female. Her hands were gloved, her spine seemed to have no tail. No-one was really clear what species she actually was. Her entire head, face, ears and all, was hidden behind a mask of smooth precious porcelain. Even her eyes hid behind tinted glass lenses.

She looked at him for a moment, or at least he assumed she did, and then she turned away, shaking with suppressed fury. “Leo. Please. You have to go. I… I am begging you. I will give anything. Just… please. Go.”

“For the angels’ sake,” he snarled, stepping forwards. Leo was a hyena, tall and strong and determined, grey fur and grey eyes. “Ma’am, I’m not here because it’s something fun to do on a Sunday night! Don’t you understand why I’m - why we’re all here?I wanted to make a difference to this place! Help protect it! We all did, and we all knew what it meant! What we might have to give up! You were the one telling us we should fight back in the first place!”

“You do not understand!” she snapped back, voice soft and clear even in anger. “Leo, listen to me. You can’t do anything here. She’s got so much strength. I can feel it. You fight mortals and you think you know fear and you’ve mastered it, but for heaven’s sake, you have no idea. Do you what being helpless really means? What it’s like to be nothing, worse than nothing, because they might as well be god to you?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. Mortals? Gods? Ma’am, you’re talking mythological here.”

“I’m talking about what’s coming right now, Leo. Run. Please. She wants me. You’ll just be a morsel on the side, easily forgotten.”

“I. DON’T. CARE.” he cried. “They’re all gone, ma’am! They’re dead, or-or captured! Every fucking radio is dark and we don’t know what is going on and, and I can’t let it end. I have a home, a family, a-and I won’t let these bastards take it without a fight, okay? Please.”

Unbidden, he felt the urge to hit her. Make her understand. Make he know what pain was to him. Make her suffer.

The Lady broke away, pressing her elegant paws to her head. “She’s not getting here for another hour at least, I’m sure of it. How can she have already taken them out? It makes no sense. But Leo, you… you...you stupid... brave... g-glorious mortal.”

She hugged him, her body warm and soft. He held her tiny frame, and wondered what she smelt like under all the clothing. This was a good moment.

“How touching,” drawled a voice from the doorway. “Should I let you stay together? Would that be the kinder way to go?”

The Lady broke away, spinning round to face her, and Leo grabbed his pistol, aiming it squarely at the newcomer’s heart. Or… one of them…

He stared at the apparition, looking up and down from her heavy paws to her slim, curvaceous upper body. Black hair cascaded down her bare back, countered by the pure whiteness of her front. Heavy breasts swayed as she walked towards them, ears ten feet off the ground. She was beautiful and monstrous in equal measure.

Then he saw what was behind that extremely pretty face.

Beneath the slender, anthro body, the lower half, the enormous quadrupedal fox, was bloated almost beyond belief. A mass of huge, shifting bulges hung less than two feet from the ground, slowly rippling and churning before his very eyes. He knew what they were instantly, but it wasn’t until the thing shook of its own accord that he realised they were still alive.

The monster followed his gaze. “I was going to knock all of you unconscious after the first four,” she purred, her voice deep and rich and incredibly feminine. “But there was this rabbit… he was so adorable. And then I had to take his mate, didn’t I? Couldn’t part the two of them, it’d break my heart. It was only two more though, the rest are sleeping peacefully outside.” She patted her flank, stomach swaying, and Leo saw the enormous set of genitals behind. Male? Female? She defied all of them. “I don’t think you’ll be sleeping, however…”

“Wait!” The Lady strode in front of him, arms upheld, her body language somehow unsure. “This makes no sense. You’re not her. You’re not…” she cocked her head, “not even demonic? You’re fully mortal? Just... just who the hells are you?”

The foxtaur smiled at her, showing no fear at Leo’s pistol. “Don Christine Aviscuro Vorascini. Head of the Vorascini clan, ruler of a lot of criminal enterprise, and soon to be murderer of…. well, that’s six of you so far. It’ll be going up soon. And you would be the so-very-mysterious Lady, would you?”

The Lady took a step forward, her hands tightening to fists. “I am,” she said quietly. “And you’re a monster.”

Christine rolled her eyes, leaning her bloated girth against the doorframe. “Having a body like mine means I get called that a lot, darling. It’s sort of lost its sting by now.”

“It’s not about the, the physical form,” the Lady growled. She had that immense, compressed anger again. “It’s about what you’re doing with it. Six? Six? You... you damned, damned murderer!”

The foxtaur smirked. “Oh, yeah. That’s true. But enough about me. Why are you so special, huh? What even are you in the first place? I don’t suppose a reptile? I could really go for a scaly dessert right now, you know.” She took a step forward, and Leo jumped, holding his gun higher. Christine glanced at it, perfectly at ease.

“Or I could take some hyena first. Put that gun down, sweet canine.”

“No.” He cocked it instead. “You murdering bitch.”

“Heard that one too. You’re Leo, right? Sadie mentioned you before…” her stomach gurgled noisily, “well, you know. But listen, hon. I’ve got a lot of flesh here. You won’t stop me with a few bullets unless they’re in exactly the right place. And besides… who said it was just me you should be looking at?”

She nodded at something behind them, something Leo could not see. He whirled around, gun pointing frantically at the newcomer… who did not exist. There was nothing there. He snapped his head back round, and Christine was upon them, moving like a bullet herself. The Lady was kicked clear away by a scything forepaw, hitting the wall with a sound of breaking glass, and Leo, staggering, had two quick punches to his wrist which opened his hand. She was fast. The gun was snatched away, and he was on the ground, pinned by the heavy, hot weight of the vulpine’s lower body, her pistol pointing at his head. Christine smiled, her eyes huge and violet and utterly insane.

“Fell for it? Really? I’m enough on my own, I think. Now then, the last person to point a gun at me begged for death for five days before I let her have it,” she purred softly. “I’ll give you at least a week, va bene?”

There was a sharp crack of steel on bony flesh, and Leo collapsed, unconscious. Christine dropped the pistol next to his body and stood up, sighing as her belly, bowels and balls complained at the motion. “Alright, alright,” she muttered to it. “Just one more? She’s tiny, anyway…”

The Lady lay sprawled a few feet away, groaning feebly. Her mask had smashed against the wall, and Christine’s bare paws avoided the sharp shards as she stepped towards her, leaning down to pull her head up.

“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, amore. I know it’s just the way of the world for people like us. We’re angels and demons, aren’t we? Fighting from the big bang ‘til Armageddon. But still… I’m going to enjoy this. Now, let’s take… a look… at… you...”

She stared, and the Lady stared back. She had no fur, scales or feathers, her skin a pale peach and utterly smooth. Large, emerald eyes sparkled with tears as she looked up, brushing a lock of silky deep scarlet hair from her forehead. Her face was oddly flat, with no real muzzle and a slender tiny nose.

Christine had never seen her species before. And yet she was the most beautiful person she had ever seen.

The foxtaur flinched back, gasping slightly as the radiant beauty hit her. And that brought her scent to Christine’s nose. Sweet, clear, rich and layered, delicious beyond measure. Her mouth watered at the slightest scrap of it.

She had to kill this creature.

She had never, ever wanted to hurt someone so badly. Every breath the Lady took sparked images in Christine’s mind of blood and pain, of devouring her a thousand times and never tasting her enough.

A small part of her wondered if this was what love was like.

The Lady herself broke the spell, taking advantage of her attacker’s stunned moment to pull herself free of the hand which held her and stepping away, trying to flatten herself against the wall. Christine blinked slowly, breathing in lungful after lungful of the scent which made her gut, distended and wet, ache with desire.

“What are you?” she whispered.

“T-this species... is called human,” the Lady said quietly, gesturing to herself. Though clearly terrified, she did not seem at all surprised by the foxtaur’s reaction to her.

“Oh really? And what are you yourself?”

“I-I’m never… I’m not t-telling you what I am.” Her eyes glistened with tears, uplifted towards her assailant four feet above.

Christine leaned down, the better to see the soft curves of her victim’s body. “You have that effect on a lot of people, huh?”

The human shrugged, her soft hair bouncing gorgeously. “W-why do you think I wear the mask?”

“Hmm. It blocks it, huh? Well, you’re not wearing it now,” Christine purred, feeling the desire rise again in a flood, all over her body. “Gods… what is your name? I need you. I… I need to kill you. So, so badly.”

“I am Aurelia.” The young woman shuddered at the words. “And I… I won’t let you.”

“Let me?” Christine stroked her bulging flank. “You’re going to stop me? Seriously?”

“You’ve guessed already, I’m more than just a human,” Aurelia snapped. “You want to risk it, m-mortal? S-see what I can do?”

She was bluffing. Hard, and pretty well, really. Christine wouldn’t have cared if she was telling the truth, so painful was the lust. She took a step forward, then another, and gripped the little human by the throat, lifting her up. The gasp of pain was not merely pleasing; it actually sent little fires of joy coursing through her body. Aurelia actually caused her pleasure.

“I don’t care what you are,” Christine whispered, with the passion of a devotee speaking to their goddess. “You’re mine.”

She couldn’t just devour her now, and waste so much potential on one meal. But she couldn’t possibly just leave with her and not experience that wonderful form inside of her… Christine ignored the frantic struggles of the strange creature against her arm, thinking desperately for a moment, ravenous to feel her prey. She was actually dripping with excitement from the thought of it.

A slow, cruel grin spread across her face. There was still one hole she hadn’t bothered to fill. Perfect.

Aurelia was still writhing against her hand as the foxtaur began to pull off the jumpsuit, revealing the soft, sensuous curves of her body. Christine had to admit, the lack of fur worked rather well here, leaving every part of her prey utterly uncovered. Maybe she could find more of this species sometime… She took no notice of the pleas and threats, yanking off the bra and panties of her prey. Her body was so ripe, so fresh, so smooth. Christine had never felt anything like it before. She set Arelia back down, pressing her to her chest as the human-shaped being began to cry. “You… you won’t get a-away with this,” she whimpered, eyes glazing with tears. “There’s someone else c-coming for me, and-”

“You say you know the effect you have on people,” Christine hissed, “and you think I care? Less talk, little morsel. More wriggling.”

She slammed the girl to the ground, pivoting her body around so that her great tail brushed over the young woman’s face, soft against her smooth skin. Aurelia tried to disentangle herself from him, coughing at the silky fluff, and then she looked up and went even paler.

Christine’s wide rear, swollen belly and balls hanging beneath it, hung over her, bloated and heavy. There was the plump ring which had claimed Penny - still alive, not even beginning to digest but still screaming in terror in some impossibly deep tunnel of the foxtaur’s hungry intestines. And beneath it was a swollen pair of lips, a fur-edged, pink-lipped slit as long as her forearm, dripping with the juices of sadistic lust.

Aurelia, Christine was delighted to find, guessed immediately, her horror and surprise evident in her soft gasp. The mere sound of lips parting with a whisper of soft smooth flesh on flesh told her everything she needed to know. The little human tried to scramble away and back, too consumed by fear to try and stand or fight, and for all the brave talk before, she was so terrified that Christine could almost feel the waves of it coming off her small, sleek body. Gesù, she needed this one a million times over.

Which was why the delectable morsel wasn’t sliding down her gullet already. A meal like this had to be savoured to the fullest possible extent, and so Christine needed to keep her alive for now. Although it could liquefy full-grown people(and had many times), her womb was the slowest and least violent of her innards, such a slow worker that a day inside it would simply exhaust and tenderise Christine’s prey without causing major physical injuries.

That and flood herwith constant, endless pleasure for the entire duration. After such a meal she needed to relieve at least one of her sexes.

The scent still making her mouth water and her stomach churn with longing even through its load, she splayed her hind legs, placing one heavy paw each side of Aurelia’s trembling form, trapping her, and slowly, teasingly lowered her enormous body towards the human-shaped creature. The stretching made her slit gape, wide and soft and dripping wet, fat droplets of gooey liquids onto the keening Aurelia’s naked body. Christine shivered with lust.

“I promise I’ll kill you soon enough, sweet little thing. I just want to make sure I can make the experience the best meal I can possibly have.”

A moist, obscene squish of flesh on flesh cut off Aurelia’s furious yell of terror and rage. Christine gasped, and much more faintly, so did the little toy. Her head had been engulfed, hair and ears and all, by the greedy lips.

The skull, even without the protruding nubs of ears or a muzzle, seemed to fit perfectly into Christine’s nethers. It felt perfect.

And then she sat down further, and the slender, pale shoulders slipped effortlessly inside, and that, too felt perfect.

Aurelia screamed, lashing out with her arms and legs, but all she could kick was the foxtaur’s swollen balls, and they were tougher than her frail frame. Christine groaned, enjoying the light tickling as she ground her rump in a slow, greedy circle, sinking her prey inside and feeling every stretch of silken, slippery skin. The shape, the texture, the squirming…

She arched her back until her distended paunch touched the floor, squeezing her upper half’s trim belly, her hips, her breasts… anything to add to the sheer weight of sensation pressing on her nervous system. Aurelia’s breasts, soft and rather large for her short stature, were now being swallowed, and the foxtaur’s nethers were adding their own effort, a slow, wet peristaltic ripple gulping more of the human’s gorgeous body into her.

And the little thing wriggled. The tremendous heat and sensations of wave over wave of lapping flesh frequently paralysed entrees to Christine’s womb with a mixture of despair and intense pleasure, but not this time. Aurelia writhed with every ounce of her being, screaming and wailing into the wet, insulating layers of her captor’s body. And it wasn’t simply blind terror, either - she wasn’t wildly flailing, but moving with purpose. Shaking and sobbing, certainly, but if it wasn’t for the enormous weight of the foxtaur’s body and strength of Christine’s inner muscles, she might have actually managed to pull herself a few inches out.

As it was, the tug of war was just glorious. She let her rear slump down further, lips slurping at the perfect soft tender stomach as Aurelia resorted to kicks - more pleasant jiggling for Christine’s sac. It was hard to explain exactly what felt so good beyond the normal. The human felt wonderful, but it was more than that. The mere act of making her squirm and cry, making her suffer, seemed to tap straight into Christine’s pleasure centres, until she was reduced to drooling, eyes closed with fireworks behind them. It was like a drug.

She ground her belly against the floor, feeling, somehow, the anguish of the poor souls this firebrand had tempted into taking up arms against her. It was breathtaking. Aurelia knew all of it, and through her, Christine sensed it. The hellish heat and rippling muscle they were gripped by, the slow slurping motions directing them ever deeper… every sensation, every misery, of every innocent soul trapped inside the distended body of the gluttonous foxtaur, flooded into Aurelia, enough to drive a mortal insane.

And through her prey’s despair, Christine climaxed, claiming her prey’s hips and soft rear in one hungry swallow of her nethers. Her blood sang with joy. The silent room echoed to her gurgles and squelches and raw throaty moans of joy. In, in, in, in, in.

She rolled over onto her back, using her forepaws to massage the swaying bulge of her stomach, feeling for the first time not merely the slow-melting bodies, but the living souls inside her. The lives snuffing out, the potential consumed.

This was godhood.

She squeezed her thighs together, claiming the last few writhing inches with a gluttonous grace befitting of her status as deity of the inhabitants of her body. Aurelia vanished effortlessly, a faint whimper of horror all which escaped her devourer’s plump body as her twitching toes were gulped wetly inside. The foxtaur’s lips sealed closed, thick and soft and glistening, bulging a little from the inner pressure.

Of course, the sensations - mental and physical - did not merely stop. It was all Christine could do to stand up, her body shaking from the sensual, spiritual onslaught. She dropped her phone when she took it out to call a cleanup crew, swearing and turning the expletive into another cry of pleasure. She never dropped things. This was insane.

The foxtaur stretched her head back, closing her eyes, drawing on the meditation techniques she had learned to suppress the pain of combat wounds - Christine was fast and strong and her body could heal a shotgun blast in three weeks, but cazzo, bullets still hurt - and using the calming hum to draw a veil over the roiling pleasure of her loins and her gut. Her shaking limbs stilled, mostly. Better.

She dialed, her fingers only trembling a little this time.

“Hey boys. It’s the Don. Tell Hendrik to cross the resistance in the new territory off the list.” Her stomach sloshed. “...Permanently. And start arranging to move in. I’ll also need transport for… seven, I think, to the larder at my estate. They’re unconscious, don’t worry.”

She waited, smirking, and sure enough Vito paused for a moment in fear and disgust before he said weakly, “R-right away, ma’am.”

“And get the car to come back round. I’m not going out in public like this.”

‘Got it.”

The foxtaur eyed the hyena she’d knocked out before. “Mmm. Don’t harm any of the new snacks to much, please. Be gentle. Hurting them will be my job.”

She wandered towards the door, waddling a little with her distended belly, which churned in protest. “Good. Good. And, actually, while you’re on the phone, caro, cancel my appointments for the morning. I have to work off breakfast.”

Christine patted her plump flank, flicking the phone closed again. “And besides,” she murmured lovingly to a certain bulge hanging particularly far back between her hindlegs, one which was still making her lips drool with pleasure fluids, “I’ve got to get ready for dinner.”

[Tsubasa17]

MOAR! MOAR! Soon! Or whenever you're not too busy. Hopefully soon?
Can the next one be with two preds please? Oh please, oh please, oh please?!

[Avios]

MOAR! MOAR! Soon! Or whenever you're not too busy. Hopefully soon?
Can the next one be with two preds please? Oh please, oh please, oh please?!

Well, I suppose this lil' epilogue sets the scene for a potential few predators. We'll have to see. A little hook for more stories to come. If I write them. <_<

Because Christine wasn't the only one looking for these vigilantes and their mysterious leader. The stage is setting for a confrontation.

For any confused readers, the magnificently large, partially demonic(on her mother's side) bovine in this story is none other than Rose, who has already appeared in a couple of stories of mine. Here's where she begins, if you need help. http://aryion.com/g4/view/296600

Queen Melavascia really isn't a very good mother. No wonder Rose has such issues with regards to other people's rights!

Tags:
Cow Demon nonvore story bovine endosoma fatal magic fat female predator

Infiltration and Ingestion
Epilogue

A day passed. For Christine, smugly padding over the delicious bloated weight of her softening belly, it was a very satisfying one. For the idealistic young men and women of the fledging “unofficial neighborhood watch scheme”, as they had jokingly called it before the situation became very, very unfunny, it was a miserable and fatal one. For the being known as Aurelia, it was horrible. Even after millions of years, she still felt the suffering of her flock with the same heartrending despair.

For the threat which Aurelia had felt coming before Christine took her out, it had started well, but was about to go downhill.

The air in the abandoned building coiled around itself in strange patterns, warping and roiling as a single point of magenta light appeared, glowing and stinging. It contorted in on itself, pushing through the walls of this universe. And something came through. The world warped around her mass, letting her squeeze through the gap in dimensions, and flop, breathing hard, on the floor.

The creature stood up. She was gigantic, a mass of snowy-furred flesh standing only a few feet below Christine’s height of ten feet - and being fully quadrupedal rather than tauric, she had far more mass. Powerful legs supported a massive, swaying gut and set of swollen pink udders, both gurgling softly with impatience for the feast they were promised. The creature brushed black hair out of her heavy-lashed, magenta eyes, and stretched, luxuriously, licking her plump lips.

There was no-one there.

Rose was not particularly discouraged at first. The other rooms would have held her target. But as she drew a breath in, filling her lungs with the air of the building, there were no scents or soul-traces younger than a day.

