[STORY] AP T/HRT

[EldritchDragonLady]

Hello! I'm very new to the vore community, and at some point I might just post about who I am and how I came to be here. After I 'woke up' to being into vore, I started having fantasies that eventually turned into a fic idea that morphed into what you're about to read. You'll see I'm combining a lot of different ideas into this, and the MC is very un-knowledgeable in vore and all its depths and permutations. This is because, beyond the content I've been (heh) consuming in the last few months is far, far deeper than I'd ever been before, I'm rather un-knowledgeable in the subject. If there's words I'm not using right or vocabulary I'm not familiar with or mangled verbiage, that's due to sheer inexperience. In looking for a way to post this while remaining relatively anonymous, I discovered this site and created an account. (That was this morning, btw.) One quick note: If you read this and recognize my writing style, no you don't. Don't make me point out that you're also at the devil's sacrament on main in front of everyone we both don't know because you don't know who I am, right?.

Chapter 1

The first time it happened, I was entirely unprepared. I don't think anyone could have been prepared for something like that. I have some regrets, but as the song says, too few to mention.

But, of course, a story has a beginning, and this one technically begins before that first night, that first moment that would shape my destiny.

I was born Robert Kennedy Fitzgerald. I think my mom was hopped up on some serious post-delivery drugs when she gave me that name, but then she was always a little nostalgic for the 1960's and she would later say it was supposed to give me the names of the closest thing to the 'royal houses' of America, I was 14 when she floated that theory, so I suspect that was a bit of a justification.

...of course, given what happened, she might have been on to something...

Anyway, during my teen years I started feeling what I now know of as dysphoria. Of course, given that I felt like I was all alone in this feeling and didn't have the words to describe or explain it, I stumbled through my life with a constant feeling of isolation and loneliness. Things were...helped when I stumbled onto an online forum, and then later a chat group where I learned what to call the things I was feeling. My egg hatching took a hot minute, but once I was out of my shell, I changed my name to Bobbi (though I kept 'Kennedy Fitzgerald' ...I guess I inherited a like for the name from my mom) so the change wouldn't be hard for people to deal with at work and pursued HRT as vigorously as possible...though it was, as many transwomen feel once they finally get started, too late.. I had a skeletal structure that looked to me to be masculine, constant stubble that I could only afford to shave, and a lack of hips and boobs I had to ignore. As the HRT progressed, it got better, but no matter how I tried, I could only see a man pretending at being a woman in the mirror.

Of course, by that point we'd all seen the comics and heard the rumors, a new type of HRT was moving on the 'underground.' It got you incredible, phenomenal results. You didn't just get the body you dreamed of, you gained animal features. Cat ears, tails, claws, hooves, gills, you name it. People were claiming they were turning into the animals they thought they should have been all their lives.

It was patently ridiculous, of course, and if one looked into it (which I did...for reasons) it was decried as bunk, urban legend bullshit that some scammers were taking advantage of to rip off people with deep mental and physical health issues who were desperate.

That didn't stop the rumors and the stories and the talk. If anything, it only spurred them on. We'd already been told all our lives that our truth as women (or men, for the trans brothers out there) was a mental illness, so if there was something out there that "they" didn't want us to know about, then there was probably something to the rumors.

For myself, I'd always been the sort to err on the side of caution when it came to anything that could get you arrested, so I remained firmly in the realm of the passive observer. I'd read the stories of the girl who was turning into a mouse with a yearning that I couldn't identify, of the transwoman who was finding true fulfillment as a dolphin, of the NB who's journey was being told by their owners who had been roommates until the the canine brain took over beyond the enby's ability to function as a human. It wasn't that I wanted exactly what they had, it was that there was something in their tales that struck at something in my core the same way knowing I was a woman with a masculine body resonated. I didn't know what I needed to be, but something was tugging at me, telling me I wasn't really human, just like I wasn't really a man.

While I was a bit of a shut-in, I wasn't antisocial. I did make an effort to get out of the apartment and socialize, though often it was just to meet with the support group for transwomen. Eventually, though, one of the girls at the group asked if I wanted to join them for drinks after, and I said yes. While they never were more than friends, that group got me out to scenes I used to avoid and in places that made me feel more comfortable in who I was.

I began getting a little more daring with my wardrobe, leaning more toward clubwear than the 'girl next door' I'd started with. I gained the courage to dance with some girls that didn't seem to be put off by my masculine traits, and overall began to feel like I was actually worth being around.

One of my friends from the support group suddenly stopped coming to the groups or the nights out. We didn't think too much of this, of course, it was an unfortunate truth about the world we live in that people simply...disappear sometimes. The statistics show that the majority of missing persons cases go unsolved, and sadly just because we were in the same support group didn't mean we were in any way family members or someone who had any reason to assume someone was missing just because they didn't show up to the occasional meeting.

It was to my surprise that she turned up at one of the clubs I frequented on Friday nights. We were both alone by sheer coincidence, our friend group all having other things that kept them from the club that night. I was surprised to see what I thought was mouse ears on their head. I thought they were just remarkably realistic headband mounted ears, until...

"Chinchilla," she clarified as one twitched back, in a completely natural and unconscious motion. "I found a source of THRT and it turns out I'm at least part chinchilla." She watched my bobbing jaw as I tried to connect what I was seeing with what I knew was possible with modern science and then giggled as she realized I was too gobsmacked to reply. "It turns out there's certain traits that are dominant for people and, if they're close enough to an 'animal' then the THRT just awakens those traits."

"That's...not possible. There's nothing in medical science that could even begin to allow...but..." I tentatively reached out with a finger and, realizing I was probably crossing a boundary if I continued without permission, gave her a silent plea with my eyes. She giggled again and nodded, so I touched her ear and almost moaned at how soft and fine the fur was. It twitched, but she did her best to keep the ear under my fingers as I gently stroked it.

She was blushing very red and was clearly trying to keep from tilting her head up into my hand, like a pet looking for more of the sensation. I pulled my hand away even as I couldn't stop staring at the very live ears that were just barely peaking out of her hair. "I...think I'm happy where I am, though. I like the ears, and I've even got a little bit of a tail," my eyes flicked down briefly, unable to resist the impulse to check even though I clearly wouldn't be able to see it from my position in front of her. She giggled, "But I'm honestly a little scared of going further. I already have a bit of fear of water, and if my mind goes like some of the people on THRT, well, chinchillas aren't known for being hardy urban species, you know?" she gestured around at the busy club.

I picked up my drink (which hadn't left either of our sight while she was shattering my worldview) and tossed back a mouthful of Jack Daniels, "I just...how is this possible? I've looked into it and every medical journal and doctor who's said anything about it online says it's bunk science!"

She gave me a sly look, "Oh, you 'looked into it,' huh?"

I blushed and looked away, fidgeting with my glass, "Duh, who hasn't? It's perfectly normal to look into something like that!"

She snickered, "Uh-huh. Just like 'all guys want to be girls,' right?"

I scowled as my face flushed more red, but didn't deny the implication she was making.

"Tell you what," she said, "Since this stuff isn't prescription and I can get more whenever I want," she put her purse on the bar and dug around in it and part of my brain couldn't help but notice that she was digging more like a rodent than a primate, "I'll give you the rest of my supply. Try it!" she enthused as she shoved the unlabeled bottle at me, "If nothing else it'll help with those 'manly' features you complain about nearly every time in group."

I scowled at her again, "That's supposed to remain in group, not at the bar."

She waved it off as she took a gulp of her own nearly Windex blue drink, "Nobody's listening in for deep dark secrets about how you have to fuss with your mustache hair before you put on makeup. Just take the pills," she shoved them at me again, "I can tell you they're not toxic or anything and they worked for me." She looked pointedly at me and flicked her ear, this time on purpose, to draw attention to it.

I grimaced at the thought of taking something that clearly wasn't made in a proper pharmaceutical operation and then sighed, "...well, if nothing else it's just another pill. And what could it hurt?"