She frowned, tail swishing thoughtfully, and slunk through to another room. Signs of a scuffle, but no occupants. And the next. And the next.

Oh dear.

The cow groaned, sitting down on her massive haunches with a splinter of wooden planks creaking beneath her weight. No, no, no! This was crazy! She’d come as soon as she’d woken up!

After almost a full day of pleasuring herself to the messenger's struggles, that was. Rose found the little tingling patch which was his soul and squeezed it mercilessly, making it writhe in blind, uncomprehending agony. Stupid demons. Stupid her. Stupid mother.

She took a deep breath, and blinked. Her eyes glowed magenta, with a hint of dark, burning crimson.

It took almost five minutes before she was even heeded. The cow scowled furiously as her mind made way for the presence of Handmaiden Pelusciell Alatesyx, chief attendant to the Third Matriarch of Gluttony. The demon’s voice blossomed in her mind, smooth and heavy.

“Princess Rosakarina? You honour me with your presence.” The disdain in her voice made it clear that this was not the case in the slightest. “What can I do for you, your voraciousness?”

Rose made sure to regulate her breathing, but her teeth were still gritted. “I need… I need you to tell her Majesty that the information in the command she sent me was wrong. There’s no-one here.”

Pelus gave the mental equivalent of a snort. “Oh, for Hell’s sake! You want me to tell her that you failed her? I don’t know about any command, but if you’re going to be the lumbering, slow-witted, mortal beast you so want to be, half-breed, you can tell your mother your-”

“SHUT. UP.” Rose snarled, making Kayar writhe blindly deep inside her. “Shut the hell up or I will digest you until the damned one rises again, alright?”

“Hmm… no.” Pelus tittered cruelly. Both of them knew that she was too valuable for Rose to devour without consequences. “So… half-breed... like I said, you’re not-”
“Rosakarina? Pelusciell? What is this?”

There was a pulse of fear from Pelus, and Rose herself winced as the rich, smooth tones poured into her head. Her Majesty, Queen Melavascia Palascien Kivibra Orenelo Velvena, ruler of the United Hells and third Matriarch of Gluttony.

“Hello, mother,” Rose said sourly.

“Pelusciell, leave us. Now. I will speak to you about your disrespect later.” There was a hint of dread as Pelusciell faded from the conversation, leaving Rose alone with the Queen. The cow swallowed.

“Now, Rosakarina, do you mean to tell me that you have only just entered the target area? The message was sent more than a day ago, you realise?”

“I know!” Rose snapped. “I was busy. I have my own life, mother. I’m not dropping everything to serve your whims, like one of your pathetic lackeys.”

“Busy. Of course.” Melavascia sent a pulse of snide, angry amusement. “I notice the messenger I sent has not returned.”

“You said in the damn message that the target had set up in here for the long term! I believed I had time!”

“No, Rosakarina. You believed you could be lazy and still get the prey. That isn’t how the universe works. But then, you’ve never shown much interest in how the universe works, have you?”

The cow pawed the floor with a hoof, like a bull ready to charge. “I know enough, mother. I was enjoying myself until you dragged me into this.”

“You were at liberty to ignore it, like you do everything else,” Melavascia snapped. “You only came because you were planning to eat her yourself, weren’t you?”

The cow blinked, nonplussed. “You knew that? Then… then why did you ask me?”

“Because, “dear” daughter, I was planning to use you as the method of transport. You’re predictable. I knew you’d go for her. All I needed to do was wait until you had her tucked inside, and then simply summon you back to my palace. With your cargo intact.”

“What?” Rose gasped. “You… what?! You were just going to summon me back?”

“I can do it at any time, you know that.” Melavascia gave a mental sigh. “Your soul came from mine, I can recall it to me quite easily. Frankly, the only reason I chose you was that anyone else might have thought to be clever and betray me. You were predictable. I knew you’d simply try to fill your gullet.”

“You - you - you were using me!”

“Because you let yourself be used.” Melavascia gave her a lazy mental caress. “In this world the strong use the weak. You knew this from birth. You can run away from your home, but not from the universe.”

Rose gritted her teeth, smashing the helpless souls of her bowels’ captives into splinters of agony. “Shut. Up.”

“I will. Thanks to your incompetence, I’ll now have to send some of my own more reliable operatives to secure the target. You’re no longer needed, Rosakarina. You can forget about this and go back to wandering the worlds and preying on mortals.” She snorted mentally. “Poor prey for a promising creature like you.”

“Promising?” Rose hated the pathetic tone of hope in her voice. “I’m promising?”

“Oh yes. If you could just learn to focus on a bigger picture than today’s pleasure. Instead, you’re just a waste of potential.”

“Well, you… you... hells, it’s better than being one of your lackeys. You manipulative bitch. Why is this “Lady” even important?”

“It doesn’t concern you anymore. Forget her. I’ll deal with it myself. Goodbye, Rosakarina.”

Melavascia was gone. Rose stared at the empty room, blood afire with rage. Every one of the souls trapped within her writhed beneath her cruel fury. Even Alice, the poor part-angel girl languishing in the cow’s heavy udders, was soon twisting in pain as well in the sweltering heat, the purehearted girl screaming soundless agony at her creamy, burning surroundings. Rose ruled her body with an iron-shod hoof.

So, mother was sending her own troops, was she? She’d show her. She’d find the Lady before they even set foot on this world and never, ever let the Queen even see her. And whatever Melavascia wanted her for, Rose would take it instead. All hers.

She sniffed the air again, more carefully, and caught a new scent. Canine… no, vulpine. Male… and female, too. Two of them? But it smelt like one, who was both… Interesting. It was a start.

The cow stretched her immense body, flickering heavy black eyelashes. Slowly, her playful smile returned. She began to follow the scent.

Hells, this could even be fun.

[Avios]

Continuing the rather loosely connected narrative in my previous stories. Rose has just found the last location of the target she was supposed to apprehend on behalf of her mother... but the strange human-like creature Aurelia is gone, stolen away by unknown forces. But Rose is determined when she wants to be. A few very complex spells, and she need only wait an hour before she finds exactly where her prey has gone. One hour, hmm? Just enough time to nip back home and have a little snack.

I'm not dead, everyone. And more importantly, Princess Rosakarina is not fucking full, not by a long way. I hope you enjoy.

(Bottomless) Pit Stop
By the Court of Predators

“There’s no doors on the left side. You?”

Arim shrugged sharply, speaking in an urgent, hushed whisper. “Nope. Nothing at all. This is insane! How the devil did she get a damned apartment with no bloody entrances or exits?”

“Maybe they were bricked off afterwards?” Ella tried to see if any of the pale white walls around them were blemished. She saw nothing.

“Alright, then what if she wants to, to remodel? Get something replaced? How does she get it in here? Demolish a wall and then build it back up again?

Ella jabbed a finger at the window next to them. She could see her reflection in it, pale and black-haired, a little tall and a little curvaceous, outlined against the city outside. Where even was this? London? Chicago? Hell, were they even in the same universe? “We’re fifty stories up, anyway! Christ, how’d she get everything up in the first place?”

“Exactly! See, this place has to have an elevator shaft or a flight of stairs somewhere. Some door to get out of here. Surely!” Arim grimaced. He was a slender, handsome young man of Iranian descent, with thick, curly black hair and slow-burning eyes. In other circumstances Ella would have found him very good-looking, but right now she wasn’t thinking about it at all.

“Did you check behind the bookshelves?”

“We can’t move the bookshelves! She’ll notice! She’ll know we’ve been… trying… to...”

His olive skin paled, and Ella turned around to see an orb of magenta-tinged light hovering in the centre of the room behind them. Quickly, she and Arim moved away from each other, communicating frantically with frightened glances. Just act natural. Don’t say a word. Oh god.

They watched, heartbeats rocketing upwards with fear, as the light spread and tore, squeezing into the fabric of the universe and forcing a hole. There was a sense of unutterable distance made tiny, and both the humans averted their eyes before they began to water. And through the gateway came the mistress of the household.

She could move almost silently, with an unnatural elegance totally at odds with her colossal bulk, but not this time. Rose Velvena practically stampeded into the world. Her powerful shoulders rose above both of their heads, which might not have been so intimidating if she was actually humanoid. But Rose was, quite unmistakably, a cow. A gigantic, towering monster of a cow, unknowable tonnes of creamy-white furred flesh, speckled with jet black patches which rippled over powerful muscles, layered with heavy, soft fat. Her oversized, overstuffed udder swung as she cantered in, big as a bean bag and soft as a waterbed. She had a mane of black hair which a model would have been jealous of, and eyes which betrayed her true nature more clearly than her size. Rose’s eyes were huge, heavy-lashed, a stunning shade of bright magenta, and sharp with unnatural intelligence. A half-demonic bovine. Ella would have laughed at the idea once. Once.

Right now those monstrous eyes were burning with magenta magic from crossing over, narrowed with concentration and a surprisingly level of anger. Shaking the floor, the great cow slowed ponderously to a halt, sending jiggles across her heavy body. She blinked away the glow of her magic, glowering, and then she saw them.

The cow blinked again. She gave a long, drawn out sigh, and her thunderous expression melted slowly into a warm smile. It looked odd on her bovine muzzle. She had forgotten about them, Ella thought. Two lives ripped out of the world and she hadn’t even bothered to remember that she’d taken them.

“Hello, you two. Been having a good morning?”

*

There was silence, before they remembered they were supposed to answer. “Yes,” said Arim, stiltedly. “W-we… we cleaned the rooms as you asked.”

“Good, good. I’m not staying long, just an hour or two until my spells find me what I’m looking for. Now, it’s been a frustrating morning, and the rest of the day is going to be… busy. If you wouldn’t mind, please get me a drink. You know how I like it. Arim… no, Ella, that’s your job. Arim, you’re with me.”

He winced at the way she spoke his name. Rose’s voice was like molten gold, smooth, rich, heavy and entirely inhuman. “Y… yes, ma’am.”

The cow took a step towards him, looming over him. “I told you. Rose is fine.”

“R-Rose! Sorry! Rose!”

“Bit better.” The monstrous mistress flashed a grin, exposing thick white teeth which seemed a little too sharp for any bovine creature, and turned away, clopping through one of the heightened, widened doorways. Her belly and swollen udders swung with every step. “Damn it, I think I left my headphones in the bath. Be a good little mortal and fetch them. I’ll be in my room.”

Rose did not wear clothing, and her long tail didn’t bother to hide what lay underneath it. Both of the humans averted their eyes, flushing. She was a cow, for god’s sake, Arim thought. That heavy, faintly glistening pair of female lips was a cow’s.

A soft giggle came from the other side of the mountain of flesh. She knew it all.

“When you’re done admiring the view, I should say I’m not feeling patient today…”

Ella flinched, and with a final frightened glance at Arim she slipped out of the room towards the kitchen. He himself hurried out, along the wide corridor lined with strange, otherworldly paintings and posters, and entered another room. Once again, he wondered how long the demonic creature had lived here. Nothing in the house was makeshift or native to normal-sized people. The bathtub was a towering edifice the size of a small swimming pool, ringed by great urns which held strange, scented oils from other worlds. The pair of white-rimmed headphones which, sure enough, laid on the side, were perfectly sized to fit around Rose’s powerful skull - which was to say he had to carry them in both hands. Who made all this? What kind of factory had regular customers on this monstrous size and scale?

He swung the headphones over his shoulder and began to walk towards the mistress bedroom, shivering a little. He had been here for two weeks. Ella had stayed a little longer. He had been at home in bed watching Netflix on a lazy Sunday morning. And then she had walked out of the air itself, squeezing her bulk into his room - smashing the flimsy bed to splinters - and told him to get on his knees.

“You’re pretty cute. Noticed you a couple of years ago while I was in the area hunting a fallen angel, and the way your soul shone just… stuck in my mind, you know? And now I need someone around at home and you look perfect for it. But my belly would rather I crammed you into it right now, along with everything else which squirms. So beg. Prove your life is worth more to my mind than my body.”

Arim had grown up imagining that he would be a great hero, brave and resolute like the second-rate shows he watched on television with swords of cardboard. He had been disappointed to discover that Rose had only needed to prove her existence with a wet, rapacious lick of his bare chest, and he was hers. He kissed her hooves, wept into the folds of her belly as he massaged his tiny hands against it, felt the bloated churning heat of her udder as he relieved some of the pressure with jets of thick, sticky cream, staining the room he would never see again. She placed a hind hoof on his head and pressed his mouth against the plump nozzle of a teat, filling his mouth with it like an animal nursing their young. The taste was unimaginable, like magical energy crystallised into a sticky, sweet cream which filled his mouth and nearly choked him - and he kept swallowing. Before long his trembles ceased, his occasional squirms faded, and he lay there against her, suckling blindly, moaning when she finally prised it loose. The cow had claimed him, marked him as her own until the end of time.

She brought him back here, dazed and feeble and craving more of the creamy milk. Ella was there, and another two people who had since gone to attend Rose alone and never returned. All of them had been taken out of the blue, made to serve, made to drink. They didn’t have many tasks to do, really. They kept the place in exquisite condition. Sometimes they made Rose coffee. That and water was all she drank, and she made her own eating arrangements, leaving through the holes she made in the universe and returning, body bulging and gurgling, turning lives to milk and fat and pleasure fluids half a dozen - or more - at a time.. A lot of the time she simply wanted them there while she relaxed, to crawl around the mountain of her body and rub it, adore it, massage its churning swell. She fed them only from her udder, each serving leaving them weak and shaky with addiction and shame, but otherwise completely healthy. It was an oddly peaceful existence, and Rose only hurt them playfully, an occasional tease with a heavy hoof or swell of flesh. But all three of the household knew that one day, her stomachs would win over her mind. And that was why they had to, had to, had to find a way to escape.

Til then, just survive. He swallowed, and pushed open the vast doors to Rose’s bedroom. It was as outsized as the others had been, the bed an ocean of soft pillows and quilts upon which the mistress lounged lazily, her soft form looking like another, extra-large pillow. There was a large television mounted on the opposite wall, next to a strange, alien device with several mirrored facets which he didn’t want to ask about. Currently neither was on, and the great creature was staring into space, her eyes glowing hot with pure magical energy. She smiled, a large ear flicking at his footsteps.

“Hello. You have them?”

Arim could barely nod before another flash of magenta light enveloped the massive headphones, lifting them out of his hands and up towards the cow. They fitted neatly around her ears, and with another twinkle the other end plugged itself into a small music player next to one forehoof. Rose gave a soft grunt of satisfaction. “Ella had better hurry up with that. I need relaxation, and that’s nigh impossible unless there’s something heading down my throat.”

She looked at him, her eyes fading back to their spellbinding “normal”, and raised an eyebrow. Arim was certain his heart stopped beating.

Rose giggled and tossed her head, beckoning him to her. “A massage will tide me over til she gets it done. Come up here.”

The human bit back his fear and obeyed, clambering up beside her. Fearfully, he placed a hand on the mountain of flesh, and it sank in almost instantly. Trembling only a little, Arim began to push harder, leaning against the plump expanse of the cow’s massive gut. The heat soaked into him like a physical thing, soft and heady, filling the very air with the strange, sweet scent of Rose’s fur. He quivered, hating how quickly his blood stirred at the smell, hoping for another serving of addictive milk. He was better than this. Wasn’t he?

Rose growled gently, leaning into the rubbing hands. “Good… Damned One, I needed this. Deeper now, Arim. Come on.”

Arim obeyed, hearing now the deep, deep gurgles of the organs under those layers and layers of fat. He felt sick and pleasantly drowsy at the same time.

A minute passed. The cow sighed, tapping one of her forehooves on the other. The gesture bemused Arim until he she spoke, and then he realised it was frustration.

“The problem is, I don’t have anything to do right now. Those spells are completely autonomous. They create captive Sorcerous spirits bound to obey my will to the ends of the universe. So all I can do right now is wait until they tell me they’ve tracked the target down.” She chuckled, a little impatiently, swinging her head round to look at him. “And patience is not amongst my many virtues.”

Arim shook a little at the gaze, pressing himself into the soft flesh of her belly. He tried to respond. “T-the… the target?”

“It’s a long story. The short version is, someone in another universe has taken someone… very special. I’m not exactly sure what makes her special, but it’s enough to make my damn mother want her at all costs. And that’s why I’m going to take her myself, and probably whichever delicious idiot decided to kidnap her in the first place. I just need to track down where she’s been taken.” Her tail smacked the pillows. “So I wait. Fourth Hell, I hate waiting.”

The idea of a monstrous beast like Rose having a mother was too absurd to take in - and the venom in her voice when she spoke of her was even more ridiculous. Arim blinked a few times. “You have… family?”

“Oh yes. My father was just some mortal bull seduced and devoured by Mother a long time ago, but if there’s one thing an Immortal’s lifespan will give you, it’s a lot of family.” She sighed. “That’s actually the problem with the Hells in one word, actually. Lifespan.”

For once, curiosity overcame fear.

“Hell is… real?”

She smiled at him, shifting around to snuggle him - forcibly - into the crook of one powerful foreleg. “Aww, curious, are we? Well, curiosity is a desire, and all desires should be indulged. Hell is very real. It’s not quite a normal universe like the mortal dimensions you lovely little morsels live and squirm and die in, but it’s real. Oh, and you don’t go there. Not Heaven either. Mortal souls fade to nothingness upon death. You just die forever.” The thought brought a smile to her face. “You’re all so easily snuffed out, that’s what it is. How can you take someone seriously when they’re just so much fun and so little effort to… end? Mmm… anyway, but that’s also what I can’t stand about the Hells. Immortals don’t age, they don’t get sick, they don’t even need to eat or breathe. So the only way things ever change is through violence and treachery. It’s so damn stupid. Everyone is too busy trying to protect themselves and come out on top that nothing ever gets achieved.”

She paused, prodding the little human with her heavy muzzle. Arim didn’t react. He had barely heard the last few sentences. Rose laughed, softly. “Ohh. The afterlife thing, is it? I suppose it can be a bit of a bombshell. Sorry, little thing. Death is only oblivion. The universe is not a kind place to those it deems weak and delicious.” She paused, then licked his bare chest, slurping over the smooth flesh and pressing him deeper into her soft stomach. “Mmm. Pure misery. Delightful.”

“We… we just die?”

“Well, with me you squirm first. But yes. There’s nothing beyond for you. You’ll just melt away inside me, and all that will be left is what you add to my gut. That’s how you’ll end.” She wasn’t even pretending to have intentions other than eventually eating him. Arim felt weak, and would have fallen straight over without the gently churning weight of Rose’s great white belly to support him.

“Oh, god… Oh god, oh god. No. N-no.”

The cow smiled, tenderly and sadistically. “Awwww. You know, I wasn’t even intending to tell you about this now. Was saving it for when I really wanted to make you suffer. But this is still exquisite… or it would be if I had some damn coffee. Ella? Where is she?” Rose tutted. “Be a good little bundle of calories and go find her, would you?” She nosed him off the bed, giggling when he barely managed to stand, and a gurgle from that horrible, monstrous stomach sent him fleeing. “Oh, and please don’t tell her. I want to enjoy doing that myself.”

*

There was no need for him to tell her.

Ella leant against the wall outside, setting down the bucket-sized mug of steaming coffee - black and strong with half a pound of pure sugar, and a dozen spices she didn’t even know the name of - and felt her life falling away from her. She was not religious, and would have simply said she didn’t know if someone asked her what came next. Life had seemed more important than death.