She nudged me playfully, "Exactly! And if you need more when that bottle's empty you can call me and I'll hook you up with the lady that got me those."

~~~

Because I said I would, I started taking the pills the next morning. Since they weren't prescribed and had no labelling, I was guessing that it was a one-pill-per-day dosage. It was a standard capsule with some grainy powder inside. It wasn't too much different from my Adderall prescription, honestly.

A few days later, I was somewhat surprised to notice that my facial hair seemed to be...less when I went to shave. Considering that facial hair was supposed to grow more slowly and softer for some transwomen on HRT, I allowed for the possibility that this was unrelated to the new pill I was taking.

Not quite six days after I started taking the strange pills, I put down my shaving razor for the last time. I no longer needed to worry about my facial hair. It now looked like I'd never even had any in the first place. I sobbed my eyes out for nearly an hour before I managed to get it under control and called out sick at work. I was having too many Feels™️ to be able to focus on crunching numbers for clients.

The following Friday night I met my friend, Miley, at a different bar than was our usual. I'd called her the night before and we agreed that we didn't want to spread this around too much without checking with her source. There was also the unbelievability of the whole thing. My lack of facial hair wasn't a sure-fire, locked and done piece of evidence that the pills were working, even a little, because it was possible to have it removed without whatever chemicals or magic or hand-wave-bullshit was in the capsules. All we had was her ears, and it was too easy to dismiss those as some sort of gimmick or quirk and all it would do if we convinced the wrong people of the wrong things her supply...and possibly now my supply would be cut off.

She looked up at me as we pulled out of our hug of greeting, "Are you taller?"

I blushed. While I didn't have a trigger, per se, for my height to cause dysphoria, it was a bit of a sore subject for me, "I hope not, I'm struggling to find clothes and shoes as it is!"

She patted me on the arm, "I'm sure it'll be fine. You'll probably be getting all those little changes that make you insecure about wearing men's clothes and then you can be the big, strong butch lesbian every girl dreams of getting railed by."

At her words, I felt my cock twitch in my panties. While I did like looking like an absolute bombshell...or at least that's how I designed my avatars in online games (one of the tells that showed I was actually a transwoman), the idea of pinning another woman down, any woman, and absolutely owning her with my girl-cock was suddenly very arousing.

Miley snickered as she saw my eyes go unfocussed and my cheeks flush, "Ah, that stage, huh? A little faster than me, but it's not surprising your horny AF."

I blushed and cleared my throat, "...you could have warned me, you know." My sex drive, while not gone, per se, was definitely less than it had been before the HRT and I'd grown to expect that I just wouldn't be as interested in sex unless I also gave up on being a woman. To have the sensation of teenage-grade arousal return so suddenly and forcefully was a shock. I hoped my panties were up to the job of keeping my member contained.

"Where's the fun in that?" she said impishly, "Besides, if you don't want your dick, it'll be going away soon enough from the pills."

I frowned, "...they can do that?!"

She smiled puckishly at me, "I have a nice little slit between my legs where I used to have a bulge."

My jaw was bobbing again by the time the bartender got to us, so she ordered our usuals.

Once I was able to form words, I blushingly asked in a near whisper, "...what if you want both?"

Her eyebrows went up, "Looking to be a real-life futa, huh?"

All I could do was nod.

The bartender delivered our drinks at that moment, so we were quiet as we handed over our payment cards for him to start our tab for the night. Once the we had our purses secured back at our sides and a modicum of privacy, Miley nudged me playfully, "I've heard of a few people who wind up with hermaphroditic traits before they go full furry. The pills are supposed to give you the body you should have had from the start. If that looks like a chick with a dick, then that's what you get."

~~~

The following day I was taking my morning shower and noticing my cock was actually bigger than it had been before I started HRT. With what Miley had said in mind, I almost hesitantly slid my fingers behind my ball sack and probed around.

I didn't have a slit yet, but there was a mound, a puffiness that hadn't been there last time I checked for the various medical reasons people with testicles and a prostate are supposed to do periodically. It was also sensitive! I gasped as brushing my fingers over it was almost as intense a feeling as when my cock was hard and I was stroking the tip!

And speaking of, my dick sprang to full attention and, as I suspected, it was even bigger and harder than it had ever been in my life. I gave it the attention it was begging for, and as I did so I realized my moans and gasps and cries of pleasure were a distinctly feminine sound, whatever magic the pills were working having caused my voice to undo some of the drop into the masculine range puberty had cursed me with.

I came all over my small tits, swearing to never run out of those fabulous pills.

~~~

The following Friday night I was on my own. Not only was I feeling a little distant from the friend group that came from the support group (something I now understood in why Miley had ghosted us), but Miley was out of town. She did text me the information on how to get in contact with her supplier and wished me luck on finding some lucky girl to take home.

I really was feeling particularly ready to claim some girl who was ready to be absolutely devoured by a tall, powerful futa woman. I still didn't have a slit, but I could feel things shifting down there and it would be happening soon, it was just a matter of time.

I put on a dress, not to cover or hide the features I was ashamed of but to showcase my body, which was growing more enticing by the day. I put on makeup, not to cover facial hair or a jawline that was too strong, but to create a smokey eye that would pin a girl in place, a hunter finding her prey and the prey knowing there was no escape.

Oh, was I ever horny!

I went to one of the spots I didn't normally try, a bar on the other side of town that had a reputation for being the kind of place you go for a one-night stand. Or even just a quick fuck in the bathroom stall.

I wasn't interested in the rigmarole, I didn't want to have small talk, I didn't care about anything more than, 'is this girl consenting and of age?' I was on the hunt, and I would take my prey home and satisfy my hunger.

Which, I recognize with the perfect 20/20 of hindsight, was remarkably ironic given how things would wind up for me.

She actually spotted me first. I hadn't even really gotten the lay of the land before I felt a hand on my ass. Startled, I turned to see a small woman wearing a nicely revealing minidress. She had a clutch dangling from one wrist and the bar's little blue wrist strap denoting that she'd paid the cover charge. She looked vaguely oriental, though my American-bred white-girl ass wouldn't have a clue in identifying specifics on those lines. She had dark hair and cute eyes and a delicious looking ass that I found I wanted to bite just to hear her squeal.

"Hi," she said by way of preamble, "You're tall!"

"Hi, yourself," I purred just loud enough to be heard over the ambient sounds of the bar, "You're bite sized."

It wasn't long at all before we were in the bathroom stall and grinding against each other. My dress wasn't doing anything to hide the rock-hard bulge my cock was forming, and when she felt it pressing against her she almost went wild, practically climbing me like a tree to press her pussy against it and grind herself to orgasm. Somewhat to my surprise she wasn't even remotely sated. I could feel a bit of precum against my skin that she'd milked from my cock with her crotch and knew I had to be inside this girl.

I reached down between us and tugged my cock out, then yanked aside her panties to expose her pussy lips. I could smell her, even over the odors of the poorly maintained bathroom. My vision went hazy as I slammed my cock into her slit, half of it disappearing into her in a single stroke. It took only one more rocking of my hips to be hilted in her.

I fucked her against the stall wall, hard. She wasn't a person to me in that moment, she was a piece of fuck-meat. She was my prey, and I was marking her as mine. My vision was practically a wash of red as I took my arousal out on her cunt. I was big, I was powerful, I was in charge and this pussy was mine to fuck!

She began moaning and babbling, incoherent ramblings of a mind that was fracturing under the pleasure of being disregarded in favor of the delicacy that was her wonton body. She was so small compared to the absolute towering amazon that I was that her head barely came up to my chin. For reasons I wouldn't understand until much, much later, I found myself opening my jaw and trying to bite down on her head. Even this seemed to lock into the girl's mind that she was nothing but a piece of meat to me and it excited her to the point of having, if I counted right, no fewer than three orgasms.

I found myself growling a deep, throaty sound that almost rattled the walls of the stall we were in. Was this the Therian HRT at work? Was I gaining the traits of an animal of some type? If so, it had to be some form of predatory animal. The thought of being something dangerous and deadly and so very dominant caused me to practically go berserk, hammering the living fuck toy I was pinning against the stall wall.

Just the realization that I was so much more powerful than the creature that had submitted to be bred by me slammed into my primal mind and I actually let out a roar. And, at least to my own ears, it sounded feminine. Did the sounds of the bar grow quieter? Did the other patrons still briefly in fear? Did my very presence cause them to realize that their lives were in my hands?

I came. I came hard and copiously. Pulsing ropes of cum rocketing from my cock and into the willing hole I was using to ease my arousal fever. It felt like minutes before I finished unloading my balls, and every pulse was a pleasure I couldn't recall ever feeling.

Finally, I finished off, almost casually lifting the receptacle...the girl off my cock. I set her on her feet, her legs wobbling under her and she had to lean back against the stall's door to keep from falling over. As I tucked my cock into my panties and straightened my dress, the girl was watching me with an almost reverent expression. Her pupils were dilated wide enough that her eyes almost looked black, the mascara and eyeshadow she'd worn was streaking down her face in dark, nearly black tear tracks, and some of my seed was dripping down her inner thigh.

As I finished straightening my clothes, she blurted out, "Please...take me!"

I smirked at her, "I believe I just did."

If she blushed, it wasn't visibly different from her flushed arousal tinting her cheeks red, "...cock..." she managed to blurt out, "I need your cock! It's like it's calling to me."

I was intrigued, and just to experiment I tugged up on the hem of my dress, baring more leg. It wasn't a long dress by any stretch, if I wasn’t careful I'd flash panties if I lifted my arms over my head. Sure enough the girl's eyes shot down, seeking her calling.

I smiled in predatory satisfaction, "Very well."

~~~

I had summoned a rideshare and told her she wasn't to clean up her makeup. I wanted her to broadcast the control I had over her. The driver gave us looks in the mirror, but as she wasn't bothering to hide that she was lusting for me, showing no signs of fear, and the only distress she broadcast was her discomfort that I was making her wait, he didn't say anything.

I gave him an extra large tip, he'd need the money to deal with the sizeable cum-stain she'd left in the back seat.

The door to my apartment had barely closed before she began stripping herself. It wasn't seductive or languorous or hesitant, it was the desperate clawing of her curled fingers at the fabric that she had decided was too constricting. I smirked as I began pulling off my own dress, exposing more of my skin to her than I'd shown anyone in years. I didn't experience the fear or loathing or discomfort from before. I knew that even if my body wasn't perfect now, it was on the way there and it was already stunning. I looked down and realized that my bra was far too tight, my breasts starting to spill over the cups a bit. I huffed a laugh and undid the fastener in the back, letting my girls hang free. Discarding the garment that wouldn't be worn by me again, I looked up to see the girl completely naked, all the way down to her bare feet. My mouth started watering and I found myself feeling even more aroused than before, as well as a hunger being present that I'd never experienced but felt like an old friend. Whatever form of predator I was turning into, it had needs that I'd never known I had before.

The girl was eying the swell of my panties, which were unable to hold my cock back. Chuckling, I tugged them off and let them fall to the floor, my member bouncing with my heartbeat. I found myself drooling in anticipation as I shifted my hips one way, then the other, watching her track the tip of my dick with her eyes and paying attention to almost nothing else.

My great room a bit sparse, but it served me as a single transwoman living alone. I had an entertainment center with a good sized TV, a couple of video game consoles (you can take the boy out of the girl, but you can't take the gamer out of the trans girl), and a bookshelf along one wall. On the opposite wall was a sectional couch, the end furthest from the wall was a chaise lounge section that would work perfectly for what I had in mind.

Leaving my shoes on, I strutted over to my couch and arranged the cushions and pillows to make a perfect reclining slope and laid down on it. I spread my legs so my feet were resting on the floor on either side of the extended bench and then patted my cock, as though summoning her to submit herself to it.

There was no hesitation in her step, nothing about her spoke of anything but her desire to please my cock. She clambered over and almost fell onto the open part of the chaise lounge between my legs, her hands intent on grabbing my member and holding it up so she could shove it into her mouth. She almost sounded like she was weeping in relief around my cock, bobbing her head up and down as she devoured it as much as she could. She worked her tongue around the tip and licked it all over as her lips stroked my shaft. It was somewhat startling but absolutely pleasurable when she pressed the tip against the hole, flicking it about like she were tonguing a tiny little vagina.

And then my vision went white when she managed to push her tongue into my cock.

The experience was...transcendental. It wasn't an orgasm, it was like those tiny sparks of pleasure that led to an orgasm scaled up to the size of my entire body. I wanted more. I needed more of her inside me. Not like I wanted her fingers in my ass (though I adored anal play), not like I wanted her tongue in my not-yet-fully-formed pussy, I wanted her in my cock!

When I recovered enough of my wits to be able to control my body again, I looked down and growled at her hungrily. For her part, she was paying me no attention beyond getting as much of her tongue in my penis as possible.

As I watched, my dick seemed to grow. It swelled and lengthened, pushing her head away from my crotch. She kept her mouth firmly clamped around the head even as it was stretching her jaw to the point of pain, desperate to dig her tongue as deep as possible into my lengthening shaft. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her off my cock, her gasp being her only response as her eyes remained fixed on my still growing member.

A detached part of me was screaming about how this was impossible, something was horribly wrong and there was going to be something very, very bad at the end of the night if we continued. The rest of me wanted to sink teeth and claws into that part and shred it to pieces, destroy the remnants of humanity that still resided in my brain.

When I decided it was large enough, I guided the girl's head to the now massive slit at the tip of my cock and pressed her face into it. It spread like the pussy I was hoping to soon have would open to accept a dick, only instead of a penis this hole was taking a different head. It was already so large it covered her face from the bridge of her nose down to her neck. She moaned in ecstasy, her eyes rolling and her eyelids fluttering. This little snack was having some part of her triggered to be consumed by my cock, and it was giving her pleasure beyond the vigorous pounding I'd delivered to her pussy earlier.

Another growl rattled from my throat as I pushed harder, her head disappearing into my cock. My dick was now long enough that it might have fit her torso, but that wouldn't be enough. I needed more! I leaned forward and wrapped my hands around her ribcage and pulled, forcing her down to her shoulders into my dick's slit. I felt a pulsing and realized I'd been sensing it amid all the other new sensations and emotions the entire time, but this time it was intense enough to overwhelm everything else; it was my cock surging in growth. It wanted to be big enough to consume this girl entirely...I wanted it to be big enough!

I pushed her harder into my urethra, her body shivered and shook, her arms moving about limply as she was overwhelmed with being devoured. Her muffled vocalizations made me dizzy with arousal, begging me to eat her with my cock. It was all I wanted to do in that moment, my member surging larger to consume several inches in a single growth spurt.

I gasped in pleasure as my cock head swallowed her breasts. It was another wave like the previous, and I could only think about wanting MORE! Another thrum of a growth spurt and my dick had surged to cover her waist. She had, I presume, been in the process of groping her own tits as she was being gulped down, as her arms were now inside me as well, moving about and stroking some sensitive spots I didn't even know I had inside my penis. The sensations were so intense that I collapsed back on my sofa, my entire massive cock being pulled up and then flopping against my torso. The girl's legs were spread, thank goodness, or that might have caused some injury to my face.

Her pussy was right there, still leaking my cum, and I loved eating pussy... The thought had me laughing as I slid my arms up and gripped her inner thighs, ensuring her legs weren't going to close as I pressed my lips against her vulva. I love eating pussy... and I'm eating this one twice. I laughed into the girl's slit as my penis pulsed and throbbed. As my tongue parted her lower lips, her moaning and squirming redoubled. The sensations were setting me off and I started moaning and writhing on the couch, my mind fogging with the need for more, harder, faster!

Almost lovingly, I kissed the pussy goodbye as I pushed her ass into my cock. It was a challenge, not unlike pushing a buttplug into your eager hole after teasing with a vibrator. You may be ready, you may want it inside you, but the flesh wasn't expecting to be stretched quite like that. The truism was that you never inserted anything that didn't have a flared base, and I was trying to jam the flared base inside me. I grabbed her knees and pushed them together and then pressed her in me, wanting to envelop her completely.

I groaned and strained, refusing to let up on the pressure as it felt like her hips just wouldn't make it through the opening. All at once she slipped further in, all the way to her knees. Between my legs I could feel my ballsack growing huge. I was going to take this girl into my balls. I was going to put her with the cum in them. I wanted her there so badly I wrapped my arms and legs around my now huge cock and began stroking every inch I could reach. I kissed my own cock head, licking and nuzzling and cooing how it felt so good and I wanted to have my massive balls filled with the girl and when I came after it would be epic and she'd spray against the walls in a gooey conflagration of white...

I wasn't sure what had me thinking that was going to be the end result, I was just so aroused by the thought that whatever mechanism existed in my impossibly large dick worked faster and harder in response, gulping down the girl until I could feel her head slide into my scrotum. I watched as her feet disappeared into the slit in my cock head and it contracted down into something that at least looked like a proper penis head. The rest of my member bulged with the outline of the girl as she squirmed and writhed inside me. She made no words, only muffled noises that were vibrating inside my balls.

My world turned into the sensations of her sliding into me, my cock shrinking down now that it no longer needed to be large enough to encompass an entire human. It wasn't returning to its normal size, at least not yet, but it did shrink to small enough that I could wrap a hand partially around it and stroke it, jerking myself off as the girl's feet slurped into my nut-sack. Now that my cock wasn't massive and in the way, I saw the somewhat comical image of one testicle, while still the size of a cantaloupe and WAY bigger than it ever was normally, was dwarfed by the other, which was now misshapen and undulating, the outline of the girl just barely visible as she moaned inside me. I watched as her hands went to her crotch and the envelope of flesh over them pulsing up and down as she couldn't seem to stimulate her pussy fast enough.

I felt it coming. The orgasm was going to be bigger and more intense than any I'd ever experienced, I knew that on a gut level. I braced myself even as I knew it'd be worthless. I was putting up a tide wall in the path of a tsunami that could swallow a city. As the bubble of pleasure seemed to start in my pelvis and grow to fill my belly and torso, the girl's moans and cries turned into orgasmic wailing and screaming. She was thrashing, her limbs pressing against the confines of my testicle even as her features became less and less distinct. It seemed as though she was dissolving, her limbs vanishing first before her torso, twisting and writhing, turned to liquid like an ice cube melting in a puddle of water. The sounds she made and the motions of her dwindling form decreased even as my encroaching orgasm built in strength, and when the last moan hissed into a burble and the last wave of motion ceased, I came.

A jet of cum that had to be at least an inch in diameter blasted from my cock. It wasn't a spurt that squirted out and plopped down on the couch cushion, it was a firehose spray that slammed against the wall and front door to my apartment. Almost blindly, I scooted myself forward to sit on the leading edge, my relief at my balls no longer hanging halfway off the couch immediately eclipsed as the next surging pulse of my orgasm hit. I screamed in pleasure and roared in unfettered joy. This was what I'd been missing in my life, this was my purpose and pleasure! I was a woman with a cock, I was a predator in my territory! I gasped and almost sobbed as my cock pulsed and pulsed, pouring copious jizz out as my balls retracted.

It took minutes. It felt like years. I hadn't paid attention to the time when I came through the door with my snack, but by the time I managed to look at the clock on the back of the stove, the only one visible from my position half collapsed in front of the couch, it was only about two hours from the time I remembered seeing when I left the club. I hadn't been sure at the time why I was so eager to get my quarry home, but the watching of the clock as the girl and I waited for the rideshare had been quite a bit like waiting for a bus when you're is late for a meeting, so the time stood out in my memory when the car had finally pulled up to the curb to pick us up.

When I looked down at my body, I was dimly aware I should feel somewhat disturbed. My penis and testicles were down to a more 'human' normal size...though they were MUCH larger than before. I'd be able to do my usual 'tuck' to be able to wear my favorite cocktail minidress, but even a tiny amount of the wrong movement would make it clear I was packing something the average woman didn't.

My legs seemed to have gained definition, and...were my toes more pointed? Longer? They were still my feet, including the scratch from when I'd accidentally earned the ire of one of the neighborhood cats while I was wearing a pair of boat shoes. But they were more slender, and my toes looked like they'd been drawn by a fetish artist. Well, that's slightly offputting... Hopefully when I'm done...cooking? Developing? Growing into whatever my final form is going to be, they won't look like a DeviantArt commission.

My tummy...had a four-pack. Good, striking defined muscles stood out. I put a hand on it to feel if it was real, to confirm the evidence of my eyes, when I saw that my hands had changed as well. I held them out and realized that, like my feet, they'd narrowed and my fingers had elongated slightly. Not disturbingly, I wouldn't be accused of being a fey or an alien, but having grown up with my 'man hands' I could tell the difference. I liked this change and hoped the trend continued into something I'd enjoy seeing at the end of my arms.