But not like this. Not answered like this, and not by the great plump monster who would surely send her churning into oblivion herself. And not even to her personally. She had told Arim first. Ella had leant outside the door, pausing to gather her strength before entering the demon’s terrifying presence, and heard her telling him it. Why? Why did Arim get to find out?

What if Rose was confiding in Arim because she was planning to keep him around longer? What once those doors opened, so did the cow’s wide, wide jaws?

No, that was silly. If anything, the intricate pleasure Rose was taking in telling the young man indicated that he, not Ella, was the next course.

Still though… the horrible truth had brought it into sharp relief. Maybe they could escape together, but if one of them had to go, then the other one still had a chance. And she could not face death. Not now. Not when it meant pure nothing.

She felt ashamed at herself. Where was her courage? The paranoia twisted her blood vessels into hot and cold knots, and that was when Arim came out of the door and saw her leaning next to it.

He started, speaking quickly in their hushed whisper. “Where were you? Jesus, she... I… I thought she was g-going to…”

“Did you,” said Ella, carefully. “So… so.”

She hesitated, and thought of something, something terrible. Something inhuman.

And yet she didn’t pause for more than a second. And then it came easily. She said, “Go. I’ll give y-you just a few minutes to yourself. I’ll tell her that - that we must have missed each other on the way back the kitchen.”

He looked at her with such gratefulness that Ella thought she could actually feel her soul blackening. This was something deeper than fear and dread. This was cold terrible mortal survival instinct. “Thank you. Man,” Arim said. “I… I can’t stand this. We’ll get through it okay? W-we’ll… we’ll get through it.”

He hugged her, quick and passionate, and set off down the corridor, going a different way to the one she’d used to add credibility. Ella picked up the the coffee bucket, grunting with effort, and walked laboriously into the bedroom.

“And not a minute too soon,” came the cow-demon’s smooth tones. “Next time do please try and bring it faster. I despise waiting for things.” She turned her head slowly, and her eyes were opaque and glowing again. “And where’s Arim?”

Ella shrugged, acting as innocent as she dared. “I… I thought he was with you.”

“I sent him out to find you. You must have gone different routes again. I’m starting to think I was a bit excessive when I set out my living quarters here. Didn’t need to eat quite so many previous tenants.” She laughed easily, rolling onto her flank and sending her belly swaying and churning in the air. “But indulgence is one of my weak points as well. It’s always more fun. Bring it here. And yourself too.”

Obediently, Ella padded closer, and felt a strange electric ripple across her bare flesh as an aura of deep magenta enveloped the immense mug of dark, sweet coffee, levitating it out of her hands and towards the cow. Rose’s eyes were barely shimmering with power. Telekinesis like this was effortless for her.

The glinting miasma listed the mug to those thick, soft lips, and Rose drank. Try as she might, remembering what she had to do, Ella couldn’t help but pause then as she watched the cow’s throat ripple, swelling with each thick, hot, rich mouthful, and then collapsing on the bulge, sending it sloshing down to her greedy, greedy body below.

Rose drew the mug away, a gallon and a half drained in those few swallows, and she hadn’t even drunk half of it. She dabbed her lips delicately with a hoof, a strangely human gesture. “Mmm. You do make it so well. Dark as night and sweet as a secret.” She looked at Ella, and nodded towards her flank. “Now now. Less standing, little thing. My belly’s dealing with a lot more than just coffee right now, and it loves the appreciation.”

Ella finally snapped out of the daze. She had to be better than this. She nodded, eager in her fear, and nearly leapt across the great bed to bury herself in the squishing, churning mound of the cow’s swollen belly. Giving in completely to worshipping it came surprisingly easy, and there was nothing unpleasant about it. Rose kept herself extremely clean, and her natural scent was far from unpleasant, exotic, rich and almost sweet. The soft silky fur and layers of fat squeezed and gurgled gently against her touch, and the cow gave a soft purr of pleasure. “Oh, we have some proper enthusiasm this time? Delightful. Normally the only good massage my belly gets is when someone’s wriggling against it from the other side.” She closed her great eyes and began to nod her head rhythmically, the growl of delight turning into a gentle humming of whatever she was listening to on the oversize headphones. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Ella obeyed, but she didn’t have long before Arim returned. She broke the silence, continuing her rubbing of the bloated belly. “You’re going to eat me though, are-aren’t you?”

One of the eyes cracked open, fixing itself on her. Rose gave a smile more terrifying than any fierce glare could have been. Playful, amused, and… the only word Ella could imagine was predatory. The demon spoke softly. “I do like to tease you around the subject, I know. But if you want a certainty: yes. Sooner or later. I’ve haven’t chosen yet where you’ll meet your end… although I have… ideas. But it will be slow. And it will be very final.”

A cold, cold shiver ran down Ella’s spine. She couldn’t stop now. “I-I… I understand.”

A second passed, then the other eye cracked open. “That’s it? No pleading?”

Ella shrugged, biting back tears. “I-It wouldn’t work, w-would it? I’d just be wasting energy.”

“Oh, but logic never stops emotion. Emotion is more fun anyway. It’s so much… headier. Try and hold back now if you want, but it doesn’t make a difference. You’ll give in to weakness and start to plead when the end comes, though. You’ll squirm that lovely body” - she nuzzled, sniffing greedily at the girl’s bare stomach, breath hot and heavy - “oh so delectably. You’ll beg all you want to then, I promise you.”

“I… oh…. I-I know that.” Ella said, weakly. “So… this isn’t pleading for my life. This is… a request.”

The cow opened both her big beautiful eyes fully, gazing at her. She removed her headphones in another glow, laying them neatly besides her. “That sounds like bargaining, which is just pleading with a little more composure. Go ahead, little one. I’m listening.”

Her voice was as gentle as ever. Ella swallowed, pressing herself against the smooth churning heat. “I… I don’t want to go. Of course. B-but… first I want... to spend more time... with you.”

Rose blinked, sensuously. Then she smiled, just a little less predatorily. “And why would that be?”

“Well…” Ella shrugged, helplessly. “You’re... you just so…” Horrific. Unnatural. Terrifying. “...so overwhelming. I know you have… others to claim and things to do, but… I just want to… I… I feel like I… like I’m sort of… fascinated by you.”

She wasn’t actually sure if she was lying or not, she realised through the fog of fear. There was something devastating… gorgeous about Rose, from her eyes to her hair to her total confidence. Even her body was… magnificently monstrous, in a way no human form could ever be, accentuated by heavy curves and soft edges. Power. Gentle, merciless, crushing power. Make no mistake, she still wanted to live. Desperately. But to her shame, that wasn’t the only reason she was doing this.

Rose blinked a couple of times, fluttering her long, dark lashes. “Really?” she purred, her voice now as soft and silky as liquid gold. “That’s very sweet of you, little morsel. A lot of lives went into making me as beautiful as I am, you know. I’m sure they’d be happy to know their sacrifice is appreciated.”

Here it came. Ella leant against the heat of the cow’s great belly, and let it soak into her. Down here with the white fur to hide in, it felt easier to give in to these dark instincts. Rationalising it felt better. It’s inevitable, isn’t it? And it’s far more likely she’ll take both of us if she does, and then no-one manages to escape. I just need a bit more time, I know it. Just a bit more time. “So… um… my request is… is…”

Hot, sweet, humid breath poured over her. “Yes?”

“I want to… to see you eat someone.”

At that moment the door clicked open open, and from it came Arim’s voice.

“Oh! I… I’m sorry, I didn’t realise she’d already come to you, Mis… R-Rose. Ella… Ella? Is everything okay?”

*

Normally, Ella would look at him instantly, even gratefully, desperate to have an excuse to look away from the monstrous cow. But this time she barely raised her head. Rose herself didn’t have any problem at all, and gave him a wide smile.

“Oh, don’t mind her. Come in, Arim. You see, Ella? Doesn’t he just have perfect timing?”

Ella said nothing, simply snuggling tighter into the cow’s heavy paunch. The thick flesh nearly engulfed her, spilling over her tiny human frame. Arim frowned. “Did… did you tell her about the… the thing?”

“Hush, Arim. Nothing matters but having you worshipping my udder in eight seconds time. Come up here.”

He was still too on edge to do anything but obey, giving only a small sniff of despair as he clambered up besides them, and took his place next to Ella. Rose’s great milk sac was even softer and smoother that her stomach, completely furless and with no internal organs, just hundreds of gallons of thick, sloshing, churning milk. Arim gave a quick prayer to any gods that he might get out of this alive, and fell onto the mass, squishing into it like it was almost a liquid itself. His hands swept over the soft pinkness, pushing into the gurgling fluids inside, trailing around the swollen shafts of the cow’s teats. He must have rubbed the right way, because Rose gave a sudden, throaty moan of pleasure, and a thick dribble of cream splurted from one teat, splattering his arm.

He kept up the massage, noticing that Ella didn’t seem to be doing much at all, simply hunched into the mass of fat and flesh. Arim gave her a little nudge.

“I said don’t worry about her, Arim. Keep going. And Ella, darling… you know what you’re talking about here, don’t you? This isn’t fantasy, little pet. I devour things alive, and nothing is left of them but softness on my belly and milk in my udders. I kill people. A lot of them. I’ve never pretended it was anything less. I’ve never wanted to.”

Arim kept his eyes on his own work, and the sloshing, churning results, but he couldn’t help but frown with confusion. What were they talking about?

Ella gave a small sound. The massive cow’s head nosed closer at her. “Hush. I know, I know. You’ve spent so long blinded by these adorable little mortal ideas of good and evil. But they don’t exist. There’s only power and pleasure. And if you can find a way to make it yours… take that opportunity. Grasp it with all your desire.”

Arim realised he had stopped massaging the bulging udder. He stole a glance upwards at the other two. Rose was looking straight at him, but rather than give a playful, merciless threat, she simply continued speaking.

“So say it. Don’t act like it won’t have consequences. Tell me out loud what you want me to do.”

Ella raised her head, slowly, her black hair falling in a way which mirrored the cow’s great beautiful mane. She looked at him. She was very pretty, Arim realised. In all his fear he’d barely even noticed her soft naked body throughout all of this.

“I want you...” she said, speaking to Rose, “...I want you to… to devour him.”

The cow smiled.

“Why, I thought you’d never ask.”

Swiftly and suddenly, she was on her hooves, towering over them both, the mattress creaking under her sheer weight. Arim fell back, flat on his rear. His words seemed all jumbled up in his head.

“No,” he said, weakly, and then, “I don’t, you, I, no, I… what? What?”

Ella sat between them, looking as frozen as he was. Arim ripped his gaze away from the monster-bovine to stare at her. He couldn’t feel any anger in the storm of baffled confusion. Why? Why? This couldn’t be it, surely? This couldn’t be death? This couldn’t be now?

“Why… why?” he whispered. “Why would you…”

“So she can watch,” Rose rumbled from above them. “So she can see me slurp you down and churn you up. So she can feel you turn from person... into bulge... and then not even that. That’s the idea, am I correct?” She nuzzled at Ella’s back, and the human closed her eyes, quivering and arching herself against the blunt muzzle.

“But… but why? Why?” Slowly, the fear was spreading over him, a sort of cool, gentle rush. “Why?”

Rose laughed, freely and easily. “I think you know why I’m doing it. Because I want to. And Ella… she wants me to. You don’t want it to be him, I’m sure, Ella, but you want it all the same. Say it again for me, will you?”

“I… I want you to swallow him. To take him. To… to possess him.” Ella spoke in a whisper, her eyes full of tears. But still she said it. Arim felt his own eyes blurring.

“Please,” he said, desperate, and he wasn’t sure which person he was saying it to. “Please, I… I’ll give you anything - I’ll, I’ll milk you, I’ll massage you, I… I’ll bring you others! I’ll - I’ll - PLEASE!”

With each word he scrambled backwards, until his head collided sharply with the headboard. They blocked his escape route to both sides. Rose stepped forwards, smiling.

“I’m taking everything, little one. Everything you are or ever will be. A layer of softness on my belly is your only legacy. Or… no, you know what? I won’t even bother to keep a memento of you. You’ll just be pleasure.”

She loomed over him, a titan in black and white, her body radiating heat and power from every curve.”Ella, stand here. Watch me.”

Arim looked at Ella again, trembling with desperate confusion. Say something, he pleaded. Tell her to stop, tell her you don’t want this. Give me just another few seconds, oh god, another few seconds of life.

Ella nearly did. He saw her lips quiver around the words. But then she drew in a breath and shook her head, imperceptibly. Almost to herself. “Okay,” she whispered, and again, not to him.

“You…” he muttered, again not able to quite summon rage. “You… you can’t… we’re… we were going to es… we…”

Rose laughed softly. “Don’t worry, Arim. You’ll find the energy to squirm before long.”

Arim whimpered. Rose smirked. Ella said nothing, but she did at least look at him. She might have mouthed something, but he couldn’t be sure, because the massive cow looming above him began to swivel around. The mattress shifted and dipped beneath the immense weight of her hooves, and Ella almost fell over. It was like she was twirling for him, showing off her form, her muscled, padded frame, her soft slab of a flank, her great swollen udder. The body which she intended to add him to. Then she gave her wide hips a little shake, making her belly jiggle, and he knew that was exactly what she was doing. Arim looked up at the plump cheeks, as each wide as his arm was long, and the softly furred mound below there, just before her flesh faded to the pink of her udders.

“No,” he said, again, shaking too hard to stand up. “Please, not there. Please. Please!”

Rose looked back at him, widening her stance. The motion stretched her lips a little, and a dribble of thick, gooey fluids poured from deep inside. She was drenched already. She grinned, eyes sparkling pink with pure lustful desire. “And don’t forget, Ella. You both know there’s nothing else afterwards, is there? He’d enjoy this last burst of sensation before he’s just dribbling down my fur. He’d better squirm.”

Ella’s eyes widened, and she looked at the cow instead, showing a burst of fear. Rose smirked.

“Goodbye, Arim. You were a delight.”

“Wait-” Arim screamed, desperately, and then those immense legs squatted, and she sat down on him, aiming just right to plunge his head and shoulders into clenching, dripping, steaming darkness. He felt flesh squeezing over every inch of his face, as smooth and soft as silk, and his face was full of thick, honeyed fluids. Arim gasped for breath, almost choking on the sudden sweetness. It was a more violent, possessive kiss than Rose had ever given him before. He felt the immensity of her body all around and above, huge, heavy, infernally powerful. And hungry. Even as he pushed against the soft flesh around her nethers, hands sinking into the layers of previous victims, he felt the layers of her sex squeezing inwards, slurping and pulling. Despite the slick wetness, it was completely irresistible. He spluttered on his second scream, mouth filling with the gooey fluids. It was like the cream of her udders, but far, far more... sexual.

A great ripple passed through the walls crushing down on him, a full on swallow - Christ, what sort of anatomy did she have? - and he was dragged unwillingly inside up to his navel. The motion pressed his arms to his sides, stopping him from pushing back against the cow's enormous rear. Not that it did any good. Arim had never felt anything as strong as this.

There was a rumbling, vibrating noise which made his helpless body quiver, and he realised it was a moan. God, she was loving it. Arim yelled the few Arabic curses he knew, legs kicking at the wall of flesh which was her udder, as the cow slowly straightened up again, lifting him off the ground. Even as he remembered her soft teases, even as he felt the ripples of ecstasy it gave her, even as he knew just how much he was playing into Rose's hooves... Arim began to squirm.

*

Oh, he was good. A shame she couldn't taste him, of course, but the shivers of pleasure pouring from Rose's overstuffed loins more than made up for it. She squeezed around him, straightening up fully and letting the long, sugar-brown legs flail in the air beneath her tail. "Oh... I told you so, Arim. " She caught the sensation of his hands pressing in, each finger massaging a pressure point all on its own, and arched her spine with joy. "You'll squirm."

So intense were the waves of ecstasy crashing over her that she barely remembered that Ella was there. Then she thrusted particularly hard, slurping up his hips with a playful squelch and listening to his frustrated, half-sobbing scream humming from deep inside her body, and her lashing tail thwacked into more soft, tempting mortal flesh. Ella was stood in the place she’d been directed to, hugging herself and shivering despite the heat radiating from her infernal companion. She was utterly transfixed by the sight before her, her face frozen in a small, shocked expression. Rose was very, very good at sensing emotions, however, and she enjoyed the light edge of arousal in the glazed eyes. And shame, too. A delicious combination.

“Don’t... look away… darling,” she panted, swaying her rear and claiming another six inches in a gasping, groaning swallow. “Oh… he’s past anger now… onto fear. He’s begging.” She listened to the stuttering pleas, broken up even more by the flesh and liquids sloshing around Arim as he squelched towards her womb. His groin was slurped in, and as usual, the heat and squeezing, hungry flesh started to do their work. Rose snickered lewdly, grinding against the little human’s growing maleness. The pleasure she caused him was a delightful seasoning to his despair and dread.

With her prey sinking ever deeper, already beginning to simply weep, she gave one final jerk of her hips and rolled over onto her back, legs in the air, head propped up against the headboard, looking like a gigantic dog expecting a bellyrub. Her udder swung and sloshed, cushioning Arim’s legs as, inch by teasing, contracting inch, Rose consumed him. Talia and Francesca had been the names of the last two to add to her heavy load of pleasure fluids, and while she’d splurted out a few gallons of them pleasuring herself to the squirms of the messenger her mother had sent - Rose gave his trapped soul a playful squeeze, the terror and helplessness driving her sex into another spasm of joy - there was still a veritable lake left, churning away in her womb. And this was what Arim was being suckled and swallowed into. She felt his head breach the valve into her innermost chamber, and swore she could feel every hair on it. She could sense the heat of his breath as he wailed in despair. Oh, Damned One, it was so, so good.

Rose ripped a small part of her attention away to look at Ella, who was still standing there where she had been left. The girl was in shock, alright. It was adorable in a way. Rose wondered if she would crawl up after her predecessor if she asked.

But she had other plans. She twitched her tail, using it to push the bloated sac of her udder off her belly, exposing the drooling lips, and the legs trapped within, now engulfed in bovine nethers all the way down to Arim’s ankles. Rose smirked, meeting Ella’s sad, lost little eyes.

“You’re following this through, darling. Come here and push him in. I want you to take the last step and condemn him to my insides forevermore.”

The human started, her black hair quivering wonderfully. “I… no… I...” she managed to say. “No…”

“Oh, Ella.” Rose laughed, although halfway through it turned into another obscene groan. “You don’t... unngh… you don’t think I don’t know, do you? I was listening to your little breaths as I told Arim about what happens after death. You think you can keep secrets from me? I own you, darling. I knew you were listening through every word. And… oh, you didn’t disappoint. Why did you send him to his churning, groaning… ungh… squirming doom, Ella? You can tell me.” She stroked her soft paunch. “I keep secrets very, very well.”

*

Ella opened her mouth, and moved it up and down. No words came.

She’d known. She’d known all along. How could she have ever thought otherwise. And now Arim was nothing but a pair of twitching toes, buried in that immense creamy white-black body, and she had done it.

She ran her hands through her hair, shaking, and nearly fell over as she tried to take a step backwards away from the radiating heat and lust of her mistress. “I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Rose laughed. “This is delicious, Ella. I love it. Oh… or are you talking to Arim? Sorry, sweetling, he can’t hear you from here. Perhaps if you buried that sweet face in my snatch he might… no? Very well. Then tell me instead. Why did you do it? Did you realise you just wanted to see it happen before you died? My body, my consumption? My gluttonous sex?”

“No!” she protested. “No! God, no, I didn’t… I didn’t do it because I wanted it!” She pressed her legs together, pushing away thoughts of the soft burn which peaked with every little pulse of the cow’s intimate parts. This wasn’t about her pleasure. Honestly.

“I don’t think you didn’t want it, though,” the bovine purred. “I think you just couldn’t look away. I have that effect on people, I suppose. The libido is quite easy to enslave with a show of sheer, orgasmic force. But go on. Why?”

“It was… it was logical,” Ella spoke shakily. “If you took one of us, you… you would take me or Arim. Probably not both, because you like having someone in the house who knows the system… to teach it to whoever comes next. And… after that… I couldn’t. I couldn’t face going so soon. It… it couldn’t be me. It… oh, god…”

Rose watched in silence for a moment, idly shifting her hips back and forth to grind against the life trapped deep inside her. “I see.”

“We were trying to escape.” Ella blurted it out without thinking. She was too full of terror to think properly. “We… we looked everywhere, and we were sure there’d be some way to get out.. Arim thought you’d leave it deliberately, like a game. I… I just couldn’t give up. So we looked, and we looked, and… I just thought what if I found it next time you left, or, or I would have, but instead you… you ate me. And I’d never even see an afterlife.” She shuddered again, almost weeping. “I couldn’t face it. I had to… I had to try. I… I’m sorry. Arim, I’m sorry.”

“Still can’t hear you, precious. In fact… watch this.” She patted her great white-black belly, closed her eyes, and squeezed her thighs together maybe two inches. It was enough. With a noisy, liquid squelch, Arim’s twitching feet were simply gulped up, swallowed completely by bovine lips. If he made a bulge, it was hidden beneath the fat and those unholy udders. It was like a magic trip. Arim had been here, and now there was just Rose. Rose, with her eyes closed, her fat tongue lolling out in ecstatic greedy joy, her sex spasming around the blockage as she suckled her prey inside completely. She was nearly empty, because the climax only lasted a minute and only unloaded three or four gallons of gooey fluids over the mattress and her udder. No human emerged amidst the splurts and splatters. He was gone, gone to melt away and become more. Ella felt her eyes burning as she watched, but she couldn’t look away, only fall to her knees as the bovine behemoth lost herself in pleasure. Finally, slowly, Rose resurfaced, her massive bulk rising and falling as she panted. “Oh… yes,” she whispered throatily. “Be mine, be mine. Churn away as slow as you can. Squirm until the end, and then just… ungggh… just melt… ahhh….”

Slowly, she looked back up at the broken little slave. “Awww, he’s praying now,” she murmured. “It seems there are no atheists in cowholes after all.” She laughed, stroking around her dripping sex with the tuft on her tail, which rapidly became completely drenched in the steady outpour. “You know, you should have said. No games or lies or…. nnnf… or darlings stuffed up my pussy. You should have just told me, you’re terrified of oblivion.”

“And… what? What would that do? You’d just enjoy sending me to it even more!”

Rose chuckled, holding up a heavy hoof. “Unnngggh… yes, yes I would. But darling… you were so desperate to live just a few weeks that you sent someone to their death for it. That’s… that’s delicious. I’m delighted in you. So I think it’s only fair I give you what you want.”

Ella hesitated. “I… what do you…”

The cow rolled over with a groan, deliberately crushing the faint bulge just above her udders which was Arim’s tight, sweltering prison. It rippled, a squirt of milk coming from her pink sac, and she hissed again in pure arousal. “Fuck, Arim… you fit perfectly… just like everyone else, sure, but don’t let that take it away… you’re special to me too. UNNF! Yes! Yes... anyway. Ella. Right. Sorry. So... you want to escape the darkness of death do you, darling? You want it so badly? Then I’ll give it to you.”

Rose stood up, stepping forwards, sniffing greedily at the human’s soft little body. “I’ll swallow you alive, sequester you away deep, deep, deep inside my stomachs. I’ll melt your body down to sloshing nothingness, and absorb away every part of it, softening my hide, thickening my hips, rolling on my belly.” Now she was almost on top of Ella, drawing possessively closer with every word. “And I’ll keep you there. It’s quite easy to tie a soul to flesh beyond the demise of its own body. I’ll turn you into bellyfat, darling. Sentient, thinking, living bellyfat.”

Ella stared at her. She found her mouth opening with no words to say. Finally, she fell back on a feeble, stunned, “what?”

The monstrous beast grinned. “That’s the delicious part. Why on earth would you want that? It’s horrible to think about, isn’t it?” She nuzzled the human. “Imagine it. Go on. Doesn’t it make your heart roar with terror? But I think you’re going to say yes, Ella. I’ll tell you why. Because I’m your last refuge. If you don’t spend the rest of my life swinging on my paunch, you’ll spend the rest of eternity being nothing at all.”

The penny dropped, and with it, her hope of living. Ella would have fallen to her knees if the cow’s muzzle hadn’t been there for support. “No,” she whispered feebly. “No. Please.”

“No? Then I can just eat you now and crush your soul myself.” Rose smirked. “It’ll be a nice addition to your taste.”

“No… god, you… you can’t...”

“Or I can let you stay, swinging close on my stomach. Your choice, sweet little darling. You sent Arim to me just to get this far. Don’t waste it.”

She held her up while Ella started to cry, burying her face in the gorgeous-smelling silkiness of the cow’s mane. When she gave the human’s bare stomach a lick, it almost seemed intended to comfort.

Ella had thought Rose was a monster. But monsters were just feral beasts. She was… something more. Something worse. Something without words.

“I…”

“Choose quickly. Or I will.”

“I… I…”

“God, Arim’s going to make me climax again if he keeps this up. If you squirm half as well, it’s practically definite. Answer. Now.”

“You… you mean you’re… you’re going to… now?”

The cow drew back her head, looking at her. “Oh, of course. You’re not those extra last weeks outside, no matter who you feed to me. Ella, honey… did you really think one little human in my womb would be enough? He teased me, the little bitch. He made me hungrier. And that’s why I have you around. So choose.”

“I… I…” Ella buried her face in the mane again. This was her fault. This was all her fault. She deserved what she got now. Oh, god…

Then she thought again. Rose had kidnapped her out of her own life. Rose had trapped her here. Rose had made her desperate, terrified, helpless. Rose had told her, again and again, that she was going to die inside the monstrous cow. Rose had taken Arim. Rose was taking her now.

She mumbled something, and it was as if some part of the weight was lifted. It felt… better. More human. Rose’s large ears swivelled. “I’m sorry, darling?”

“Fuck you.” Ella pushed herself away, wiping at the tears streaming down her face. “I’m not… I’m not giving you anything ever again in my entire life. You… you are the worst mons… pers… the worst thing I have ever imagined! Fuck you! I’m not playing your sadistic game any more! Fuck. YOU!”

Energy spent, she collapsed to her knees again, weeping freely. Rose was impassive. Then, slowly, monstrously... she smiled.

“Oh, well done. You know, it would have been cute if you stayed a pathetic little bitch until the end, but… darling, this is why you mortals are more fun to be around. You always seem to have this little hint of spirit left in you, no matter what we do to you. You never quite fully break. It’s delightful.” She took a step forwards, swaying her body deliberately. “I’m going to eat you, and I’m going to trap you on the curves of my gut. But now, I’ve got you to squirm for it as well. That’s what you’ll give me, Ella. I’ll make sure to drench you with Arim’s remains once I’m done with him. Do you think it’ll make you feel even softer?”

The human’s bravado left her, empty, drained, helpless. “No…” she mumbled.

“Yes, you’re right. Forget about what happens next. For now… just focus on this.”

Ella raised her head, just in time to see the open jaws descending. She gave a frantic cry, and no-one would hear it, because the cow’s mouth slipped over her head and muffled her forever.

Her maw was drenched with saliva, almost choking Ella the moment she tried to scream again. The heat soaked into her instantly, and her gasp only made her splutter more. The walls around her were as smooth as liquid silk, as soft as snow… but far, far more solid. The cow’s teeth prickled a little as Ella was slurped in up to her shoulders. She screamed, desperate, terrified, pulling back with all her strength and gaining not an inch. A soft, muffled chuckle echoed around her. Not that easy.

“No,” Ella whimpered, shaking in the soft grip of the bovine’s lips. “Please… no…” She had just enough light to see the glistening outline of the cow’s throat. The gullet itself was wide enough for her - although not without a lot of pleasurable stretching on Rose’s part - and horribly, abysmally dark. It seemed almost to wink at her as Rose pressed her down, sliding her jaws over the human’s tender breasts, the orbs squishing into their new confines in a sensation which was not unpleasant. Not that Ella cared. She wailed, now inches from the rippling throat, trying to pull her head back just to stay away from it. It was a point of no return, even more physical and definable that the cow’s mouth itself. Out here, she was still a person, a person being eaten, a doomed person, maybe. But past that dark gateway, she was a churning bulge and nothing more. Part of the cow. Part of Rose.

Rose lifted her head a little and swallowed, cramming Ella’s head, shoulders and chest all in one into her gullet. The pitch blackness caught and pulled at her, greedily dragging her past that boundary without even pausing. Now she was in, surrounded totally by flesh. It was so tight. The way it pressed at her, pulled at her, squeezed over her. Nothing else could possibly be this possessive. The cow lapped at her stomach, teasing her as she began to lift her head higher and higher. Gravity was funnelling Ella inside now, as if the powerful muscles rippling and churning around her needed it. She cut off another scream, trying frantically to think of something else, something which might work. Now she understood why Arim had tried praying.

And why, despite everything, despite how wet it must be making the monster demoncow right this moment… she was squirming with every bit of energy she could muster. Grabbing at lips, pushing her head into the throat to try and anchor herself, kicking her legs, writhing back and forth until she ached, and still she fought, because she had to escape this. And nothing happened. Rose licked her belly one last time and swallowed again, not even being subtle this time. She practically plunged her tongue between the human’s legs, filling her more than she’d ever been… or would be again. Ella gasped in a mixture of pain and overwhelming pleasure, heat sapping her strength even before she flushed. “Oh… god… no…”

Rose laughed again. She was an expert unlike any Ella had ever imagined, thrusting into her, stroking her, caressing her, coaxing forth a flood of honeyed juices… by human standards at least. The cow’s gullet rippled, claiming another six inches, and the hungry tongue became more frantic, driving Ella closer and closer to her personal peak. Her legs were stretched out in the air now, shaking with pent up energy

“One last chance, little human. Nothing left to lose now, not even dignity.” Rose’s voice broke suddenly, straight into her head. It was like a telephone call, almost. “You want this? You want my tongue? Tell me, you little slut. Tell me now or just churn.”

“No… no…” Ella slumped, gasping at the sweltering, steamy air. “Please…”

“Please what? Please fuck me before I add to you? Please make it feel good as I die? Say it, Ella. Say it out loud.”

Ella cringed. “I… I…”

The muscles clenched around her, readying for the plunge.

“I want it,” she sobbed, curling her toes. Shame or dignity, guilt or pride… Rose would take her no matter what. There was nothing more. There was nothing else. “I want it, okay? Fuck you, I… I want it… please, just… just stop taunting me!”

Rose stroked her deep inside, slurping coming from above Ella’s head. Then she dug her tongue deeper than Ella had imagined she could stretch, and swallowed her, all at once.

The human shook herself apart with her orgasm as the cow’s flesh spread over her legs and feet in one gorging motion. Ella cried out in misery and pleasure all in one, her eyes rolling up in her skull. “No… no…” ...yes.. Yes…

She felt her feet enter the gullet, utterly surrounded now, and it was so slick and sensual that the waves broke over her anew, sending her shuddering and writhing as her bulge travelled stickily down the cow’s thick throat. She’d make enough of a bulge for Rose to watch her squirming in enough detail, no doubt. A curvaceous, swelling distension, distorting the black patches as she slid, almost oozed past them. A final goodbye.

Slowly, the ecstasy faded, and Ella felt the emptiness of a libido completely and totally drained. Now there was just despair. She mumbled feeble pleas which the cow ignored, pushed deeper into the utter enfolding blackness of Rose’s girth. The stomach stretched around her, surprisingly small for a creature who considered an adult human a light snack. Then she remembered that cows had four stomachs, and Rose, purely by her own volition, had decided to give herself five. Ella shuddered again, squirming weakly to try and push back into the gullet. The muscles simply churned her questing hands straight back into the dribbling pool of fluids and acids. She whimpered, feeling the tingle. Rose’s belly squeezed her, adoringly, possessively.

“Arim?” she called, weakly. There was no response. He was far away, churning in his personal hell. Was it hotter there? It couldn’t be. Maybe the fluids he was slowly turning into were quicker, though. Maybe he’d at least end. And she’d just gurgle away and swing forever.

If she had last words, no-one would hear them.

*

The cow’s bellies took their time with this one. She would stop squirming mostly by the time the first had tenderised her enough, energy utterly drained by the wet massage and furnace heat. The second, though, would begin to churn her properly, and so she would begin to wriggle all over again. The third stepped it up - that was always the best one. Rose often stopped everything just to savour what happened in the third. By the fourth, there would be little life left in her. She’d maybe twitch, or whimper, or kick feebly, but that was all. She’d go still in the fourth, and as it passed to the fifth Rose would rub the faint bulge and feel how wonderfully soft it had become.

She smiled at the thought, stroking the firmer swell of her prey right now, licking her lips to claim every last ounce of taste. Nothing would escape. Arim would be lucky, really. He’d stain a wall somewhere, or dribble into the mass of the cow’s bathtub. He’d at least get out of his killer’s body. But Ella was being kept forever.

Rose stroked the patch of her stomach where she’d planned to place the human’s soul, imagining the tingling sensation of a bonded essence right beneath her hooves. She did this only to special, special favourites. Perhaps she should talk with some of them sometime. How long had poor lovely Marquis Elery been inside? Or the twins at that wonderful party on her first night in the mortal world? Oh, so many little things!

Her reverie was interrupted at last, by a gleaming purple trail which swept into the room out of thin air, joined in a moment by another one. Rose looked at them, still stroking the mass of her belly. Ella twitched, and she belched softly. “Well?”

The Sorceries dissipated, absorbed back into her reservoir of magic, and Rose shivered pleasantly as the knowledge they had gathered poured into her mind. She smelt the trace of the creature she had scented at the warehouse… the vulpine. And the other one, the amazing one, the one which still lingered on her tongue with every despite despite never having tasted it. The spirits she had created had tracked them across the country, past a billion other soul-scents of mortal civilisation, all the way to an estate deep, deep in the lonely countryside. Rose saw in her mind a modern, open-plan building. Guards. Armed. A trace of magical residue here and there.

Not a pushover then. She smiled, standing up and grinding Arim’s bulging form against her womb. Overall, her pit stop had taken less than an hour. She’d beat anyone else to the source with time to spare.

This time, there was no hesitancy. Rose licked her lips, her belly churning stronger now - at its current meal, and the promise of more - and stepped forwards into the world where more prey lay. Her stomach swayed. Still hungry. Always hungry.

[Avios]

Last time we saw the charming crime lord and volutuptuous hemaphroditic foxtaur Christine Vorascini, she had just eliminated (with extremely predatory prejudice) a small group of vigilantes trying to stop her from taking over their neighbourhood. Christine came away with a nicely swollen stomach, but also with a rather strange creature tucked away in her nethers: a human named Aurelia, who is clearly more than she seems. And what she seems to be is literally the most delicious, most perfect, most wonderful morsel Christine has ever met.

Such a meal needs to be enjoyed, savoured, used and abused in all the right ways. And if something gets in the way while you're trying to set up your romantic dinner? Why, you had best deal with it.

In true fictional fashion, my stories seem to keep getting longer and more complicated. Oh well. I enjoy writing them. Honestly, just going with the glorious gluttonous flow is fun by itself. Hopefully you enjoy reading them, whether the story parts, the gurgling pleasurable parts, or both. Stay delectable. < 3

Tags: Foxtaur H/M F/M cock vore anal vore unbirth unwilling fatal demon vulpine anthro furry soft vore swallowing digestion Multiple prey gluttony

Uninvited Guests

She had spoken to him at a Great Council, convened to discuss the latest war between Heaven and Hell and whether sides should be taken. As usual, nothing came of it. “Aurelia” was not a regular attendee of the Councils, and her presence raised a few eyebrows, many of them above sneering faces. But she had come not to speak her mind but to damn it. To know for certain.

She found him after the Council had ended. Today he had taken the form of a sinuous serpent armoured in jewels from all across the universes, and each one an unblinking eye.

“Can I speak to you? In… in private?”

He regarded her for a few moments before nodded, slithering away to a small antechamber. But before the doors had even closed, he spoke.

“I know what answer you seek from me.”

Aurelia had expected this. “I guess you would, wouldn’t you?” she mumbled, trying to repress millions of years of instinct at the snakes vast, glittering body. “So, do you know it?”

The serpent’s sighed, exposing a soft and fleshy maw. “Truth is neither good nor evil, little one. But you know, either answer would only bring you pain and misery.”

“So?” she shrugged with false bravery. “That’s all I exist for, isn’t it?”

Aurelia, the name she was going with right now, woke in anguish and dark-beyond-darkness. She was crushed, held between sweltering folds of flesh and submerged in a liquid thick and sticky and filling her very lungs. Even with the oxygenation in it, she was in a constant state of choking. The walls squeezed in on her, pulsing in time to a distant heartbeat, and her head was full of other people’s pain.

Harold. Gemma. Lily and Violet. Sadie. Edward. Weak, barely conscious, most of them less than sane. But all still alive. Oh Creator. All still alive as the monstrous body churned them just as it churned her, turning them slowly into more of itself.

Aurelia felt their terror and despair as deeply as her own, entwining in on itself until her pure little soul felt like it would shatter with it. Every time. Every time it was agony. But her soul never did shatter.

One by one, the lights blinked out, and the absence was even worse. She hung in the heat and boiling flesh, mourning them. Gone. Sacrificed to this… this mortal. No. This monster. Time passed, and finally a wet squelch brought her from her despair. All around, rippling and churning, the walls were adopting a new, more muscular rhythm. Pushing her, squeezing her soft, sensitive flesh. Outwards.

The darkness split ahead of her, and light poured onto her face as she slowly squeezed out. Aurelia gave a whimper at the brightness, clamping her eyes shut. The air was cold on her face, beneath the layers of sticky fluids. She felt the soft lips of her exit kissing every inch of her, a farewell tease. The liquids were dribbling down her body already, keeping her completely saturated.

She struggled weakly, and fell out in a tangled heap of slender soft limbs and matted red hair, landing on the ground with a painful thud. There was a quiet sigh of amusement and pleasure, in a voice she already knew.

Aurelia raised her head, blinking the spots and the thick fluids from her eyes, and met the gaze of the vast figure standing proud over her prostrate form. “Y… you.”

“Oh come on, adorato. It was my snatch you got stuffed up. Were you seriously expecting anyone else?”