I returned to my investigation, noticing my boobs were at least a cup size bigger than even when I'd removed my bra. Needing a better angle, I stood and rushed to my bathroom and flicked on the light.

My tits were gorgeous! Firm and round and with a lovely pair of nipples capping them. When my eyes lit on my face, I almost wept. The changes that led to my facial hair vanishing and my jaw softening had continued. I no longer saw a man in the mirror, I saw a striking and powerful woman.

A woman who just ate someone.

I waited for my buoyant mood to crash in the wake of the revelation, but it never did. I didn't feel bad for what I did, in fact, I felt giddy. I wanted to do it again, multiple times, and I wanted to experience more change! What this meant about me, I couldn't be sure in that moment, but I did recognize that my sense of smell was informing me that there was quite a lot of cum in the apartment.

I stepped out of my bathroom and looked at the...pool of cum I'd made. This wasn't a puddle, this was an entire person dissolved into what looked like gallons of cum and sprayed liberally all over my wall and floor...and it looked like some had splashed up onto the ceiling. I registered absently that the meal's...the woman's purse was somehow spared getting soaked. I made a mental note to see if I could find the woman's I.D. I groaned, "...this is going to take all night to clean up!"

So...what'd you think? Constructive criticism is welcome, especially if you spot a plot hole or (even worse) a grammar or spelling error. I do have an 'end game' in mind for this, even if I don't know every step I'll need to take to get there.

[EldritchDragonLady]

Testing? Testing? Either I make my writing too obscure in the titles or this forum isn't as active as the kind I'm used to. Either way, I've got Chapter 2 done. Also, similar disclaimer to above, the character's opinions aren't necessarily my own or the 'correct' opinion (though agreement may be found and enjoyed, just as disagreement can be observed and not commented upon).

Chapter 2

I woke up around noon on Saturday.

It had, indeed, been in the early hours before sunrise by the time I was able to get into bed. The cleanup wasn't as bad as it might have been. The floor was tile, and not even cheap linoleum but actual stonework tile. This meant when I dug my shop-vac out of my hobby room I could be reasonably sure the cum hadn't leaked through the floor to the downstairs neighbor's apartment. That was one conversation I hoped I'd never have. It was, however, STILL gallons of cum and with every load of it in the steel drum of the shop vac I had to cut the glop with water and vinegar to ensure it wouldn’t clog up the plumbing when I dumped it down the toilet.

The apartment still stank of semen, though. I was just about to climb out of bed to open my window when I heard a knock at the door. It wasn't, like, an urgent knock or anything. I'd had the cops called on me by a neighbor who "knew" transwomen were all deviant sex perverts, so clearly I was up to "something" for (checks notes) "existing in my own home," so I was familiar with that particular unwelcome knock. I was hoping it was just some missionary or something so they'd move on after not getting an answer, but the door knock came again and I knew I'd have to answer it if they weren't going to take the hint.

I climbed out of bed and realized I never put any clothes on last night. I dug through the dirty clothes and found a sleep shirt I hadn't washed yet and threw it over my body and was a little surprised to discover it didn't go down to cover as much as it used to. Miley was right, I had gotten taller.

Another knock reminded me I had no time for self-examination and I hurried to the door to see who it was so I could figure out the best way to get rid of them.

Without eating them with my cock. Which was weird, even if I wasn't conflicted about it like I expected to be after permanently deleting someone from the census.

I opened the door a bit and saw my neighbor, Mrs. Crenshaw. She was a single mom of a college age daughter who had said daughter mostly living with her. Sometimes the daughter went to stay with a friend for a week or so, but most of the time Peggy was returning from her college classes to her mom's two-bedroom apartment right next door to mine.

I could see the moment Mrs. Crenshaw caught the scent of cum. She not only picked up on it she knew exactly what it was and within moments I could see the gears turning behind her eyes. After a few conflicted seconds she said, "Um, dear, I don't mean to interrupt, but I...happened to hear...uhm..."

She was a nice lady, and I didn't want to assume anything about her. She'd always used the correct pronouns for me and even helped to build the case to evict the asshole who kept calling the cops. I gave her my best "guileless" expression and waited for her to say more.

The silence got to her and she finally said, "It sounded like there was a lot of...shouting last night? And then I heard your vacuum running really late? I...got worried."

"Oh, yeah, sorry! I brought home a girl and we, ah...she liked me treating her a little rough." I leaned forward, as much as the door opening would allow, and said conspiratorially, "I don't think I've ever cum that hard before, or that much!"

She blushed bright red and tried to rally her thoughts, "Oh, I see!" She glanced around, as though looking for peeping neighbors watching from their front windows, "Will there be any young ladies, ah, doing the 'walk of shame' this morning?"

I smiled at her, this sweet lady who'd never been anything but wonderful to me and lied out my ass, "Oh, no, she's gone. She jetted out pretty quick at the end there."

Not laughing, I'm not laughing, it was a phenomenally tasteless joke and I'm not gonna laugh at it! I thought frantically as I struggled to keep my smile guileless.

"Oh, thank heavens!" she breathed a sigh of relief. "Not that you were dropped so quick, dear," she temporized apologetically, "It's just you know how the neighborhood can be so judgy!"

I nodded, "Yeah, they can be. You've always had my back, though. And don't worry about the girl, we both got what we wanted out of last night." She wanted to be consumed by my cock, I wanted to cum like a firehose...it was the truth!

Mrs. Crenshaw smiled sympathetically at me, "Well, good. I may not be able to scratch the itch as much as you do, but I understand the need. I'm just not brave enough to do it like you do."

I smiled warmly at her, "Oh, I'm sure you clean up real nice. I bet if we got you in the right dress and took you to the right club you'd be dripping in people who wanted to 'scratch your itch.'"

"Oh, but then I'd have to go over to their place and then I would worry about getting home safe. I can't bring them here, what if Peggy heard her mom...having sex?"

Peggy's bedroom is on the opposite side of the wall from mine and I can guarantee she's well aware of what happens when two people want to fuck, I thought but didn't say. Out loud, I answered, "Well, just don't do yourself a disservice and punch your dating card before you really want to. After all, MILFs are all the rage these days," I winked at her.

She blushed brightly and tittered, "Oh, Bobbi, you're terrible!"

You have no idea, I thought. "Well, I did just roll out of bed. After that mind-blowing sex I had a bit more cleanup than usual. That's what the vacuuming was about. Did you need anything else? I'd invite you in but..." I opened the door a little more and let her catch a renewed gust of the odor of cum.

She cleared her throat, "Oh, yes, no, I mean...you get yourself taken care of, dear. I'm glad you're okay."

We said our goodbyes and I closed the door, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

Through my nose.

Making sure I got a BIG snoot-full of the smell of a human person turned into cum and sprayed all over the walls.

Once again, it didn't seem to bother me. I had actively taken a life. I'd grabbed a person I didn't know and dragged them back to my apartment and ended their mortal existence. That girl probably had friends, likely a family, and now she'd never return home.

And I didn't feel guilty! I was more upset at the fact that I wasn't upset! Was I a psychopath? Sociopath? Whichever one it was that meant I had no feelings of care for other people?

I thought about Miley and how worried I'd been that she'd ghosted the friend group until I'd met her again and how worried I’d been that someone may have hurt her. I thought about the neighbor who'd been evicted because of his harassment campaign and tried to muster some kind of scenario where I ended his life to save me some grief and felt a little sick at the notion. So no, I wasn't incapable of empathizing with my fellow humans.

...or was I still human? I was taking that THRT medication. What if I was changed just enough that I was now no longer closely related enough to certain members of the human family tree that I just...didn't see them as anything but food?

But what kind of predator was I?!

~~~

One shower later and I was at my little breakfast nook in the kitchen portion of the great room eating a bowl of cereal. I normally tried to calorically splurge for Saturday's breakfast and indulge in a stack of pancakes (which I'd have to work off at the gym, of course) but I not only had too much on my mind but I'd also rather eaten to excess the night before.

I cannot be thinking of this right. Again, dead human person. I literally poured their remains down my toilet like a neglected goldfish. Well, more like the goldfish had been turned into body fluids and then poured...you know what I mean!

It was just no matter how I turned it over in my mind, no matter how I tried to bring myself to harbor feelings of guilt or remorse, it was as though I'd eaten a particularly (sexually) satisfying burger. Yeah, a living creature died to fill me up, but that was their role in my life. It was like from the moment she'd brought herself to my attention she had been nothing but food to me. My bowl of cereal might as well have gained a phenomenal pair of tits and begged me to fuck it before I slurped it down.

The thought seemed to have triggered something in me, because my brand new cock got so hard, so large, so fast it hit the table from beneath hard enough to make the whole thing jump.

Ow, damnit! I groused at my own autonomic responses, I may have a literal monster cock, but it's still attached and can feel pain!

Thankfully, the pain was enough to get it to soften so I just had to spread my legs to accommodate it. I ate another spoonful of cereal and picked up the cell phone that didn't belong to me. It was the only thing that might have had identifying information on the girl. There was no ID or payment card in the clutch she'd dropped on the floor in her haste to disrobe before diving into my cock.

Thump. "Fucking ow! Damnit, this is worse than being a teenager!"

I'd have to get rid of the phone. I, sadly, had no way of accessing the parts of it that would answer the questions of identity. I'd heard that other women were doing what this girl apparently did and using the state's I.D. app instead of taking their driver's license or photo I.D. with them to dance clubs. It wasn't quite as convenient, but it did provide at least a little protection from their identity being stolen by someone with sticky fingers. And, of course, cell phones had been used instead of cards for payments for a while now.

Besides the phone, the only contents of the clutch was some makeup. The lip color was what the girl had been wearing when she'd wrapped her lips around my cock...

Thud. "Oh, fucking damnit!"

~~~

I jacked my cock off, catching the jizz with a tea towel (and thank goodness it wasn't the flood that I'd spurted last night!) so I wouldn't be quite so horny as I resumed my examination of the remnants from last night.

One thing I was slightly amused to note was the little blue wrist strap, the one the girl and I both had from the club we'd been at, had survived its wearer being dissolved into cum. The clothes had been practically soaked in my spooge and though I felt slightly guilty that I wouldn’t be able to track down…I dunno, next of kin or something, I shoved them into a bag with about an entire box of baking soda to soak up the moisture and odor, tossed in everything but the wrist strap and phone, then walked down to the back lot of the strip mall down the street from my apartment complex. I dropped the bag in a dumpster near the small interstate bus terminal that had been the anchor store for the strip mall for a couple of decades, then hiked a little further to an overpass that happened to be a good spot to bump into some homeless folks who trusted the cops even less than a transwoman. I handed one of them the phone and told them to walk around with it for a day or so before they nuked it to factory and pulled the sim card. That would give anyone investigating the girl's disappearance a crazy red-herring trail to follow that didn't end at my place.

I managed to make it home without further incident, though I was somewhat irritated that my shoes felt tight. It was hard enough to find footwear in my size, and now it seemed like I was going to need new shoes again and SOMEHOW find something bigger than the size 13W I was already struggling to find in stores as it was.

I took off my shoes as soon as I got in, stretching my toes in relief and taking a deep breath…only to remember I’d vacuumed up the cum, but I hadn’t actually cleaned the floor. Grumbling, I dug my bucket and mop out of the hall closet and set about attacking the tile near the door until the artificial scent of pine overpowered the scent of cum. I then grabbed a spray bottle of cleaner and a rag and scrubbed at the spots on the wall and door that were still discolored with dried semen. I was somewhat startled to realize that I could not only reach my ceiling, something that I’d been able to do since I moved in, but I did so with ease, allowing me to wipe the remaining spunk off the ceiling in the few places it’d splattered vertically enough to adhere.

Once I dumped out the dirty mop water and put the mop and cleaning rag in the tub to dry, I sat down at my desk and put the little blue wristband on the stand that I had my center monitor on before starting up my computer. I'd already decided to let work know I was switching to Work-from-Home effective immediately. The company was the rare good kind that actually didn't care about whether you showed up in person or not if you didn't have the kind of work that required your physical presence. I'd need to go into the office on Monday and pick up my gear and personal tchotchkes, but as I'd been kitted in my little bedroom office for working from home since the pandemic, it was going to alter very little about my day-to-day. I stretched out my legs and rested my heels on the bed, sighing in relief as I allowed my feet to stretch out like a ballet pose. I was briefly distracted by the need to let the computer scan my face, and when I glanced back down at my feet I noticed that the toes were curled back, like I was pointing them at the ceiling. I lifted one foot and turned my leg so I could examine it from the side and realized that my toes looked odd because my feet were turning digitigrade. I'd need to walk on the balls of my feet. I probably wouldn't even need heels...though getting a pair would probably be a good idea as a disguise, if nothing else.

I spent the next hour making some changes to my life that would make it easier for me to...not hide, per se, but just make it so I didn't have to deal with the fact that the world wasn't set up for whatever it was I was turning into. A pair of tasteful sandal-type heels (with, honestly, a ridiculous amount of lift) were on their way overnight and a bit of a splurge on a downright sexy looking pair that didn't have overnight shipping had been ordered. I placed an order for a 5-gallon drum of industrial strength vinegar (which I hadn't known was a thing you could order, but I guess there were certain businesses that needed that much of the stuff on-hand) and sent off an email to HR to get the ball rolling for my WfH status.

I was trying to hunt down something that I could use in lieu of a condom (no way in hell was ANY condom you could get at the corner store going to survive the monster between my legs, let alone what came out of it) when my phone buzzed with an inbound text.

Miley (Chinchilla): Conference was boring and not what it was billed as. Changed my flight to get home early. Can you pick me up at the airport so I don't have to pay for a lyft?

Huh...I could use someone to bounce some questions off of that might know what's going on... I thought as I asked for specifics.

Another hour and a half later and I was pulling up to the pick-up curb at the airport. I climbed out of my car and stretched out my back and neck. I'd had to adjust my entire everything in order to be able to fit properly and had to adjust how I used my feet to manipulate the pedals. I added buying a new car, probably one of those hybrid SUVs that had the same cabin space as those obnoxiously large trucks the dudebros liked to drive to pretend their dicks were bigger, to my mental ‘to-do’ list. Then I mentally chuckled at the realization that the dudebros’ dicks would never be as big as mine no matter how much space their compensation toys were hogging.

While I hadn't been able to measure myself for a new bra, when it came to 'lifting and presenting' the girls, it really didn't matter. They were firmly in the upright and locked position and the only downside was my nipples were high-beaming the world through my t-shirt, which I'd bought big and loose when I was presenting masc but was now tight and showing teasing hints of my firm belly. My pants where tight around my ass and there was no way in hell my package wasn't advertising itself to the world.

I heard my name and turned to see Miley dressed casually and pulling her overnight bag behind her. She actually slowed a bit, her expression one of shock and awe as she took in the changes that had happened to me in the last week. For the first time I felt a twinge of doubt and regret, a little voice in me afraid I'd become inhuman enough that my friend was now afraid of me.

I needn't have worried, though. "Sweet jesus you're tall!" she gasped out as she rushed up and hugged me, "And are your boobs bigger?!" she giggled with her head between said features.

A low rumble came from my throat as I held her close. Mine! a voice seemed to say in the back of my head, "They are, and so is...something else."

She leaned back, her smile mischievous but her pupils dilated a little. "Yeah, I noticed. You're not tucking."

I chuckled, "You saw how big it is, how'm I supposed to tuck that?"

I opened the trunk for her bag and we piled into the car. Once we were on the freeway to head home I asked, "Do you mind coming over to my place for a bit? I have...questions. I'll buy dinner."

She yawned a bit in the manner of tired travelers everywhere and I could see a pair of prominent 'buck' teeth on both her top and bottom jaw, a feature that her normally human-looking mouth obscured. It made her cute as a button, honestly. "Yeah, sure," she finally said, "Though I might crash on your couch for a bit. I had to check out of the hotel early and the flight was short enough I couldn't catch a nap on the plane."

I felt contentment that made me want to express it audibly. I could only think of it like how a cat might purr, and once I identified it I realized that's what I was missing for being able to express the emotion. I began experimenting with a few quiet vocalizations as I drove. I wasn't managing it, which was irritating but not worth worrying about.

As soon as we were at my place, I felt like I couldn't be more...contented. Like having Miley in my home was exactly right...no, not my home, in my territory. I really needed to figure out what species I was, it would make figuring out my needs a lot easier.

As Miley curled up on the couch (on the same chaise section that I'd eaten the girl with my cock, in fact) I placed an order for Indian and got us some soda from the fridge. By the time I made it back to the couch to set the can on the coffee table for her, she was asleep.

I actually caught a glimpse of her tail peaking out between her travel-friendly yoga pants and her comfy looking shirt. It's probably frustrating getting through TSA with that and the ears, I thought. One of said ears twitched adorably as I opened the can and took a sip but the noise didn't wake her. I found myself just...looking at her, a feeling of proprietary ownership swelling in me. I didn't feel an overwhelming desire to consume her like I had the girl last night, which I was glad for. It was more like...

...like she was my pet. I blushed as the realization of exactly how my instincts were categorizing my friend came to me. I couldn't help but think of one of the therian blogs I'd read about a puppy girl had wound up with her owner expressing concern to his audience about how he wasn't sure if it was ethical for him to sleep with her. The opinion in the comments section was split. On the one hand, the girl had clearly given her consent before her mind had become more canine than human and his descriptions of her behavior certainly implied that she still wanted a sexual relationship. On the other, she was now of...reduced mental capacity. She was entirely dependent on her owner to People™️ and the power dynamic was one of owner and pet, not boyfriend and girlfriend.

I found it hot, myself. The idea of sweet little Miley, chinchilla girl, running around naked in my home, living mostly on instinct and eagerly taking my cock when I needed some sexual release...

I realized where my thoughts were going and, mostly for experimental purposes, I let the fantasy play out, imagining taking her to my bed and fucking her until she was even more insensate than a house pet...I got hard but at no point did my dick try to swell out of my pants and become big enough to eat someone. I thought of the girl from last night and my cock did swell, my jeans creaking ominously as I struggled to contain my urges and the sudden third leg. Huh...so Miley isn't someone I want to 'eat,' I thought in confusion as I sipped my soda.

While Miley slept, I scrolled on my phone for a bit, checking the socials (and having to suppress another growl at the dumbassery of the federal government) and playing a game or two. About forty minutes later the food arrived. I let my new senses and instincts have free reign and the delivery driver pinged something. Not attraction (I’d been secretly relieved when my MtF HRT hadn’t wound up significantly altering my sexual attraction. I loved women as a concept and a work of art, and the thought of sleeping with guys was off-putting at the best of times. No shade against lovers of masculinity, but that was not my favorite flavor at the ice cream shop), but rather the opposite. It was like it was a distant thing, an echo of the actual feeling of wanting to confront him, to stand up to him and drive him out of my territory. I mused to myself as I took the food that he was probably like me; a predator hidden under the veneer of the humanity we were born into.