Don Christine Vorascini smiled down at her, coiling her immense, fluffy tail around the nethers which until so recently had been holding Aurelia deep within their dripping confines. More than ten feet tall in total, with a normal fox’s upper body, curvaceous and stunningly beautiful, black hair falling in heavy ringlets down her back. But below the waist she had the lower body of a gigantic, powerful, plumply paunched quadrupedal vulpine. Taurism, an incredibly rare and very, very debilitating physical deformity… usually. Not this time. Christine looked like some malformed half-feral beast straight out of a story, ready to prey on a pure-hearted princess.

Aurelia tried to pull herself up to her knees. Once again, she had tried to be the brave and noble knight in the story, who defended the princess and slew the beast. Once again, she could not deny her true role. And no knight was coming for her. “You… y-you’re a monster.”

The elegant vulpine muzzle curled. “Cazzo. Something more original, please. I didn’t ask to be born like this, you know. Not that I’m complaining about it.” Christine swayed her heavy hindquarters, and Aurelia saw the way her stomach swung beneath her. The bulges weren’t moving much, and they were a lot more round and soft looking. Soft, liquid gurgles emanated from deep inside every now and then. “But I heard that a lot even before I started cramming people inside me. It’s just boring. And you’re not boring, you’re special. You’re so special.” Her eyes, deep deep blue and utterly without mercy, trapped Aurelia in their terrible focus. “Oh, my. You’re still covered, your scent isn’t even touching my nostrils, and I still burn with the desire to make you hurt. You’re going to have to tell me what the hell does that.”

“I’m… I’m not doing anything for you.” Aurelia felt sick.

“Because you still think you have any say in the rest of your gorgeous little life.” The great fox giggled, bending her forelegs to cup one elegant hand around the side of Aurelia’s face. Her palm was soft and warm. “Aurelia, you’re delicious, and my God I want to make you suffer, but I’m a patient “monster”. You’re going to give me everything I want before I kill you. And when I kill you, you’re going to give me even more than that, aren’t you? Such a good little pet.”

The little human, or not quite human, tried to pull herself away from the caress, her green eyes actually fluttering as she veered close to collapsing again from fear and exhaustion. “Nnn…” she whispered, shaking. “Nnn… no…”

“Better.” Christine quivered slightly, her eyes shining. “Ohh, I felt that. It’s not just physical pain, then? Frightening you, crushing your spirit, making you beg… that’s going to feed straight into my pleasure centres? Dannazione, this day just keeps getting more and more delightful.”

She straightened up again, towering over the cowering little morsel. “Mmm. Okay, I’ve got the entire night to us. I’ll just have to do a few things. Get rid of what’s left of your friends, for one. I want my guts empty and hungry for you. So, why don’t you go get cleaned up? Your flesh should be free of anything but its own delectable taste. In fact...” she smiled. “Penny, come and help her. Poor thing’s still a bit sapped from her stew inside my sex.”

Aurelia tensed, looking around at last. They were in a large, studio-style room built to cater to Christine’s considerable size. A bed which was more a mound of pillows and mattresses sat in one corner, and in the centre, just next to them, lay a desk festooned with almost a dozen computer screens. They looked to be displaying massive amount of information, constantly changing, most of it financial. Clothes and books lay scattered here and there. The decor was an odd mix of modern and antique. But no-one else. Who was Penny?

A door clicked open, and in walked another fox, this one mercifully not tauric and actually normal in height. She was naked, and possibly the most beautiful person Aurelia had ever seen. Only a few inches taller than herself at most, slim and perfectly hourglass in shape, with thick, soft brunette hair and a pair of huge round eyes the exact colour and texture of melting chocolate. The eyes did not even look at Aurelia, hunched and shivering, but locked straight on to Christine’s. “Yes?” she said, her voice soft and gentle, and barely more than a whisper.

The foxtaur nodded towards Aurelia. “Take her to the shower and help her get cleaned up, then help her put something on. Something fun, you know?”

Penny had to follow her gaze to even register Aurelia, and though she shouldn’t have seen her species ever before, she didn’t even look surprised. She nodded obediently, offering Aurelia a hand. Shakily, the human took it. She couldn’t remember when she had last felt so drained.

“Be nice to her, Aurelia,” Christine said softly, padding towards the computer screens and tutting to herself at something on them, scratching at her bloated, softened belly. “Or there aren’t actually words in any language for what I’ll do to you.”

Aurelia didn’t reply. She walked along next to the radiant vixen, stumbling a little as her muscles cramped up. That hadn’t been necessary, she thought, shaking with fear and despair. She wasn’t about to start hurting people just because her situation was hopeless.

Penny led her to a large tiled room, still silent and distant. Without speaking, she walked over to one end, twisting a silver knob. Instantly, a spray of steaming water poured from the ceiling, right next to a selection of extremely luxurious bath oils and soaps. The fox stood back, her job done. There was something very, very odd about her. Aurelia watched curiously as she stepped into the water and turned it down a notch. Though it was the perfect temperature, she had already felt enough heat to last an eternity.

As she rinsed her body, trailing fingers through her hair to get out all the thick inner fluids, a sudden wave of panic hit her in the belly, and she dropped to one knee under the water, giving a weak groan of fear. Oh Creator, she heard her soul saying. Please. No. No. This can’t be what I am. It was an old, old argument, and never got any success in the real world.

There was a hand on her shoulder, suddenly, and then it turned into an arm which curled around her back, embracing her. Trembling, Aurelia clutched at it, managing to stand up. She was crying, she realised, but only a little, and Penny was holding her, supporting her shaking limbs without a sound of complaint. The human-shaped creature clutched at her, sobbing into her shoulder. She barely noticed the water until she resurfaced from her despair, sniffing and wiping the water from her eyes.

“Fuck. I… I’m sorry. I got you wet as well.”

The vixen didn’t reply, but gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. Aurelia managed to stand again, shakily starting to lather her soft form. She looked at Penny again, and the gentle chocolate gaze looked back calmly. Aurelia swallowed, and spoke. “I… I don’t know if this place is bugged, or if she has other ways of listening in. So... you don’t have to say anything. But… Penny, I don’t know where she took you from, I don’t know what she’s done to you, but… I swear, I swear upon my immortal soul… I will help you. I’ll do anything I can to free you. Okay?”

Penny looked at her, the water running into her eyes and down her shapely breasts. She said nothing again, as Aurelia rinsed off the gorgeous-smelling foam and stepped out of the water, looking around for a towel.

And then she said, “Wow. You really are a selfless little thing, aren’t you? I suppose considering where I picked you up, it’s not so surprising, huh? Still… you’re not just delicious. You’re so... pure. Oh, you just get better and better, adorato.”

Her voice was soft and gentle, with a similar European tinge as Christine’s - Italian, Aurelia could tell. She stepped back, almost into the shower again, startled. “You - you’re with - you… what?”

Penny smirked, the first facial expression Aurelia had seen on her slender muzzle. “Not that I don’t appreciate how adorable you two are together, but darling… it’s already pretty clear to me that you’ve got some kind of empathy powers, haven’t you? So use them. Feel Penny. Tell me what you see in her..”

Aurelia stared at the tender face. But… it was a different voice, it was a different person! How could...

“Ch… Christine?”

“Shut the fuck up and look at her, adorato.”

She did. She didn’t even need to close her eyes. She just… felt.

Aurelia stared at the vixen, open mouthed. “Oh…” she said, softly, raising a hand to her mouth. “Oh my Creator.”

Penny returned to her calm neutrality, looking at her with a kind of timid politeness, and Aurelia felt tears coming again. “What did you do to her?” she said, hoarsely. “What did you do?”

Christine laughed with Penny’s mouth. “Not really just me. Both of us together. Even then… it took decades. But we did it for love. Oh, she’s perfect, isn’t she? So utterly perfect.”

Aurelia was no stranger to traumatised souls. A healthy mind glowed, together and clean and content in itself. A terrified, broken, helpless one was like a shattered pane of glass, sharp edges and crazed spirals twisting and biting into itself. But this… oh, Absent Creator. This was horrific.

The vixen’s soul was… hollow. There was no sign of trauma or suffering. There was no sign of anything. Penny was barely a person at all any more. Every part of her had been washed clean away, leaving only one thought, one desire, one belief.

Christine.

Her entire mind did not contain a shred of anything else. Aurelia was not in fact sure that the little fox understood that anyone else was a person. To Penny, there was nothing in life but Christine’s will. She was a… shell.

It was, in a horrific, horrible way, almost like romantic love. Penny lived for her owner. Nothing else mattered but giving the foxtaur everything. She was, Aurelia realised, genuinely the perfect person - according to Christine’s psychotic standards, that was.

She stared into the soft brown eyes, seeing for the first time the slight sheen of microcircuitry in the back of her pupils. That explained the iridescence. “You can see me through her eyes.”

Penny nodded, tapping her temple playfully. “Cameras in the retinas, and a two-way radio implanted deep into the skull. The tech’s a century ahead of here, from another world entirely. I had to give up half a country to get them done, but they’re exactly what we need. Unjammable, completely undetectable, and always online. She really is perfect, aren’t you, darling?”

The smirk flickered for a second, replaced with a smaller, gentler smile as Penny somehow understood the compliment. The happiness in her soul was as pure as a newborn’s. Aurelia felt sick.

“Why? Why… why would you do this?” She wrapped a soft, creamy towel around her body, shivering despite the warmth. “What possible reason could you have to… to destroy an innocent girl’s life like this? You… you’ve almost killed her, for the heavens’ sake. You’ve taken everything from her.”

“No, darling. She never had anything but me to begin with. I made sure of it. We began when we six years old,” Pennica started to walk towards her, her steps as sultry and enticing as a professional courtesan. “Penny was supposed to be a playmate for me, since my father didn’t want me to go outside or play with my siblings. She was the gardener’s daughter. And she was told to do whatever I said, because my father was the Don. It was the perfect opportunity. I was already starting to… work in the way I work. Think in the way I think.”

“A psychopath.”

“You know there are better words than that. I’m very capable of understanding emotions. I adore them. I am simply… a predator. A taker of what I desire. I make things mine. All things. And… well, I wanted to start properly. I wanted to make an entire person mine. So little Penny and I, together, we started to do that. It took a lot of effort. A fair few times she nearly didn’t survive. But you were worth all of it, darling.” Penny shivered contentedly, idly stroking the human’s dripping back - no doubt on Christine’s command. “So now… she’s mine, you see. She’s a useful way to interact with the world more quietly, because as you might imagine I’m quite a… distinctive person. Penny is gorgeous, but she’s at least a normal vulpine.” The fox trailed her arm around the human’s back. “She’s perfect for luring people right to me, or being a public face for negotiations, or just enjoying the world. And of course, she’s a dedicated servant. Utterly dedicated. Not a single thought which isn’t of me. You really are perfect, aren’t you, mio caro?”

“She… oh, no. Oh cosmos. S-she should have had a life of her own! How can you say she wanted this?”

“Because I did.” Penny shrugged. “Come back to me, you two. I want you to suffer right in front of me.”

The vixen blinked, returning to her tender state of absolute nothingness as Christine left her, and offered Aurelia her hand. Aurelia took it, her legs still cramping from the exhaustive heat of the foxtaur’s innards. She felt sick. They were just heading out of the door when the vixen straightened again.

“Sorry, darlings,” the Don said, gently, with Penny’s mouth. “Go and find something to wear, and don’t come until I call you. Something’s just come up which I need to deal with.”

*

Christine blinked once, turning off her own implanted connection with the little fox. The window of Penny’s vision in the corner of her eyes vanished. Then she said, “Sorry about that. Now, where were we?”

The three knives at her throat did not waver.

“She does not smell scared,” Evo said in Infernal to Imo and Ato, in their shared mind.

“She is a mortal,” Imo said back. “She is too stupid to know what we are. She thinks we’re just thieves or something.”

“Darlings, can we have a conversation?” Christine said, arching her chin carefully to avoid the blades. Her lower half shifted, feeling the weight of the three forms crouched atop it. “I know you’re not just thieves or something. You want to talk to me. More accurately, you want to threaten me. Which is… hmmm. Well. Let’s not talk about that right now. Just tell me, what are you here for?”

This time, all three of them spoke as one, in English. “Where is she?”

The fox sighed. “Should have guessed. Aurelia said someone was coming after her. Was it you she was talking about?”

“No,” said Ato. “That one failed. Pathetic half-breed. We, though, we will not fail. Now tell us.”

“Come on, can’t we go through some pleasantries first? You tracked her here, obviously. Don’t you know where she is?”

Evo noticed that she seemed to be the one asking questions. “We followed her soul-scent to this estate,” he said, “and to you. But this building is seeded with an aura of disruption and strangeness. It saps our strength, and blurs our scent.” He let his blade press against the fox’s throat. “Did you do it? Clever mortal, “Vorascini”. You stopped us from tracking her down ourselves. But you should have made it a hundred times more powerful if you wanted it to give you a chance against us.”

“It’s just Christine, adorato. And… honestly, I don’t know about this disruption. I haven’t managed to get this place warded against magical threats yet. That’s… interesting. But anyway, for heaven’s sake, you’re the ones in control here. That’s very clear. So would you mind taking your knives from my throat? I like to see people when I talk to them.”

“Should we?” said Ato. They looked at each other.

“What threat does she pose?” Evo sneered. “She carries no weapons. She is big but we are stronger than her, faster than her, and we outnumber her. We are Triscion, aren’t we?”

“Besides,” said Ato, “We want to watch her eyes when we start to tell her where she’s going.”

As one, they removed the knives, somersaulting elegantly off Christine’s back, and landed in a perfect triangle in front of her. The foxtaur sighed with relief, scratching at her throat. She still did not seem scared at all.

“Much better,” she said, pulling her thick hair back and stretching her spine. “Now, who do I have… the pleasure… of…”

She slowed down as she looked at them. Evo couldn’t help but smile. Of course: what mortal would not be speechless before them? Three black jackals, well more than six feet tall, strong, physically perfect, with eyes like orbs of gold. They wore small, simple loincloths, and above them belts hung with talismen and artefacts for use in the field. Their knives still glinted in their hands, blades which could cut through magic and flesh and steel with the same ease. A pair of dark, spiralling horns sprang from each of their foreheads. They were almost completely identical to each other, in body and in mind. They thought as one, fought as one. They were demon Triscion. They were the perfect operatives for this task.

Slowly, Christine gasped, putting a large, elegant hand to her mouth.

“Oh my god,” she said, almost a whisper. “Are you… are you triplets?”

Evo hadn’t expected that.

“I… no,” said Ato, sounding slightly unsure. “We are a Triscion. I am Ato. This is Imo. This is Evo. We are a single soul forged in the Birthing Furnaces, and made into three separate, linked minds. We were born together, we learned to kill together. And we will end you together.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the foxtaur waved a hand dismissively. “But that’s essentially the same thing, isn’t it? Isn’t it? You’re basically three identical siblings.”

Ato frowned. “To your mortal mind... we... could be,” he said, slowly. “Why?”

Imo gave them all a mental kick. “Quiet. You are not asking questions here, mortal bitch. Where is she? Where is the Lady?”

He stepped forward, threateningly, but Christine just held up a hand. She was giggling uncontrollably. Absently, Ato notified them telepathically to glance between her forelegs. “She’s more than just female, it seems. Didn’t know mortals had things like that.”

“She’s not an ordinary mortal,” Evo thought back, eyeing the heavy masculinity which swayed with every movement. “Her Majesty will be interested to meet this one. If she shuts up.” He broke off as the foxtaur stopped her laughter, holding up a hand for silence.

“Cazzo, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… just… god, triplets. This is becoming just one hell of a day.”

“Good choice of words,” Imo snarled. “Tell us. Or you start to hurt. Even with this warding, we are stronger and faster than you can ever dream, and we know exactly how to make you suffer. Don’t try to be clever, mortal bitch. Tell us now. Where is she?”

The foxtaur stopped laughing abruptly, almost freezing mid-chuckle. Her eyes glittered in the light from the bank of computer screens. “I’m so sorry. She’s gone to pick out a dress for the evening.”

Evo snorted. “You made her your guest, did you?”

“Oh, she is my guest. So are all of you. And I like being hospitable to all my guests. This estate did have a dozen guards on it, by the way. Did you kill them?” Christine sounded slightly disinterested at the last part, as if it were a mere formality for her. Ato waved a hand, smirking.

“Even with the magical sapping, we are nothing but shadows to your kind when we wish to be. There was no need.”

“So why reveal yourself to me? I know the place is big, but you wouldn’t have searched it for long to find her, surely.”

“Because you’re coming as well,” said Imo, craning his neck to look into the big creature’s eyes. They were quite an unusual shade of deep indigo-blue, Evo noticed, rather striking for a mortal. “The Queen wants you to know what happens when you try to take your prey from her.”

The foxtaur cocked her head, looking straight back at him without a blink of fear. “Ah, about time we got some details. Well then, who’s this Queen? And where are we off to?”

Evo felt a pang of unease, but he quelled it. They hadn’t been lying before - this mortal stood no chance against them. He could have lifted her entire body with one arm. He could kill her in the time it took her to draw a breath. And he wasn’t even alone. So why was she still smiling?

“We are servants to her Eternity Queen Melavascia Velvena,” Ato intoned proudly. “Third Demon Matriarch of Gluttony, Lady of the Maw, Guardian of the Hungering Palace and One of the Forty Nine Monarchs of Hell. Those are but a fraction of her titles, and her power.”

Even this did not seem to phase the foxtaur. Christine only gave a sigh of relief. “Finally. God, that took far too long to clarify. I’m losing my touch. So you’re demons, then? I just really want to be clear on that. Very clear. You are demons, not angels, not spirits or ghasts or anything else. Demons. Right?”

Evo smirked with a confidence which somehow, he didn’t seem to feel. Something was odd, very, very odd. “Yes, we are. But you can call us your personal nightmare.”

“I don’t have nightmares,” Christine said calmly. “Well then, I’ll take you to pick up Aurelia, or whatever her name is, and we’ll be on our way. Oh… can I just say one thing first?”

“Yes. Have your words now,” Imo purred. “Later you’ll be too busy screaming.”

“Sure, sure. Anyway.” Christine blew him a kiss. “Activate Protocol Epsilon Subclass Infernus Level Alpha Three.”

“Wh-” said Evo, and he felt a sharp pain in his back, and then his blood turned to water in his veins.

The three collapsed, scrabbling with weakening fingers at the sausage-sized darts in their necks. Evo caught a glimpse of the last traces of pure golden fluid in the vial, before it was forcibly pumped into his system. He felt Ato and Imo falling away from him, sapped and weakened a hundred, no, a thousand times over. It was all he could do to keep his lungs breathing in ragged gasps.

Christine lowered her hand, slowly. She blinked once. “Penny, you okay? Good. Good. I’ll call when I want you back. She’d better look amazing.” Another blink, and she began to stalk towards them.

“I know you don’t have a very high appreciation of mortals’ intelligence, darlings, but really. How fucking stupid do you think I am? Aurelia was expecting someone to come after her. Do you think I was that ravenous to kill her that I didn’t listen? When you turned up here I was activating the security protocols all over the house.” She nodded at something he could not see, and as Evo turned, whimpering for breath, he saw a glinting length of metal hanging in the shadows.

“Auto-targeting sentry. Keyed to my voice. It’s equipped with tranquiliser darts, shock bullets, magic nullifiers, EMP pulse munitions, and probably half a dozen others which I don’t remember. Oh,” she grinned. “And also darts filled to bursting with triple distilled, 100% pure angelic ichor.”

Imo hissed at her, a blind, feral noise, and tried to stab her with his blade. The foxtaur kicked his hand away before the edge could touch her fur, and then, for good measure, placed her paw on his wrist and pushed down. The demon’s hiss turned into a wail of pain, pain which Imo and Evo felt as well.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got demon blood in there as well for when the angels come for me,” the beast continued. “You two have been fighting so long that you’ve become magical negatives of each other, as I understand it. Any physical contact at all burns your essence up. So the purest, strongest essence of an angel, shot straight into your bloodstream…” she crouched down by Imo, stroking his head. “Well, look at you. Weak as puppies. Cute little jackal puppies. And triplet puppies, as well…”

“You… you will burn for this today!” Ato hissed. “You think you can lay a finger on us and not pay a price?”

The foxtaur cocked her head a moment. Then she shrugged. “I pay my debts. And you three are so lovely you’ll be worth all of them. What you should be asking, adorato, is… what price are you going to pay for trying to take what is mine? Don’t worry, I’ve already decided. I told you before… this is turning into one hell of a day.”

She sat down, amongst them, teasing Imo with the great fluffy mass of her tail. “Triplets. Oh my.” Christine giggled, like a child on Christmas morning. “Triplets. Twice I’ve managed to take a pair of twins. But they’re difficult to sort - making two people vanish simultaneously is a bit too noticeable - and besides, in the end they’re really just two different, similar looking people. It’s not as special. But these… oh, my. I’ve wanted something like you for more than a decade. You’re one of my most wanted fantasies. Sorry if it’s a bit embarrassing, but… it’s true. Only things above you are devouring an actual deity - unlikely - and consuming a parallel version of myself. Also unlikely.” Evo hissed, and she chuckled. “Let me guess. I’m a psychopath? Heard it before, darling. Entities like you are too gorgeous to resist, and too hard to catch, for me to resist an opportunity like this any day. Three of you? No chance. No chance at all.”

She knelt down, quadruped half crouching like a predator ready to spring, and plucked their belts and loincloths off one by one. Ato tried to fight back, and got a playful slap which made all three of their heads ring. Evo wondered blithely if this was what most mortals felt like when confronted with them.This weak, this overwhelmed, this… insignificant.

The foxtaur chuckled, barely giving the talismen and artefacts hung from the belts more than a glance. “I’m sure those are very, very valuable items, but right now I’m interested in you yourself.”

Imo had managed to wriggle onto his elbows, panting with the effort. “So what you gonna do? Rape us? Torture us? You think we’re afraid of anything you do?”

The foxtaur shrugged. “It’s up to you. In the end, all that matters to my me is that you squirm. A lot. And you just volunteered to go first, hun. Shall we see how scared you become?” She picked him up, ignoring his weakened struggles, and rolled sinuously onto her back, spine straightening on the right angle between quadruped and biped half. Ato was on her right side, Evo on her left, and Imo held helpless above her. Even down here she was massive. Her upper half would have outmatched them for height if she’d had normal legs, but with the gigantic fox body below, brawny and powerful with a noticeable level of softness, turning the taut skin of her belly into a gentle curve, along with that heavy, slowly swelling sheath and oversized balls... she was a titan amongst them. And now that Evo no longer had the strength of a high-class demon, he realised that he found that very intimidating indeed.

“Enjoy the trip, darling,” the monster crooned. “And say goodbye to your friends.” She leaned forwards, displaying an impressive amount of flexibility, and passed Imo down to the grip of her forepaws. He tried to spit in her face, but Christine countered by kissing him on the lips, closing her eyes with greedy pleasure. Then Imo was held by her heavy forelegs, which passed him back over that belly, over that shifting malehood, and in between the great thighs of the beast. And then it unceremoniously pushed him into whatever lay behind, hard. The jackal yowled, squirming against the sudden contact, and then he froze. “What in the name of-”

Christine laughed, half out of amusement, half out of lustful pleasure. “Unngh… you don’t know what it is I do? Next time do your research, darlings. Not that you’ll have a next time.” She straightened her body, cracked her neck, and rippled. It was like a full-body spasm, running from the rear which Imo was pressed under all the way up her long, powerful form. And, as it turned out, being slurped into.

Evo quivered, able to feel the sensations of his brothers through their link. So it was that as Imo gasped again, staring down at his paws and calves, Evo could feel the heat and see with his eyes. They hadn’t simply been pushed into the foxtaur’s plump, dripping lips, as he had guessed was her game, using them to pleasure herself. They had been sucked in, and a few inches higher than her sex. Before his very eyes, the hefty rear flesh rippled and gurgled, the plush ring of the fox’s rear squelching up another three or four inches of his own body. What kind of muscular control was needed for this?

As he braced his hands against the thick, padded vulpine thighs and tried to pull up, it turned out that the answer was “very, very strong muscular control”. The flesh gulping at his knees was slick and soft as silk, but it didn’t budge an inch. If he was at his usual strength he could have pulled out, but in this state Imo, and through him Evo and Ato, could only watch as the hungry orifice squelched around him like a toothless maw, and pulled him further inside. He was helpless. He was prey.

The bestial mortal shuddered, hands moving down to fondle her pendulous breasts. “Ohhhh, darling…. I hope it wears off just a little. So you can squirm properly.” Her tail wrapped itself around Imo’s chest, huge and fluffy and tickling him. The jackal snarled, trying to claw at it, but he was still too weak. Christine only shivered, electrified by the sensations. “Mmm. That’s good too.” She linked an arm around each of the other two demons, pulling them close to her, ignoring their feeble snarls. “And we get to watch, too! Front seat views. I’m curious, Ato, Evo. Will you miss him? Do your kind feel things like loss?” A hindpaw patted the squirming Imo, pressing him a few inches deeper into the foxtaur’s gluttonous rear. Now his thighs were being claimed. “I know he feels fear.”

Ato only snarled, but it was a frightened one. “This cannot happen!” he bellowed telepathically, kicking uselessly at the mortal’s powerful flanks. “Imo, fight her, for the Damned One’s sake! She… she can’t do this to us! We cannot… we can’t… end...”

“Shut up,” said Evo, numbly. “The angel blood won’t wear off for days. We can’t purge ourselves of that disruptive essence. You know that.”

A vulpine paw stroked his cheek. “Wow, strong, silent types, huh? They’re nice, but I like it when you beg. Tell me, will you miss him?”

“We won’t beg for you. We’ll give you nothing,” Ato hissed, struggling against her. The foxtaur simply used his motion to push herself into another greedy swallow, burying Imo up to his hips. His toned rear was barely an obstacle to the gulping puckered ring, which crested around it with a soft, extended slurp. The jackal whined, leaning down again to push against the vulpine’s thighs with all his strength. Nothing. Christine’s amply-sized balls brushed against him, twitching eagerly at the sensations.

“No, Ato. Who are you lying to? You’ll give me… everything.” Christine dragged him onto her chest, ignoring his angry squirming, and kissed him hard, hungrily, passionately. Her tongue lashed into his protesting mouth, one hand forcing his jaw open with a finger so that he couldn’t bite down on her. “Now. Tell me. Will you miss him?”

“Give her nothing…” Imo moaned, groaning as his straining, weakened muscles failed to do so much as slow the next swallow. Now his own belly was lost within the greedy gut, a faint bulge forming beneath the foxtaur’s swelling sheath and layers of pudgily digested previous occupants. “Oh… Damned One… the heat of it...”

“How can you fear heat?!” Evo cried silently, looking into his brother’s eyes so he didn’t have to watch as Christine forcefully made out with his other sibling-scion. “You’re a demon, for the Damned One’s sake!”

“I… I know…” Imo shook, half with exhaustion from his straining squirms, half from terror. “It doesn’t hurt, it’s just… so tight. So consuming. The heat of hell does not claim you like this. Help me, Evo, please, help me!”

“I swear, this will not be our en-” Evo was cut off as Christine’s rear squeezed, even more firmly, and Imo’s chest vanished suddenly. The demon’s paws touched no bottom, just a slowly curving tunnel of soft, silky-sticky flesh, as wet and hot as the kiss of a succubus. He pressed feebly at the soft flesh slowly nibbling its way up his armpits towards his shoulders, trying to see his brothers again. Evo could feel it. He was frightened.

“Don’t take me,” he whimpered, closing his eyes at the humiliating weakness of it. “Please. Don’t take me. Don’t let her. Please.”

Christine broke off her kiss with Ato, letting the jackal collapse, gasping and whimpering with her saliva dripping from his mouth. She squeezed him for a moment, letting him choke and whimper. Her tail only pressed more firmly at him, caressing and shoving him tenderly into her gulping rear. “Oh, aren’t you a good little thing? Anything to say to your brother, Evo, Ato? I’m afraid that as much as I’d love to keep you together… I dealt with the remains of Aurelia’s friends before you “came for me”, so I’m empty now. And my belly is waiting for one special person to return. So you three are each getting a digestive doom to yourself. Don’t worry, Imo.” She blew him a kiss. “I’ll keep you company inside my churning bowels. Anything to say, then? My guts ache for you..”

“Imo…” Evo croaked, shaking against the foxtaur’s possessive grip. He barely realized he was speaking out loud. “Imo… we won’t… we won’t let her…”

“Yes you will. Goodbye, sweet thing. Wriggle for me.” And with a near-silent sound which could only be described as quelp, the thick ring of flesh squeezed its way over Imo’s wide eyes and head. For a moment, his muzzle gasped and gulped frantically at the outside air, and then the great vulpine body rippled and it was drawn in as well. Imo’s arms grasped weakly at the fur of Christine’s inner thighs, slowly vanishing as well. Before their very eyes, one of the three of them was gone. Just a weak bulging mass in the fox’s heavy plump body. Her sheath rippled, starting to slowly grow, pink flesh slurping its way free as it swelled with the predatory joy. The only sound for a moment were the slurps of the foxtaur’s stiffening, emerging cock and the distant gurgles and faint wails of their poor lost brethren. Ato gave a little groan of disbelief, and Evo tried to reach out to the bulge. “I’m… sorry…” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, you’re just precious.” Christine hugged him gently, licking at his horns. “Hush. Cry if you want, that turns me on like demenziale. What happened to the bravado, huh? The stony-faced boldness? I thought you’d be a little dull, really. Professional soldiers often are. They’re too used to being terrified. But this… mm, this is delicious.”

“You… you underhanded sneak…” Ato hissed. “You are lower than the scum of Hell’s underbelly. Too cowardly to face us… too weak to fight without tricking us…”

“Or just too fond of making you weak, easy prey.” Christine patted his chest. “Why would I want a fight when I can have a buffet? Why would I want to be fair when I can just be gluttonous?”

“You will suffer this. Her Majesty will make you beg for dea-”

“Stop. Talking. About. Other. People.” Christine purred, her voice suddenly with an edge of steel to it. “No-one else matters. Just you two. And me. Squirm. Beg. Rage. I don’t care, just remind me with every second of your demise that you’re mine. The more you arouse me, frankly, the quicker and kinder digestion will be for you. Now, I’m starving for you. Goodbye, darlings.”

She kissed them both, tongue squeezing between Evo’s lips for rather longer than his brother’s - perhaps to make up for having kissed Ato before. “Imo’s squirming like twelve kinds of hell in there, pun intended. Reckon you can outdo him?”

“GO AND FUCK YOURSELF!”

“Good start, adorato. Goodbye.”

The foxtaur rolled over, depositing both of them on the ground, and stood up. Now the bulge Imo made in her was horribly clear, a fat, sagging bloated shape already deep into her underbelly. As Evo stared, it twitched and rippled. He couldn’t tell if it was his brother’s frantic squirming or the churning of the inner intestines.

“SO tight…” Imo broke into their channel, his voice hysterical, barely aware of who he was talking to. His body was contorted to fit to the endless tunnels of his prison, heat and wet flesh smothering him, the air heavy and humid and barely breathable. “Let me… don’t… brothers… where are you…”

“We’re here,” Evo whispered. “You’re not alone, we promise.”

“Don’t worry about them, Imo,” Christine chuckled, and Evo realised that Imo had said the words out loud, deep in the suffocating darkness, and the fox had somehow heard him. “You’ll stay linked. I don’t want to take away your telepathy. You can share your slow digestion with each other every step of the way.”

Even Imo’s bulge seemed to grow still. Ato gaped at her, managing to shakily rise to one knee. “How… h-how did you know?”

“Don’t flatter me, little demon puppies. It’s not too hard a feat. I was only watching you so closely because I wanted to see every tremble. But when you look at each other, you make tiny movements in your throat. You’re speaking, silently, but you’re speaking. Very clever. I don’t mind. I want you to feel this together.” She rubbed a paw against her sheath, sighing with pleasure as the obscenely thick, well-sized pillar of flesh continued oozing out of it. “So, who’s next?”

There was a moment of stony silence. Evo’s breaths spasmed in what he thought might be sobs. Imo churned and whimpered, flooding them with echoes of his hot, heavy hell. Ato glared hatefully at the foxtaur, who shrugged. “I will literally flip a fucking coin to see how you die, adorato. It’s up to you. You’re mine. So, choose or I do.”

“Wait!” Evo whimpered. He could still feel the unbearable oppressive heat of his brother’s churning prison, and he channeled the fear into his words.“I… I will, okay?”

“What are you doing, Evo!” Ato screamed at him. “Stop playing her games!”

“I couldn’t save Imo,” he whispered. “I want to at least save you… We are one soul. We can’t just fall apart like this.”

“You stupid, weak-minded, sentimental-”

“No, it’s fair,” Christine said, watching them from up high. “Don’t be too angry, Ato. You three really are a strongly bonded group, aren’t you? I’m sure Hell tries to crush the selflessness out of you, but when it’s someone you care about so much, when it’s one of you, little Triscion… oh, you’re delightful. Well done, Evo.”

She crouched down, stroking his face tenderly, and kissed him on the forehead, and then her other hand grabbed Ato, not Evo, by the scruff of his neck and slammed him down between her forelegs. The weakened demon barely managed to rise to brush against the heavy swell of her stomach before Christine rolled her hips forward firmly, and he slammed muzzle-first into the pulsing pillar of her malehood. He sank in to the ears.

Ato squealed, the sound coming out rather muffled, and tried to push the hungry shaft away, hands which Evo had seen tear dragons in half reduced to pattering weakly at the soft underside of the foxtaur’s belly. Christine hissed softly, flexing her spine a little as the shaft rippled and gulped - there was no other word for it - the jackal five inches into her gluttonous member.

Evo gasped, trying to reach his brother, clawing his way up from the floor, trying to focus his magic enough to summon a weapon. Nothing worked. His powers dissipated like a handful of snow, and his lunge forwards was countered by a large forepaw, slammed firmly into his bare chest. Christine held him down for a moment, squeezing the breath from his lungs, while she thrust herself around the demon stuffing her cock. The bulging mass swelled hungrily with him, another swallow somehow stretching around his shoulders. A heavy dribble of sticky, unknowable fluids oozed around his body. Every squirm and terrified writhe was simply absorbed by the throbbing flesh.

“You bitch!” he screamed instead, kicking and punching meaninglessly at her paw. “I… I was offering me, you mortal scum!”

“Ohhh… hmm, that one’s actually new. Well done, Evo.” Christine looked down at him from high above, idly teasing and groping her pendulous breasts again. “And I know you were. What I was asking, Immortal morsel, was… which one of you is weak enough to be fun while the other squirms their way inside? And you proved it was you, Evo.” She thrust again, hard and hungry, lifting Ato off the ground as his belly slowly, slurpingly vanished into her distended, throbbing cock. It wasn’t so unusual a sight in itself for a soldier in service to a royal demon, especially one such as Queen Melavascia, but… how could a mortal possibly make their body do this? How could a mortal outwit them? How could this… this maniac turn them from elite soldiers into nothing but her own pleasure toys?

He snarled as the monstrous fox picked him up, holding him against the soft weight of her breasts, ignoring his furious resistance. “It’s a pity he’s so weak. I erred on the side of overdose with the darts. Better to have you too helpless than too powerful. Still… just his heartbeat is enough for me. Every twitch, every hair, every millimetre of him, stretching me, filling me, satisfying me… oh, little demons, you have a new mistress now. And you’re serving her more deeply than you can ever imagine.”

“D-Damned One consume you…” Evo mumbled shakily. “You… you won’t get tears from me. I won’t give you anything, mortal bitch…” He could still feel what Ato felt, the heat, the pulsing flesh, the swallowing mass. Ato’s head was breaking out into a small chamber, hot and tight and full of liquids. Between those legs, Evo knew, Christine’s heavy balls were slowly filling out, stretching around their new, helpless inhabitant.

“Deal,” the foxtaur purred. “We’ve talked about this. I’ll just make you give it all. Oh, he’s a frenzied squirmer, isn’t he? God, that feels good…” She panted, animalistically, slowly rolling her hips forward again and again in time with the slurping gulps of her shaft. Through Ato, he could feel the hot flesh - so swollen with blood that it was even tighter and more intensely squeezing than where Imo was buried in her bowels - squelching hungrily around his hips. The widening of his toned rear as it disappeared, tail flicking and legs kicking uselessly, was evidently just more stimulation to Christine. “It’s already half full, Ato. A sweet little polecat called Gemma, she was. You’re bigger, but I gotta say… she squirmed more as she dissolved. You’ll have to step it up, huh, adorato?”

Evo kicked at her, uselessly. “Shut up. SHUT UP!”

“No.” Christine licked her lips, still holding him with the utmost tenderness. “Just… no. Without the talking, without the connection, it’s barely even pleasurable. I want you to know me as I know you. Still, Evo… nnngf, your brother’s tail is so ticklish… still, Evo, if you really want to escape my voice… I have a place for you.” She kissed him again. “I mean, I’ll still want to talk to you. But you can at least do more with that tongue than swear at me.”

He was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, still not even able to stand, so heavy was the angel-ichor in his blood. Evo groaned, panting for breath, and tried to raise his head to give the mortal bitch a defiant stare. His head lolled, making him stare instead at her towering, bloated lower half, belly plump and swinging with the ample bulge of one brother, heavy balls swelling with another, Ato’s ankles still twitching uselessly. The mental channel filled with their anguish. Imo was crammed deep, whispering prayers to the Damned One. Ato was so full of terror and rage that he didn’t have words for it, slathered in the lake of creamy fluids he was being slowly squeezed out into. The only part of his struggle to escape Christine was the slight jiggling of her testicles and twitching paws. The foxtaur sighed, still idly humping the hanging swell of Imo’s body with her pulsing erection. “Just a second. Goodbye, Ato. I won’t forget you, don’t worry. I never do.”

“Wait,” Evo whispered. “Please, don’-”

A wet, marshy squelch, a heavy ripple, and Ato was simply gone. It was no less horrifying than the first time. There was just a bulge, the lips of the engorged cock stretching around where paws had been before, leaving a few glistening bubbles of orgasmic fluids dribbling from the tip. Christine shuddered fitfully, gasping with the effort. “Steady, steady, get in there… unnngf… okay… okay. Cazzo. It’s too easy sometimes to climax you straight back out... before I’ve even started to churn you up. I edged for a while there with Ato. He’s a delight, isn’t he?”