As I was setting the food out on the coffee table, Miley’s nose twitched adorably, and I was once again overwhelmed by the feeling that this was my pet. I tried to shake it off as she pulled herself to wakefulness and looked around before her eyes landed on the food. “Oh, wow!” she mumbled, “I haven’t felt this hungry since my ears first started coming in.”

I chuckled as I spooned some beef curry onto my plate, “It’s the Indian food. I swear to this day that it’s the finest culinary tradition on the planet. They’ve been refining their blends of spices and techniques for millennia while my ancestors were squabbling over the scraps they got from the Silk Road trade route.”

She chuckled, then frowned (damn cutely…ugh, I’m gonna be miserable when she goes home) at the food. “…this isn’t like Chinese, which, duh, of course not. I just…can’t tell what’s vegetarian or not.”

I snorted around a bite of naan. Swallowing quickly, I pointed at the half of the table that had brightly colored sauced foods closest to her with the take-out bowls of rice set up as a dividing line, “I…kinda figured you might have some dietary requirements. I’ve noticed my diet has…ah…changed,” I couldn’t look her in the eye all of a sudden, “And since you were already on the way to being asleep by the time I brought up the app I couldn’t ask you. Those are vegetarian dishes on that side and these,” I waved my fork at the bowls full of sauced meats closest to me, “Are all meat based.”

She raised an eyebrow as she took in the fact that all of the bowls of meat foods had been about half emptied onto my plate, the sauces only barely contained on the dish by a wall of rice I’d made to contain it. I blushed, “…I’m a growing girl!” I pouted.

She giggled and reached for the plate I set closer to her and started dishing herself some food. I explained what the dishes were, specifically pointing to the chickpea-based chana masala as being a personal favorite. Once we’d both taken the edge off our hunger, I sighed and said, “So I’ve been having some…changes…”

She snorted, “Yeah, I’ll say! I’ve heard of it going this fast before but this is the first time I’ve seen the changes just kinda…speed run for someone.”

I nodded, “That…might be because of something that happened last night, and…” I suddenly found myself afraid. Not guilty, I still couldn’t seem to convince myself to feel bad for liquifying some poor random stranger, but I didn’t want Miley to fear me. If she heard what happened and judged me a monster, I wasn’t sure if I could live with myself.

She seemed to pick up on my nerves and set her plate on the coffee table, “Hun, it’s okay, I’m sure whatever happened is natural for your type of therian.”

I scowled down at my food, suddenly uninterested in eating, “Yeah, it’s very clearly natural for…whatever I’m turning into. That’s kinda the problem, though. It happened, like, completely out of the blue and…”

I set my own plate on the table and rested my elbows on my knees, cupping my face in my hands, “I’ll just tell you what happened. Just…if you feel like running do me a favor and walk. I’m still discovering new instincts, and I don’t want something I haven’t tripped over yet seeing you running away as prey behavior, okay?”

I was distantly fascinated that could smell that her emotions started tilting in the direction of fear. Vegetarian food, small mammal…I’d guess chinchillas are prey animals, I thought as I struggled to find a starting point. “Yeah, I understand, I think. I’m probably more scared of not knowing than whatever you think I’ll be afraid of.”

I sighed and began to explain from deciding to go out to pick up a one night stand. I highlighted how my boobs hadn’t been nearly as big as they were now even 24 hours ago, and also how my shoes at least fit, before trying to describe what seeing the girl was like.

“She…I guess identified herself to me when she grabbed my ass.” I leaned back against the couch, watching her reactions in the corner of my vision. “But from the moment I laid eyes on her it was like I was on autopilot. I don’t know if I could have stopped what happened, but it was like the thought of stopping didn’t even cross my mind. I just…locked in on her and knew that she’d…volunteered. She would let me do whatever I wanted and enjoy it.”

Miley just listened as I described the…rutting in the stall, then the ride back to the apartment, then…I hesitated. The part of me that had been ready to devour and completely consume another person fighting with the part of me that was just trying to tell my friend (hopefully still a friend after this dinner) about my night. I found it intriguing that the ‘hunter’ part didn’t even spare a thought about eating Miley. It wanted to go out into the world and find someone delectable, someone as delicious as my first meal as a predator had been.

“Bobbie,” she said calmly, “You’re growling.”

I stopped my recitation in surprise. I had been describing how I’d presented my dick for the girl when she interrupted and mentally reviewed what I’d been saying and realized she was right. I’d been growling in hunger. I didn’t need food, I needed ‘food’ to satisfy this new craving. It wasn’t overpowering, it was like wanting to eat a candy bar after you’d finished Thanksgiving dinner, you might eat it if it was offered and you’d digested enough, but it’d be just as easy to put it in your purse for later.

I swallowed heavily, “Yeah, sorry, getting to the part that…might send you running for the hills.”

“No, I’d walk to the hills, remember?”

I couldn’t help but smile. She was making a joke to make me feel better. I hoped that her trust wasn’t misplaced.

I took a centering breath and resumed my explanation. I found myself struggling to explain how my cock had simply…expanded, growing to meet the requirements of the task. I kept reiterating how the girl had pretty much been begging for what was happening. How I didn’t stop her from speaking and how pretty much the only sounds she made were noises of pleasure. I recounted how she kept touching herself and playing with her pussy and tits as I consumed her with my cock.

I realized that Miley was suddenly not looking at my face as I spoke at the same time I realized that my pants were really feeling tight. I looked down and saw that my cock had started swelling again, almost obscenely bulging in ways that pretty much no unmodified human could hope to match.

“…sorry,” I blushed, grabbing a pillow to cover my lap.

“…well, I guess that answers whether you’re making it up or not,” she observed, her face quite red and her eyes still fixed on where the pillow was concealing my penis.

I laughed a single breath of humor, my cheeks reddening to match hers. “Yeah, kinda…not able to sweep that under the deniability rug.”

By the time I got to the part about the girl dissolving, I was somewhat surprised at how calm she was, even as she was clearly stunned as I described what had happened. When I told her how I’d cum literal gallons all over my living room floor, her nose wrinkled, “Ah, that’s the smell. I mean, it’s clearly been cleaned, and you did a decent job of trying to cover it up, but cum smells like cum, you know?”

She was a bisexual transwoman, so I knew she’d know the smell of semen, “…yeah. I had to leave the windows open for most of the afternoon to air the place out.”

She nodded, accepting this last piece of information stoically. “I’ve heard of…something like this, actually.”

My eyes snapped up and my full attention locked entirely on my friend, “You have?!”

She nodded, “You’re a Vore.”

I blinked at her, my brain struggling to process her words, “A ‘Vore’?!”

She nodded and began explaining in the same tone a parent might use to reluctantly explain to their child the ‘birds and bees’ talk, “It’s a…sexual fetish…”

“I know what vore is,” I grumped, trying not to snap at her, “I work at a firm that does metrics for small content creators on the Internet. We have a loooot of smut artists who do commissions for all sorts of fetish porn. I was part of the team that had to do a presentation on ‘why it’s a bad idea to get rid of clients who can pay out the nose for our services because sex sells no matter what a bunch of purity cult prudes might think,’ and vore came up. One of the idiot board members kept pronouncing it ‘voor-ee’ no matter how many times we corrected him.” She giggled at that and I pressed on, “Vore is that thing where a bunch of freaks think that cannibalism is sexy and oh god I’m one of the freaks now and I’m a murderer and…”

Now the guilt hit. I still had no emotional connection between my culpability for it and the fact that I’d eaten a human being, it was more the societal pressure that hit me like a ton of bricks. I recognized it, it was the same kind of guilt that came about as a result of the emotional manipulation of the church and the more fascist elements of our culture used to control people. I was, officially, a monster. And I was going to become more so, because even with the consequences of being a monster being flushed down my toilet last night, I was still going to take those pills until my new transition was complete or I died. I still felt too right with my new changes to even think about going back to what I was before.

But for almost nine years from the day I was born to the day he died in a hit and run accident, my dad took me, my sister, and my mom to church every week. I went to Sunday School like a “good boy” and read from my bible and all the things I was “supposed” to do. After he died, mom stopped taking Whitney and I to services, but I had already started learning the ‘lessons’ the more ‘conservative’ members of the clergy used to make men feel bad for being men and women feel worthless for being women and convincing the world that the only way to stop the bad feelings was to worship Sky Daddy.

Knowing the source didn’t make it any easier to deal with when the panic of ‘what will other people think?’ followed by, ‘what will mom think?!’ starts slamming into your brain.

I felt my pet…Miley’s hand on my shoulder as I shivered. “It’s okay, you’re fine, you’ll be okay…” she gently cooed, clearly distressed by her owner’s…by my distress.

It was my own frustration with the instincts trying to claim my friend that managed to pull me out of my spiral. I sniffed back some tears I hadn’t realized I’d been about to cry and took a breath to calm myself. “…thanks Miley. I…thanks.”

The smaller woman nuzzled my cheek, As a friend, dumbass! I shouted at my instincts. Miley hugged me and scooted back to give me space. I unfolded myself and leaned back against the couch before taking a deep breath.

“So I’m a freak…” I said plainly.

“No, just stop that right now,” ordered Miley.

The big, scary predator in the room turned in surprise, blinking owlishly at the little prey animal that had just told her off.

“We’re not human anymore. You can’t judge yourself by their standards. And even if human standards and mores applied to us, you still wouldn’t be a freak. Even before therians started emerging, vore was just…a fetish. Weird, scary to normies, but just a fetish. It doesn’t make you any more a freak than someone with a foot fetish.”

I caught myself curling my toes in disgust, “I believe you’ll find that foot fetishists are freaks, no matter the porn.”

She grabbed a pillow and bopped me on the head, “No, bad predator!”

She had the nerve to giggle at my fierce glare. I sighed, “Okay, so fine, I’m not a freak for finding eating a sentient person sexy enough to be craving it like it’s mana from heaven. I’ll accept that for now, but why are you calling me ‘a’ vore? It’s not a singular noun.”

She shrugged, “It’s what we’re calling the preds like you on the socials. It’s the easiest…I guess shorthand for preds who…ah, ‘eat’ others in ways that gives them an orgasm. It’s different from a predator species going out and hunting for food, which is still highly frowned upon because there are better ways to sate that hunger that we already provide as a culture and society. But people in your boat are…there’s been some folks who’ve tried to find alternatives, but nothing’s really come out yet.”

She shrugged, “And…then there’s the prey, like the girl you…ate. It’s like they sense the pred who’s hungry and their brains almost scramble from being around you. Their ‘four fs’…”

“Their what?” I interjected.

“The Four F’s; Flight, Fight, Fuck, and Feed,” she expanded. When I nodded in comprehension she continued, “It’s like ‘fuck’ and ‘flight’ get mixed up in their instincts and the develop a compulsive need to feed themselves to a pred.” Miley put her hand on my knee and squeezed in a comforting gesture.

I sighed and thumped my head against the wall, “So the reason I don’t feel guilty is she was biologically driven to want to be eaten?”

She nodded with a gentle smile.

“And the reason I don’t want to eat you,” I winked at her, “Well, not like that, anyway…” she giggled but didn’t say anything, “The reason I don’t want to eat you is because your…switch isn’t being flipped on the ‘four fs’?”

She looked momentarily startled, like she hadn’t even considered that I might want to do to her what I’d done to the girl last night. “I…guess? You’re the first pred I’ve ever known personally. Everything else I’ve learned has come from just chats on the forums and the Signal group chat.”

I gave her a look of complete disbelief.

She bristled cutely, “Signal is a perfectly secure platform when you’re not a drunken idiot put in a position of power by a fascist moron who was elected because half the country thought the price of eggs was more important than the lives of ‘eggs.’”

I snickered at her, “Okay, I won’t argue…but I do want the address of those forums.”

She nodded, “And I’ll invite you to the Signal group.”

“I don’t have Signal.”

“Download Signal.”

“I don’t want to download Signal.”

She bopped me on the head with the pillow again.

“I’ll download Signal.”

“Good girl.”

She just giggled at me again when I gave her a totally fierce glare.

[Nikkidafox]

Damn where can I get some of this estrogen?

[EldritchDragonLady]

Damn where can I get some of this estrogen?

As soon as I get a reliable source, I'll let you know.

Spoiler: show

I'm not sure if I should explore the origin of this particular medication in this fic. I've got a few ideas, but they'd mostly venture away from the main story arc Bobbi's going through, at least so far.

[EldritchDragonLady]

I'm trying to get Ch. 3 posted but I keep running into problems that I'm trying to work out with Eka.

Sneak preview in the spoiler to make up for the delay:

Spoiler: show

Mondays, as they say, suck. One hardly needs to be a slightly anthropogenic, overweight, orange cat to come to this conclusion. My growth spurt changes didn't help. None of my work pants fit, meaning I had to dig out my skirts. Thankfully, it was summer still so the weather was good for them. The catch was, however, what had been tasteful (if daring) office wear was now a teasing, HR-warning-ready mini skirt.

Compounding the problem was my damn shoes were so tight they still pinched and the sensible sandal-heels I'd ordered were still en-route, so I'd have to wear pinchy, uncomfortable, too tight shoes to the office to pick up my things. My car was still the far too small sedan and so by the time I got to work I was in a serious case of The Grumpies™️ and wanted to just go home, curl back up in bed, and sleep until I finished changing into whatever I was destined to be.

Two weeks ago, I thought THRT was complete bullshit. Now it was almost my reason for living.

I’d initially returned to the office to get out of the apartment for the first time in months after the pandemic lockdowns ended. With so much space in the building free for whoever wanted it, I got in on early returns and managed to snag a private office for the first time in my life. It was small, it wasn’t a corner suite or anything fancy, I’d never have a secretary, but it was mine. I almost felt bad for giving it up, but given the work environment was already tepid for trans folk (HR, Accounting, and IT, the three gatekeepers of ‘corporate culture,’ were a constant thorn in the side of anyone that didn’t fit their narrow world-view), a therian walking around the office was just asking for trouble.

I was taking a few minutes away from packing my things to go through my email when my boss stopped in. Kyle was a good guy and a decent manager. We’d shared drinks at the bar and he never, ever allowed anyone to misgender me. He knew how much I got paid and had been fighting like a pissed off wet cat to get my pay in line with my cis-het-male coworkers. There was still a gap there, and he pushed for proper raises (and a promotion at least three times) but such was not to be had from HR and Accounting, who had no problem approving such for my (cis) coworkers, but somehow when it came to me their hands were tied.

Why did I work here again? Oh, right, because I live in a country where a fascist took office and targeted the queers first and so good luck finding a job if you’re one of the ‘degenerates’.

(…maybe the preds can band together and show the fascists what real degenerates look like…? j/k, unless…?)

“Morning B…did you do your makeup differently?”

I very carefully bit the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting in any way that wasn’t an innocent, “Huh? What do you mean?”

“You just look…well, I can’t say anything like that without HR breathing down my neck.” I couldn’t help but smile when we both rolled our eyes. A couple years ago when I’d first started my HRT some dipshit Karen temp worker overheard Kyle complimenting my appearance and raised a stink about ‘inappropriate behavior’ and ‘toxic work environments.’ Kyle was being an absolute bro of the coolest variety and this bitch was all up in our business, and while there wasn’t even a slap on the wrist and all documentation for the incident ended with, “…and all parties directly involved agreed that there was no hostile intent and the exchange had been friendly and supportive,” the HR people had made it clear that Kyle wasn’t allowed to be complimentary to the transwoman who did her job better when she got compliments.

“I’ve started a new med that has some very nice side effects,” I grinned at him.

He was aware there was precisely one type of medication that I talked about publicly so picked up what I was putting down, “Would this be why I’m losing down-the-hall access to my favorite data analyst?”

“Come back with a warrant,” I said with a wink. He knew I knew I couldn’t actually answer that, but he also knew that was as close to an affirmative answer as I was going to give him.

“Well,” he said as he leaned against the door to my little office, “It’s not like I can’t ping you on Teams or Slack.”

“Yeah, why do we have two messaging systems, again?”

“Because the Dev team refuses to leave Slack and the I.T. team refuses to use anything but Teams.”

We both rolled our eyes at that, “Well, the I.T. trolls will be happy I’m not showing my non-cis face around here anymore,” he sipped his coffee. He couldn’t respond to that and knew I knew it, so he’d often let me bitch, “But yeah, it’s not you, it’s me.”

“Well, so long as I get the awards in the divorce,” he joked.

“No, they’re my awards, get your own!” I snatched a glass trophy off the windowsill and held it ‘protectively’ to my chest.

After a little more banter he left, and I had the rest of the morning to myself. Not quite by lunchtime, I got an email from HR advising that I needed to sign something in person before I could begin my new WfH status. It’s always something with these assholes… I thought. Sighing, I locked my workstation, grabbed my purse, and headed down two floors to the HR department.

Shelly Parkman was a bitch. She was a TERFy asshole who delighted in making my life miserable and her presence in the company alone meant I’d had to become a rules lawyer to make sure she didn’t screw me over. I pinged on her radar when I came out and she’d made it abundantly clear that she would do me no favors. Just getting her to do her job was pulling teeth the second my name came up.

I got to her closed door and knocked, doing my best to keep my grumbling to myself. “Enter,” was barked through the door and I opened it, noting with mild fury that she was simply sitting at her desk, my file in front of her, and perfectly capable of opening her own damn door. Was it possibly nothing? Sure. Was it the petty sort of bullshit that I’d had to put up with in a pattern of microaggressions the most clueless moron could read like a billboard? Yes.

“You needed my signature?” I said from the doorway.

“Come in and sit down,” she answered in a tone that might, if one were deaf, have mistaken for civil, “And close the door.”

Fuh-king-great, one of Shelly’s infamous closed door ‘meetings’. Suppressing a sigh I did as she asked. I gingerly took one of the seats, the one that would let me stand and leave as quickly as possible, and tried to subtly tug my skirt down so I could at least attempt to appear decent in it.

“I’m sure you’re aware,” she began, “That most companies are reigning in the free reign employees have had since the pandemic. It so happens that you are one of our more senior employees here,” Yeah, I thought bitterly, I’ve been with the company two years longer than you, “And thus have some cachet with those who have joined the company more recently. As such, you choosing to leave the…”

My mental scrambling to figure out a way to tell her to get fucked and give me the paperwork to sign without using language that would get me fired was derailed as she seemed to zone out mid-sentence. I watched as her eyes seemed to go unfocussed and she started blinking rapidly. Almost like a computer rebooting, she seemed to come into awareness of her surroundings and she glanced around, then down at the file on her desk, and then at me. Her cheeks flushed and her pupils blew out wide and I could see a hint of drool forming on her lip. She seemed to squirm in an action that at the club might have indicated arousal. My sense of smell, noticeably improved since my first dose of THRT, started to pick up a distinct scent that also lined up with the signs of arousal that I’d witnessed at the various bars and clubs I went to.