Evo said nothing. The vulpine giggled, stepping over him so that he was forced almost nose-to-nose with her massive shaft. The air filled with the sticky scent of her arousal. “Ah, finally giving up, are we? Don’t worry. You’ll perk up again once you see what I have planned.”

“F-fuck you.”

“Well done, little demon. That’s right.” The shaft dribbled a squirt of gooey liquid over him as it swung overhead, a few steps carrying Christine over until he was under her bloated balls instead. Ato was in there, slowly starting to soften and melt. Evo could feel the churning liquids tingling on his flesh. “Ato, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Ato managed to convey a sense of wild emotion, but little more. Evo ended up behind the gurgling sac, with the plump weight of the foxtaur’s haunches just above him. There was the puckered, fleshy ring which had swallowed Imo alive, perhaps a little more plush than before, but not showing a sign of the life it had slurped up. There, almost in his face, was the hanging bulge of Ato, showing far too much of the life squirming away inside it. And in between…

He gave a small, very dog-like whine. Christine laughed softly, and the movement made the thick mound of her sex ripple slightly. “Oh, you’ve guessed? Like I said… my belly’s staying empty for darling Aurelia. So I have to improvise with you three. Any last words while you’re still able to breath outside air?”

Evo tried to scrabble backwards, away from her, his weakened body still heavy and dull. Christine simply took a step backwards. “I’ll give you ten seconds. Nine.”


He kept scrambling. The foxtaur kept up.

“Eight.”

Evo tried to roll away, grunting with the effort, and a heavy hindpaw knocked him back into place.

“Seven. Six Come on, hun. Nothing?”

“Voraska ankesselvi na! - the Damned One take your entrails!”

“Five. Adorato, my entrails are too bloated full of your brothers - three - to be taken.”

“D-don’t do this, please, don’t do this-”

“Two. Goodbye, adorato. Wriggle for me. One.”

“No-no, f-fuck you, fuck you fuck y-”

Christine sat down. If she said anything, Evo only heard the squelch. Soft, heavy haunches rippled around his pinned arms, and his head, shoulders and chest all in one were swallowed into her nether lips. He screamed, and they only squeezed and slurped him further in.

Now he understood what Imo had meant about the heat. It was sweltering, the walls of Christine’s hungry womb probably close to steaming with her dripping desire. But Imo was a demon, born in a forge. The heat did not harm him. And yet it smothered him. The warm walls clenched claustrophobically around every slightest part of him, not even allowing him space to open his eyes, so that he clenched them shut against the sudden greedy darkness. The gooey flesh pulled and squelched around him, a living thing all on its own, slurping up his belly, his navel, his waist. He was reduced to panting, squeezed so tightly by the clenching contractions that he was barely sure where he ended and the foxtaur began.

“Voraska callexi dascrien na ossiela!” he swore, writhing against her squeezing, gluttonous flesh, feet too pinned by her belly and swollen sac to kick. Roughly translatable as The Damned One will make you new with suffering! If Christine understood Infernal, the language of demons, she ignored him, simply groaning with joy at every writhing squelch and every contraction. Her sex slurped him in with regular gulps, muzzle squeezing through the endless walls. As the foxtaur ground her rear into the ground to cram Evo in tighter, engulfed now up to his hips, the stretching drove her wild, crying her ecstasy just like he cursed her, in her own native Italian tongue. Her voice vibrated oddly through Evo’s tight, confining prison, coming out deeper and more powerful, as intimate as if she was speaking next to his ear.

“Mio Dio! Così buono, così... nnggf… buono! Sei mio, piccole troie, sei mio…”

He cursed her a hundred times over, tried to summon his magic to make the hatred real, tried to overcome the heaviness of his tainted blood in his veins in order to squirm properly, and her sex overwhelmed it all with simply flexing squeezes. Nothing he did helped. Christine stood up, carefully, clenching even more firmly to ensure that not a single inch escaped her. The motion made her inner walls squeeze and ripple in a whole new, way, squelching over Evo’s body. His rear, lean and smoothly toned, was gulped up without even the slightest difficulty, his legs sank in with even less. His short tail flickered and tickled the foxtaur’s swollen lips - deliciously, judging from her moans of ecstatic joy - and then it, too was gone.

Evo screamed a smothered, bubbling scream, writhing with all his might, punching, kicking, jerking fitfully against the heavy mass of flesh holding him tight. He got a mouthful of sweet, thick feminine juices for his trouble, and another lewd groan of delight. Now his knees were being nibbled on. The demon roared an infernal curse, bucking against her, forgetting his exhausted state in his desperate desire to retain contact with the outside world. “NO! NO! NO!” The howls began to come in time with his squirming, in time with the gulps. And still nothing happened. His body simply disappeared, inch by inch. Calves… ankles… paws. Toes. All that was left.

Christine gave a warned clench, and the sudden realisation was enough to make Evo freeze mid-writhe. The foxtaur’s womb squeezed around him, already running thick with the juices which would melt him down into more of them. His toes flexed weakly, pulling at the outside world, feeling how cold the air was in comparison to the sweltering confines of the fox’s womb.

“Oh, Evo... You look delicious on me, darling. Your form has merged with your brother’s so well. In fact, I’ll give you a second chance for last words. Any?”

Evo didn’t dare move lest he fall in. He hung, feeling the hungry nethers slurp and swallow over him. “Please,” he whispered, desperately, giving up his immortal pride for the sake of a sliver of hope. “Please, we - we can serve you! We’re the elite! We can be your personal army, for the Damned One’s sake! Just - don’t - please!”

“You know, if you’d led with that, it might have been considered. And then ignored. I’m not a rational creature, adorato. I want, first and foremost, to eat people. It’s literally all I desire in life. And everything else is just fun to be had while I digest you. So you were mine the second you put those little knives to my throat. So no, Evo. Nice try. Now… squirm.”

She gulped, not hard, almost gently, her flesh rippling and slurping over Evo in the faintest and tenderest of motions. But it was enough. With a wet squelching slurp, the jackal’s toes were devoured by her sex, the lips sealing again into a plump, soaked mound of flesh And that, too, was enough. Christine climaxed.

Evo nearly passed out from the sheer onslaught of clenching flesh. The foxtaur howled with ecstasy, shaking her hips in massive, grinding humps, splurting out the remains of whoever had been in there before him in wet, hosing jets of gooey inner fluid. Evo felt the pull of her pushing out gallon after gallon of inner fluid, but it was never enough to let him free. He was just slurped deeper and deeper into tighter, more unbearable, more smothering heat, slathered and drenched, utterly doomed.

It was a few moments before the foxtaur relaxed, spent for the moment, the floor and wall splattered with the fruits of her lust. Now there was just Evo inside, slowly turning into the next batch. The demon, mastered. He heard her speaking again, from far away.

“Yes, you can come back now, Penny. I hope Aurelia looks as good as she should. Take your time.”

Evo felt a hand stroking his bulge, and tried to kick against it, but he was too weakened to do more than squirm. He could barely tell where his own flesh ended, and Christine’s juices and clenching walls began.

“The distinction won’t matter for long.” Ato thought bitterly to him. “Damned One, you idiot… couldn’t you at least escape her for five minutes?”

“I tried,” Evo whimpered, out loud. “I fought…”

There was a rumbling vibration as Christine moaned, the obscene pleasure in her voice carrying even through layer after layer of flesh and fat. Imo whimpered from somewhere far away in the morass of her gurgling guts. “This can’t be our end…”

“Imo, we’re here,” Evo whispered desperately. “We’re here. I promise.” And Christine’s voice carried to him as the walls began to churn and massage in earnest, and he began to soften into her own pleasure fluids.

“Yes, you’re there.” she purred, voice rumbling from the distortion of her own multi-tonne form. “Forever now. Suffer together, little demons. Mine. All mine.”

And they did. And they were. They were.

*

Christine closed her eyes, steadying her breathing, standing with legs splayed, ignoring for the moment the splattered puddle of what had once been another victim. She didn’t think about it. She cared about these victims.

She felt her body, examining every ounce of weight in her guts, her womb, her balls. Every life. Everything the three demons gave her, she savoured like the most orgasmically precious of gifts.

She sat down, moaning at even the slightest motion of her prey as they squirmed and settled in the new spaces. Her belly was distended hugely, hanging over three feet lower with the sheer mass of two morsels in different organs. And her balls almost dragged on the ground, less two orbs of flesh than a bloated, sac-like mass. Full of digestion demon.

Christine had eaten a couple of Immortals, but they were rare indeed, and usually too dangerous. Snacks like this were to be savoured. She stroked the bulge slowly, shuddering as Evo started to writhe all over again.

They were special. Everyone was special, of course, but god… demons. Triplets. And thieves. What more could she possibly ask for? What could be better than this pleasure, this godlike gluttony?

The door clicked open behind Christine, and she looked up drowsily to see Penny entering, almost glowing with contentment as she saw the centre of her universe again. And, arm in arm with her, was a vision in white, an angelic creature with pale bare skin and scarlet hair, clad in a simple, virginally pure dress the colour of freshly fallen snow. Aurelia.

“Oh, adorato,” Christine said softly. “Un angelo in bianco! You look… oh, you look ravishing.”

The human caught sight of her newly swollen underbelly, green eyes widening with the most beautiful horror. Christine smiled, and met her gaze.

“Come here. You’re just in time for dessert.”

[Avios]

We interrupt your usually scheduled programming of delicious gluttonous murder to bring you... pretty much more of the same thing. But for the purposes of what I have going for Christine, this story takes place before the infiltration of the warehouse (here - http://aryion.com/g4/view/313857) and so doesn't advance the story.

What it does do is take a closer look at the tragic, adorable, beautiful little fox Pennicia Amorato, or Penny. I know mind-control and hypnosis is pretty common in vore, but with Penny I wanted to try and depict a more psychologically realistic idea of it. I'm not sure if it's worked well, but I do like writing her. So it's worked well enough for me.

This is a shortish story composed of two parts, the second of which was written a while ago and the first more recently. Thanks to Kaoru, for inspiring me to do the first part and thus bring the story full circle. Actually, circles aren't the only thing which is going to be full tonight, Adorato...

Although the story starts with underage characters, there is nothing sexual or vorish in the first section, so please, don't be dissuaded by the idea of that. I don't swing that way. Or if you want, just skim along to the later section. But you'll miss out on the creepy adorableness...

Tags: Foxtaur H/M F/M oral vore unwilling fatal vulpine anthro furry soft vore swallowing digestion hypnosis mind control fox mouse

The Unmaking of Pennicia
By the Court of Predators

The Don’s daughter had a cut on her forehead again, a large plaster covering it. One of the children was a good shot, obviously.

Pennicia Amorato, aged seven and three quarters, looked at her through the door while she waited for Julio to let her in. It had been a week since they’d last seen each other, because that evening Christine Vorascini had snuck out again, and stopping her from seeing Penny was the about the best form of punishment the Don had managed to find for her so far.

It still didn’t work. Penny hadn’t been at all surprised when she’d heard that Christine had been found in the fields near the village, at almost two hours past her bedtime. This was mostly because Christine had told her she was going to do it.

Christine was sat in bed, reading, her upper half wearing a T-shirt with a crown on it, her lower body swathed in blankets, her small, deep blue eyes fixed on the page with their usual fierce intensity. A plate sat untouched on her bedside table. Beneath the blankets, Penny knew, much of her was wrapped in bandages - another of the many, many reasons why she should not be going out at all. It was her third operation this year, and her fifteenth overall. Julio had told Penny that the doctors were hopeful, though. They thought the skeletal restructuring was almost complete, and would stand up to the changes of the young vixen’s growing body. She just had to keep doing her physical conditioning, eat healthily, and maybe, just maybe, not try to sneak out of the Don’s estate to get in fights with the village children.

Julio told her these things, Christine said, because he recognised that she listened to Penny more than anyone else. He hoped Penny would convince her, where even her father had failed, to behave.

He didn’t understand them at all, Penny thought to herself, as the tall, young-faced ferret unlocked the door. It wasn’t that Christine listened to Penny. It was that Penny listened to Christine.

The door clicked upon, and the young fox looked up, her eyes fixing instantly on Penny’s own chocolate brown orbs. She gave a small, subtle intake of breath, as did the other fox.

It was like iced lemonade on a really, really, really hot day. It was like stepping outside after an especially boring sermon in the church. It was like… coming home.

Penny stepped forwards without thinking, almost leaping onto the bed in her eagerness, and the other fox was there for her. She didn’t so much fall into Christine’s arms as melt into her embrace, slumping against the warm soft fur, wrapping her arms around the other child as her own small torso was itself enclosed. Julio snorted, watching them with a mixture of amusement and fascination. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, huh?” he said, in Italian. “How about you stay in here this time, Miss Vorascini, and then you can go back to seeing your little friend every day of the week. That’s all. Just do what the doctors want you to do.”

Christine squeezed Penny a little more before she spoke. “The doctors are wrong, Julio. I’m healed all over. I can stand just fine. And I can run faster than you now, I bet.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The ferret unlocked the door again. “Not me you should be trying to convince, Miss Vorascini. Try talking to Doctor Yiang or someone. Hell, try talking to your father.”

He murmured something else, too quiet for Penny’s large, triangular ears to hear, just before the door closed. But Christine’s hearing was even better than hers. The larger fox’s body tensed slightly against Penny, her strange lower half twitching slightly beneath the covers. By now, Penny could tell her friend’s emotions with better accuracy than anyone, even when Christine was hiding them - and Christine was getting good at hiding them.

“What did he say?” she whispered, squeezing hard. “Don’t be angry. Please.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Christine gently prised her off, kissing her on the nose. She was calm again, her eyes indigo as before, but Penny could see the tension still in her neck. “I missed you.”

“What did he say? I want to know.”

“A week! They never said a week, they didn’t. They said five days, I remember. They’re just being spiteful now.”

“Christine, what did he say? Please tell me. Please.”

Christine sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Out of her mouth came a higher-pitched, but remarkably accurate impression of Julio’s Northern Italy accent. “Freak of nature.”

Penny decided she didn’t like Julio any more.

“It’s okay, though. Really. It’s like the boys from the village. He’s scared, so he gets angry, so he throws things around to make him look big.” She smiled, a little proud of herself. “Father told me that last time he came, and it made so much sense. It’s funny, though. Now I’m seeing it everywhere. Everyone. The doctors, the guards, the other kids, all of them. And they’re not just scared of me, either. They’re scared of so many things, I can see it in them like it’s written on them. Each other, the future, even themselves! It’s so silly! Why’re they all so scared? Why are they so, so weak as to be scared? I’m not. I’m not scared of anything.”

She was looking into the distance, head cocked slightly. Penny waited a moment before she spoke.

“What about me?”

Christine looked back round. The vixen blinked her pretty brown eyes at her. ‘What about me? Am I… am I scared?”

“Why do you ask?”


“I… I don’t know.” Because she wanted Christine to pay that kind of attention to her. Attention which no-one else would give her. “I don’t know. But am I?”

“Alright. Hold on.” Now that they were both sat on the bed, the “taur” was considerably taller than the other vixen, even though there was only five months in age between them. The difference would only increase as she grew, the doctors said. Christine’s twisted genetics were making a creature so strange it was all they could do to make sure she could still walk, let alone stop her from growing out of proportion.

Christine drew in a breath, her lower body shifting, heavy and powerful beneath the blankets, and looked at her, carefully, blinking a few times. She would be completely truthful, Penny knew. They never lied to each other.

She loved her so much.

“You are,” Christine said, gently. “You’re scared… of the shadows when it’s dark. You’re scared of your brother when he goes out and doesn’t come home until after you’ve gone to bed. You’re scared of the other children in the village. Even more now that you’re coming up here every day. You’re scared… you’re scared of being alone.” She smiled softly. “You’re scared of... losing me.”

Penny didn’t say anything for a moment. It was the first time she’d felt Christine put tears in her eyes. It would not be the last.

“H-how… how did you know all those?” she whispered, sniffling and trying to hold back the lump in her throat. “I didn’t… I didn’t even think about some of those…”

Christine hugged her, quick and passionate. “Shh, shhh,” she said. “You didn’t tell me them. But you told me other things. It’s just a case of looking and seeing, Father told me. Looking and seeing and feeling.”

Her arms were so warm, so firm, so right. Penny never wanted to leave. The other vulpine was right. She was scared, and hearing it brought it all out. She couldn’t lose her. She couldn’t.

They stayed like that for a long time, just huddled together, before Christine spoke. “I don’t like you being scared.”

“I’m not like you.” Penny shrugged. “I get scared. It’s okay. I know you won’t leave me.”

“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t. But I… I don’t just wanna do that. I want to stop you being scared. I want to make sure no-one scares you. Ever. Ever again.”

“It’s okay, Christine. Really.”

“No, it’s not. Penny, listen. I... I’ve been thinking about something. For a while now. Something to stop you being scared. Something to make sure you never feel alone again.”

“I’ll do it if you want me to.” It came instantly. The fox snorted, grinning at her, small sharp white teeth glistening.

“Wow. Aren’t you going to ask what it is?”


“I don’t care,” Penny said, and the quickness made her feel so wonderfully free. “I’ll do it for you.”

“Oh, darling…” Christine hugged her again, kissing her on the muzzle. “Okay then. Okay. I think it will take a while. A long while. We’ll have to work on it. Together. And you mustn’t tell anyone. Ever.”

“They’d take me away from you for a week again?”

Christine giggled, her eyes alight with a strange excitement. “I don’t think they’d let me see you ever again. So it’s a secret. Okay?”


“Yes. Of course.” Penny was excited too, mirroring the other vixen’s mental state. “I won’t tell. I promise.”

“Good. Good girl.” Christine smiled. “And then I’ll never, ever, ever let you be alone again.”

It sounded utterly perfect to Penny’s ears. And perfect it would be.

*

Nineteen years later.


“Okay, smile at at that cute mouse on the right. Oh, his eyes… that’s a wonderful shade of amber. Like caramel to your chocolate. And make it a good one.”

The young, beautiful fox smiled at him. She had eyes like liquid chocolate and a truly delightful figure, which her dress didn’t so much hide as accentuate. Oliver gave a tentative smile back, trying to look dashing.

“Alright, he’s taken it. Move in.”

The fox began to walk.

“Nononono, wait. No. He can come to us. Stay there.”

The fox stopped.

“Let’s see… okay, keep looking. And take a drink. Slowly. Don’t take your eyes off him.”

The fox obeyed. Her large, exquisitely tufted ear barely felt the voice humming deep within it, and nor did her eyes so much as water at the microcircuitry spread thinly across them, letting everything she saw be broadcast straight from the bar to the penthouse apartment some fifteen blocks away.

Oliver took a deep breath, brushing his pale fur from his caramel-coloured eyes, and sidled tentatively up to join her.

“So, uh, hello there. Can I… can I buy you a drink?”

The little vixen turned around. Up close she was even more extraordinarily beautiful. Her body, though even shorter than his own was the perfect balance between slender and curvaceous, a form of soft circles and gentle arcs, swathed in a silvery dress which gave her a ethereal, unearthly beauty. She paused for a moment before speaking, roaming heavy-lashed eyes over him. A soft tail swished playfully behind her. Her eyes, he noticed, were the exact colour of melting chocolate.

“I’d be delighted,” she said softly. “But I might have a few… conditions.”

“Good girl. Take another sip, and keep looking at him.”

*

They talked, and they talked more. She was called Penny, and she was fascinating. In less than two hours, they were on their way to her apartment, speeding through a silky darkness of New York city in a chauffeured limousine which managed somehow to block out the endless horns and bubble of the festering city that never slept. She hadn’t even kissed him, gently resisting his nervous advances with a confidence which was not insulting but tantalising. “Soon,” she promised. “Soon.”

They were ushered from the dark car to a softly lit lobby, and then an elevator even more silent than the car had been. As it rose, Penny suddenly hugged him, quick and passionate and almost desperate. Oliver shivered. She seemed so slender, so fragile, and so, so beautiful. He wanted to say something, and opened his mouth, but Penny put a finger to his lips. She cocked her head, as if listening, and then said quietly. “Hush. Save your energy for screaming.”

Oliver blinked, the words so bemusing that he couldn’t even look around as the doors swung smoothly open behind them. “I’m sorry-” he said, and then a firm, powerful grip picked him up by the collar of his suit, tore it off, and threw him fifteen feet across the room. He landed badly, gasping in pain as his slender tail sprained beneath him, and scrambled round to stare up, and up and up, at a monstrous figure looming over him in the twilight of the beautifully furnished apartment. Two indigo eyes met his in response, smiling widely. Behind, Penny slipped silently into the room, lonely and lovely.

“Penny,” he gasped. “Penny, what is-”

“Ignore her,” interrupted the creature, her voice rich and silky and yet unmistakably feminine. She stepped forwards, placing a paw larger than a dinner plate on his tail. “Just look at me, Oliver. Just look at me.”

*

After it was over, Christine called her over again. Penny walked slowly towards her, her eyes huge and wide. The foxtaur relaxed against her cushions, yawning hugely and licking her lips.

“Here, darling.” She patted her shifting belly, speaking in their native Italian now. “Next to him.”

The little vulpine climbed up, snuggling against the bulge. She was close enough to hear the gurgles and distant, muffled wails.

Christine stroked her head, tenderly. “He was the perfect choice. You did well tonight.”

Penny knew he had been. She had watched as the mouse had been crushed, cuddled and broken. She had watched his pleas, his cries for her to aid him, his horrified, shocked confusion. She had watched the hot wet embrace of Christine’s jaws take in his feet, and gently, tenderly slurp their luxurious way up his body, watched his slender form become a bulging, rippling mass, and slowly ooze its way down her upper half’s chest and belly. She had met his eyes in the last moment before vulpine lips sealed around them, and watched as he vanished and his distended swell had slowly merged with the massive, powerful bulk of the foxtaur’s lower half, becoming only a plump, indistinct bulge in Christine’s paunch, lost behind thick layers of creamy fluff and cushiony fat. Penny had watched it all, and she knew how perfect it had been for Christine. And that, and that alone, was what mattered.

She said nothing until the gigantic vulpine nodded at her. Then, “Thank you.” Here her voice was barely more than a whisper and her slender body seemed tiny and frail compared to Christine’s hefty, plump girth. The monolithic sheath which her paw was braced against could have devoured her in five seconds flat. Simply rolling over could smother her. But it didn’t matter. There was no fear in her. There was barely anything at all.

The foxtaur looked at her a moment more, then giggled, gesturing at her voluptuous upper half. With only the slightest hint of eagerness or her own agency, Penny climbed quickly into her embrace, burying her small muzzle in the foxtaur’s soft, heavy breasts. Christine purred softly, wrapping her arms around her.

“Tomorrow there’s some meeting with the Blackstar fellows. About the organ industry on the west coast. They’re getting more and more annoying, so I might introduce my real self to them sometime soon… but for tomorrow, you go and be my representative, okay?”

Penny nodded, her huge chocolate eyes looking up at her. Christine smiled. “I’ll get someone from my library for dinner, afterwards. You won’t have to go out again. We’ll have a night in.”

Penny nodded again. There was no gratitude or disappointment.

They sat like that for nearly an hour, while Oliver continued his slow journey towards expiration, deep in the sweltering hell of the foxtaur’s innards. They didn’t need words. Then Christine said, with careful lightheartedness,

“You hugged him.”

The little fox looked at her again, silent. The mouse’s bulge was beginning to soften, but the twitches and gurgling ripples did not stop. Neither of the two paid it any mind.

“When you were in the lift, just before it reached our floor. You hugged him. I didn’t tell you to do that.”

Christine stroked around Penny’s eyes, smiling gently as the brown orbs never left her face. “Were you… unhappy?”

Now it was a question. Penny tensed, slightly, against the soft body at the centre of her universe. “...no.”

“Then what was it?”

“I…” Penny burrowed closer to her, speaking in a very small voice. “I… liked him. He had nice eyes. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Christine shifted her heavy quadrupedal half around, letting herself hold the vulpine away from her body. “Penny, little one, did you not want me to claim him?”

The fox stared at her, looking as if the thought had never even crossed her mind. “Of course not!” she cried. “I would never want to stop you from taking anything.”

Christine chuckled. “Good. But still… okay, would you have preferred that I didn’t want to claim him? That I wanted to let Oliver here -”glurrrrrrrn “- live out the rest of his happy normal life? That I didn’t want to do all the many, many things which I do?”

She watched intently as her fox’s face twisted in mute despair. “I… I don’t… I’d want you want what you… I... p-please,” she begged, earnestly, “what do you, what do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say what you feel, adorato.”

Penny looked at herself as if expecting a physical sensation. “Th-then… then what do you want me to feel?”


“Oh, darling… you’re so precious.” The foxtaur hugged her close. “I want you to be mine, Penny, mine totally, mine forever and and ever. Like I do everyone. But with you… I don’t want you to feel anything different. You’ve been mine since we were six years old, and I’ll never let you escape.”

Penny snuggled against her, lips quivering. “Y-you promise?”

“Of course I do. And the Vorascini always hold good to their threats, don’t they?”

“Y…. yes.”

“So, what would you do next time? Would you hug the next resident-to-be of my body?”

“No. I won’t.” Penny hugged her as hard as her frail body could.. “There’s only you. There’s only you.”

“That’s right.”

“I love you so much.”

“I know. Sssh, beloved. Sleep.” They curled together in the heat of the foxtaur’s belly at work, the little vixen helplessly pinned by the weight and the arms of the larger one. Penny fell to unconsciousness almost instantly, but Christine rocked her late into the night, her deep indigo gaze staring solemnly into space. A few times she murmured words to Oliver, slowly churning away inside her, but mostly, she simply sat and thought, her heart (and loins) aflame with dreams of murder and pain, her belly full of a far more real suffering. But in her arms lay a heart which burned softly instead, with perhaps the purest, most unconditional love which had ever been.

[Avios]

For a person with more power and influence than most world leaders on the planet, Christine Vorascini was not really very well-known. In fact, she was barely known at all. Only her most trusted lieutenants and higher ups were even remotely aware of who was at the top, and fewer still had ever met her. To the rest of the world she was an urban legend, a conspiracy theory.

Konrad had heard of the legend, of course. He’d always been the kind of person to search for hidden depths. It had started off with a love of conspiracy theories, late nights spent browsing obscure forums, talking about the companies who really ran the world, the supernatural beings crossed into and out of it from other planes, the things watching from the darkness out there. Compared to some of them, the urban legend of the deformed enforcer was quite believable really, but it was still far, far out there. A freakish, gigantic half-feral half-sapient monster which could be unleashed upon you if you tried to interfere with the operations of the wrong criminal organisation? This wasn’t a bad erotic fantasy series, this was real life, and now that he’d finally managed to start his dream career in investigative journalism, he couldn’t afford to go chasing after wild theories. It was exciting to think about, but it wasn’t really true.

And this was just how she liked it.

*

He wasn’t thinking about conspiracy theories right now. He was sat on a chair, staring at his reflection in the interrogation room he’d been stuck in for hours, and thinking about how when he got out of here he was coming straight back and getting a proper look around. This building had something going on, alright. A large country estate, modern style, situated a dozen miles from any other roads or buildings in thick forest, a hundred miles upstate of New York City. Black vans travelled to and from it almost daily, vans which had been seen again and again near the sights of missing persons cases and gang shootouts in the Big Apple.

Naturally, Konrad had decided to try and snoop around. Carefully, of course. A pair of binoculars, a camera, and a long wait. The investigative journalist’s best friends. He’d probably see nothing, he knew, but maybe he wouldn’t. What harm was there in rolling the dice?

He sighed, leaning back on the chair, his slender physique stretched out beneath the soft grey fur. His tail curled around him, his pride and joy, soft, silky and beautifully big and bushy. He’d seen something, alright. The barrel of a gun, pointing straight at his surprised face. He’d never thought that maybe they’d be watching the surrounding forest as well as the area inside the compound. He was shoved to his feet, bundled into the estate, forced to strip, his belongings confiscated. Never mind that they weren’t police officers and this was a total violation of his civil rights.

He had an unpleasant feeling that if he hadn’t told them that he’d told two of his friends where he’d been going, he’d have suffered worse.

As it was, he had all the power. He just had to wait them out. Already, the guards had grudgingly let him get a phone call. He’d called the number of the lawyer for the paper he worked for, a woman he’d never spoken to before, and she was there in an hour, a slender, beautiful fox named Miss Bugiardo. He’d be out in a jiffy, she promised him. Legally, he’d been caught trespassing, but legally, the estate had no right to do anything but detain him and call the police if they wanted to press charges. And - interestingly, Konrad thought with a smirk - they seemed reluctant to get the law involved in this. They were dragging their feet, but unless they wanted to call the cops, all they could do was let him go.

Finally, Miss Bugiardo had asked, did he have anyone to corroborate his story, anyone who she could call? Her chocolate-brown eyes peered tenderly into his. It’d be helpful in case the estate came after them later, she said.

He’d told her the names of his friends, the ones he’d told: Lucia Ganvez and Peter Chong. Just give them a call. I appreciate this, by the way. I promise it’s not going to happen again. I’ll be more careful.

Thank you, Miss Bugiardo said (dear god, she was gorgeous). I’m sure it won’t, adorato. I’ll just get this sorted out and I’ll see you very soon. He remembered her hips swaying gently beneath that little black dress as she walked away.

Instead it had been four hours. Konrad sighed, stroking his thick, fluffy tail. He wished he’d asked her to get them to give him his clothes back. As it was, he shivered a little, fluffy pelt not quite warm enough. But things were looking up, really.

Adorato, huh. Italian, maybe. Her name sounded Italian too. He wondered what it meant.

There was a quiet click from behind him. Konrad didn’t hear it.

It was odd, but he was sure that when he’d been given the number for the lawyer’s offices, they’d said he was a he, not a she. He’d certainly got the number right. Maybe she was a junior partner?

The air shifted, and the hidden door closed. Too quiet again.

Konrad sighed. “You’re just postponing the inevitable, you know,” he said out loud to the watchers outside the room. “Just get on with it, won’t you? I have things to do.”

A waft of hot, humid, musky air cascaded over him as a voice came from behind.

“Wow. You’re absolutely right, adorato. I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

His first thought was Miss Burgiardo, and his second thought was why was she in the room with him? His third was, why was anyone in the room with him? And then his fourth thought... just didn’t come.

He stared.

The monster stared back, a smile playing around her lips. Even sat down, she towered over him, her body massive, curved and voluptuous and entirely naked. Breasts as big as his head swayed in time with her hot, steady breathing. Her mass of ringlets was thick and dark, her eyes a simmering indigo. And below her waist was the body of a gigantic, car-sized feral beast, a fox as large and brawny and fat as something out of a myth. Thick, tree-trunk legs shifted comfortably as she looked at him, an enormous flow of a tail wrapped demurely around her wide rear. Her stomach gurgled.

For a journalist, he suddenly seemed to be out of words to say.

“W… w-what? What the f…”

The beast smiled. “I’m sorry I’m late, Konrad. It took a little while to deal with Lucia and Peter. But you tried to spy on this place because of me, so I thought I’d have to give you the kindness of a proper audience. It's... delicious to meet you.”

“What the hell… what are you? What do you m-mean, Lucia and Peter? Deal with? What?”

“Good little journalist, asking the big questions. The fun questions. But you should slow down. We have time.” She stood up, nearly brushing the high ceiling. Ten feet? Eleven? More? Konrad couldn’t think through the fog of confused, instinctive terror. He was a squirrel, a prey animal, and though he was intelligent and sapient he had never ever met anything which so intensely, so violently screamed predator at him.

She spoke again. Her voice had a European tinge to it, a sultry smoothness. “Genetically, I’m actually just a fox. Fox-taur. This delightful form isn’t alien, it’s just a very rare physical deformity, which would be far, far less… useful if I and my father hadn’t spent a lot of time turning it into what you see today. And My name is Christine Vorascini. Don Christine Vorascini. I am... the person you’ve been looking for. The mistress of all criminal operations throughout the city of New York. And most of the US. And half the world. The black vans? Me. The missing persons. Me. The drugs cases, the shootouts? Me. Congratulations. You just found the source of everything which preys upon your lovely little world in the sunshine. I hope I’m not disappointing.”

Konrad gaped at her. He remembered the legend. The reality was… if anything even more fantastical.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She tossed a lock of ringlet of her hair back. “Any more questions on what?”

“W-what?”

“Good.” She took a step towards him, her stomach gurgling noisily at the movement. Even by the standards of that brawny, padded monstrosity of a lower half, it sagged a bulging, heavy paunch of a belly which… seemed to sway even after the foxtaur had stopped. It wasn’t just weighty, it was… full? And then behind it swung a massive, slab of masculinity, a fluffy cannon-sheath, the slick pink pillar within still pulsing and twitching. She was… male? Female? Both? She was a freak, terrifying and surreal and overwhelming. And why was her stomach still shifting?

Christine followed his gaze, and her smile widened. “Next question, isn’t it. Lucia and Peter. You see, dear little thing, when you called that lawyer’s offices, you called us.”

“I… what? But it was my, my mobile phone!” He’d refused to use the one they offered, suspecting it might be tapped or rerouted. “The number was i-in my contacts! How could you-”

“Easily. “Miss Burgiado” - you should have looked up her name, you know - is a… very special friend of mine. Thank you for telling her the names of the only people who knew you’d come here. It’s the only reason I’m able to talk to you now.”

Konrad quivered, trying not to think of the beautiful vixen who had betrayed him to this… abysmally, equally beautiful one. He felt himself starting to panic, teetering on the edge of a cliff. “You… you… you found them? What did you do? What did you do to them? What did you do?”

His voice rose to a panicked whimper, and Christine giggled softly. “And here you thought you were an investigator. Come on, scoiattolo dolce, sweet little squirrel.Take a look and guess.”

Konrad swallowed, eyes trailing inevitably back to that absurd obscene underbelly, the gluttony and lust united in its pudgy pulsing mass. The stories did claim that the monster didn’t leave survivors, or bodies. Theories abounded, not least that it was taking them with it into its alternative dimension. But silliness aside… what… what else could have happened to them?

“No…” he whimpered. “No. No, please, no, no, no.”

“Puttana intelligente! Well done. While you waited so long, I tracked them down, trapped them down, explained why I was there, and… you know, you think you know. But you don’t. I ate them, yes. Alive. Whole. And not even with my mouth.” She loomed over him, pressing him against the wall, her voice getting softer and more intense with each word. Every syllable shattered Konrad’s whole world. “Peter isn’t in my belly. Not quite. He’s further along, in the labyrinth of my bowels. He was trying to scramble up and run when I sat on him. Oh, he fought. He made my guts hum with the vibrations of his screaming. And of course, that meant I was turned on, and so when I came for his friend… Dear little Lucia is wriggling in my womb. Slowly becoming the orgasm she’ll finally give me when I end her. She felt so tender, so sweet. The way her hands pushed at my lips as they were nibbled and slurped up… oh, I’m glad you let me find her. She was special.” She swayed her heavy hips, letting the bulge slosh and swing. Konrad could not stop looking at it.

“You’re lying,” he said, weakly. But it was him who he didn’t believe. “You’ve got to be. You, you can’t… that’s not possible…”

The foxtaur raised an eyebrow, one hand stroking at the side of his head. “Maybe not. But they’re still there. The weight between my thighs feels so good. And they’re still squirming. Begging and writhing and clawing their way out… and nothing will come. They’re mine now, Konrad. Not your friends. My friends. My pleasure. My prey.”

She wasn’t lying. Konrad closed his eyes as the horror finally broke free.

“I… I… I’m sorry…” he whispered, staring at that plump, heavy flank. “Pete… Lucia… I didn’t know, I didn’t think I-”

“Of course not.” Christine picked him up, casually, effortlessly, hugging him to her with terrible softness and strength. “You never dreamed of this. You never imagined me. You did nothing wrong. You just happened to exist in my world, and… so did I. Isn’t it orgasmically tragic?”

She let him whimper for a moment, smelling his scent with greedy lungfuls of breath. Then she pulled him from the wall and threw him ten feet across the room in one movement. Konrad had never felt such terrifying such terrifying, monstrous, unholy strength. He landed painfully, gasping for breath, and tried to scramble up as Christine padded towards him. He managed to get to his feet, and then her hand wrapped around his wrist, and the strength was back. He couldn’t budge her an inch.

The foxtaur sat down again, letting her gravid gut sprawl out with a liquid churn. Not a sound escaped other than its churns. His friends were in there, screaming, squirming for their lives, and he was five feet away and he could see nothing. Konrad shook with terror.

“Please,” he said, shakily. He had to focus on saving his own life right now. “L-look, I swear I’ll never tell anyone.”

Christine ignored him, simply gazing at his face. She barely seemed to hear him. Her voice was a sultry purr of pleasure. “Peter swore at you while I slurped up his ankles. Oh, he was so angry, so scared, so delicious.”

Peter… I’m sorry… Konrad shuddered with horror. That was Peter. Passionate, wound tight, quick to shout and snarl, quicker to smile and laugh. And now… just a swollen gurgling paunch.

“Lucia couldn’t bring herself to rage. She just cried and begged. She never stopped begging, even when her muzzle was all that was left outside and she was smothered in my juices.”

No… I didn’t mean… Lucia, this is even worse… Why couldn’t she have raged? He couldn’t imagine her sweet muzzle contorted in fear. Gone. Just dribbling and gurgling and gone. Oh god. Oh god.

Christine let him cower for a moment, before he realised she was looking straight into his eyes now. Her indigo gaze was beautiful and laser-focused.

Only when he was looking back, shaking and shivering, did she speak.

“What will you do, adorato?”

“Oh my god…” he said, barely able to believe it. How could this be real? “You can’t still be hungry, s-surely! You… you just ate two people! How can you-”

“I’m always hungry, darling. Always.” She laughed. “Even when I’m full. And right now I wouldn’t care anyway. You look too good. You smell too good. You’ll feel too good squirming and churning inside.”

She licked her lips, her maw soft and pink and cavernous, and pulled him closer,

“Now come here, and let’s enjoy everything you’re going to give me.”

Don Christine, tauric genetic freak, mafioso mastermind, and voluptuous, merciless predator, is finally realised. And she is gorgeous. This art was done by Thaily, who lives at http://www.furaffinity.net/user/thaily/. Thanks to her for doing such a good job, and for working with me to get Christine right despite a -lot- of difficulties on my part. She's an excellent artist and this is gorgeous. Konrad belongs to my lovely friend :iconKallinArgentclaw: ... or at least the media rights do. He's Christine's now. Now and forever.