And all of a sudden my body was screaming at me with a hunger that I’d only felt once before.

Oh-no… I thought. I wasn’t concerned for the fate of Shelly. She was now lunch. I hadn’t packed anything this morning because I was expecting to be leaving for home by around noon anyway, figuring I’d just eat when I got home. Now I could eat out and it wouldn’t cost me a dime.

The problem was, of course, that I was in public. Well, for ‘private business’ values of ‘public.’ I couldn’t whip out my dick, grow it big enough to eat a human sized meal, cum my brains out for a good long while, then walk out of a spooge filled office like nothing happened. The suddenly absent HR rep would also raise questions.

Shelly took off her glasses and licked her lips, “…what was I saying, Miss Fitzgerald?”

If I hadn’t already seen all the red flags, her using ‘miss’ in front of my last name would have done it. Since my transition, she’d railed about the company’s insistence on using a person’s preferred pronouns and only used my last name in conversation without any honorifics.

“I’m…” I managed to squeak out, “Gonna use the bathroom…” I scrambled out of my seat and to the door. I heard her moving behind me and didn’t dare turn to see what she was doing, I just needed to get out before I wound up providing all the evidence for a sticky, sticky murder. I got the door open and darted in the direction of the lobby, ignoring the curious looks of the cubicle farm denizens around me. My hearing, or at least my awareness of what I was processing as audio from my surroundings, had gotten enough of a boost that I heard Shelly scrambling to keep up with me. It was everything I could do in that moment to not turn, grab her, drag her to the nearest conference room, and turn her into a pool of cum. Or just hose down the cubicles in an act of predatory territory marking.

Where in the WORLD did that idea come from?! I mentally gasped as I ducked hard into the lady’s room and slammed the door behind me, flipping the lock in place.

I glanced around the space, grateful when I saw that all the stall doors were open. Yes, it was a multi-person room and I technically shouldn’t be claiming the entire space for myself, but I considered this to be enough of an emergency to claim the sanctuary temporarily.

I dug my phone out of my purse and hastily opened the Signal app. I navigated to the ‘Love, Predation, and Vore’ channel and typed out, ‘HELP!’ in all caps.

[EldritchDragonLady]

Been a hot minute, and if you recognize my writing style (which you don't, Devil's Sacrament and all), you'll know that I tend to go days at a time where I seem like I'm completely quiet then suddenly, bam, 10k words. EDIT: ...the friggin QUOTE tag was throwing off the links to the emoji!!! It took a STUPID long time to troubleshoot that!

Chapter 3

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay has entered the chat

WaluigiAutoParts and 6 other members reacted:

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: Yooooo, there’s other trans folk here?

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: …why a duck?

ScootsMcGee: You wouldn’t pick one up in a dungeon, would you?

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: …you make a fair point.

KellyServicesUnderYourDesk:

WheresWanda:

Albuquerque:

WaluigiAutoParts: So what brings you here @WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay?

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: I’ve been taking THRT and discovered that I’m ‘a vore.’

Albuquerque: Hello fellow pred!

KellyServicesUnderYourDesk: Why the eyeroll?

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: It’s the ‘a’ part. I mean, okay, I…do vore. I am performing the verb that is vore. We’re apparently nouning the verb!

KellyServicesUnderYourDesk: You just verbed the literal noun!

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: I make my points where I see the need.

WaluigiAutoParts: Pedantic, nitpicky, and I’m guessing trans? You’ll fit right in here.

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: …I hope so. The more time passes since I…ate someone the more it’s setting in that I’m…kinda fucked.

WaluigiAutoParts: We’ve all been there…man? Girl? Preferred pronouns?

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: She/her, please.

WaluigiAutoParts: We’ve all been there, girl.

MommyShark: You ready to talk about it, sweetie?

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: Not yet. I spilled my guts to ChinChillin and she sent me an invite earlier today. I’m still kinda…raw, you know?

WaluigiAutoParts: Well, if you want to tell at some point, the best time is Throwback Thursdays.

MommyShark: I thought we agreed we’re not calling it that?

WaluigiAutoParts: Why not? It’s catchy, we’re ‘throwing back’ a hawt one with the homies!

KellyServicesUnderYourDesk:

MommyShark: You just proved my point!

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: …catchy. /s

MommyShark: Even the new girl gets it!

Albuquerque: On Thursday we share our stories, usually our latest vore, but when there’s a newbie like you we usually tell about our first.

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: Thursday, huh? I think I might be able to talk about it by then. No promises.

MommyShark: And no pressure! You’re setting your own pace, dearie. We’re here for you no matter what.

Kumquat: I’d say we’ll help you bury the body, but that ship has *sailed* with this group.


I found myself snickering at that line. I think WaluigiAutoParts was right, I’ll fit right in with this chat.

“Alright, gang,” I typed, “I’ve had a long and life-altering 48 hours. I can hear the siren’s call of my pillow and need to set sail on the sea of dreams.”

There was the usual scroll of ‘goodnight’ and ‘night’ variations as I pressed the sleep button on the side of my phone and set it on the wireless charger disk on my nightstand.

I couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto my face as I looked down at the smaller woman that was curled up next to me. After spilling my secrets to her, Miley had done nothing but be supportive, including making absolutely sure I was fully joined into the forums and Signal group chats that would help me best. The ‘Love, Predation, and Vore’ group was the only one I was now a part of that she wasn’t, and she’d had to ask for help to get me into it. I examined my feelings for her, trying to remove this instinctive drive to claim her as a lesser, inferior being that seemed to be the pattern my thoughts were settling into. I had to admit that, even when I first saw her at the bar a few weeks ago with her therian features I was taken with her enough to consider pursuing something. She wasn’t…pinging my mating drive, for lack of a better term. Having her be part of my home and enjoying meals with her? Absolutely. Enjoying sex with her? Sure. Having children with her? Not so much. But even before my first THRT pill and all the changes that had cascaded in my life, I could remember feeling a kinship with this girl, like she was part of my family and should be protected.

Which would make my sister laugh her ass off. She’d always accused me of being emotionally distant as we were growing up. Of course, nowadays we knew it was because I was trans and felt like I was on the outside looking in, but it did cause certain habits to form, such as keeping people emotionally at arm’s length. And here I was, feeling like I wanted a cute little chinchilla to be my permanent pet, not because I felt like I needed to dominate and own her, but because I wanted to protect her from all the bad things and let her live her best life.

…did being a pred run in families? Was my sister a vore pred?!

…great. That was going to keep me up all night…

~~~

I woke up with slightly curly brown hair brushing against my face.

Though on reflection, I realized it wasn’t that the hair was brushing my face, it was that I was nuzzling the back of Miley’s head. Her hair was tickling my nose, which explained why I’d woken up so suddenly and completely.

Miley was giggling, apparently at my somnambulant affection and saying, “Bobbi, wake up! I gotta pee and you’ve got a serious case of morning wood!”

“Uh…oh, oops! Sorry!” I released her and scooted back, the feeling of my own bladder complaining at me. Having a pretty girl in my arms with a hard cock in my panties was normally great, I wasn’t going to be able to do anything about it until my dick stopped saluting the fact that I woke up curled around a pretty girl and released the contents of the water balloon in my belly.

I mean, yes, I want it, I love having it, I chose to keep it and even make it SO much better than the human default model…but to paraphrase the legendary song about removeable phalli, the ownership of one (detatchable or not) can be a pain in the ass.

~~~

After dinner last night Miley and I talked. Mostly about my fears and worries and concerns. I wanted to send her home with all the vegetarian dishes and she insisted I keep some for myself and we spent a little time cleaning up and it was so perfectly domestic it made my heart ache.

We didn't finish until well after dark and Miley proclaimed that she was still so tired, regardless of food interrupted power naps, that she would rather crash in the home of a predator that was feeling protective of her than struggle to manage her bedtime routine alone in her own little one-room duplex. I dashed down the stairs with my car keys to retrieve her overnight bag and was halfway between the second and third story landings that I realized I'd done so without my shoes, on the balls of my feet the entire way, and hadn't even felt winded. Whatever predator I was turning into was going to be absolutely kick ass.

After we'd changed into our sleep clothes (with me once again donning the unwashed sleep shirt...I really needed to do my laundry), Miley stepped me through joining the THRT community online through the same spaces she was a part of. She then surprised me by trotting into my bedroom and curling up on my bed, almost making a nest of the blankets. I'll admit to feeling a bit...vulnerable, and needy. If she hadn't volunteered to stay, hadn't climbed into my bed, I probably wouldn't have been able to sleep for hours.

Once we'd both taken turns in the bathroom (and we both needed showers, in spite of practically drowning in each other's scent all night we both knew when we were just plain 'ripe'), I whipped up a breakfast of the pancakes I hadn't had the day before and we kept chatting like we had the previous night.

I remembered my late-night worries about my sister, but then dismissed it as a silly, tired-brain thought. My sister was far too pragmatic to tinker around with THRT at all, let alone desire to predate on people.

I felt like we were both dragging that breakfast out at a certain point but given how driven I was feeling from my instincts so recently after what I'd started to think of as my 'awakening,' I was hesitant to trust my interpretation. I had been a life-long drinker of Respect Women Juice and just because I was a woman now didn't change how important that was. The power dynamic was now more important than ever, I could literally end her life and enjoy it if the circumstances were right. I didn't want to be That Bitch so we finally finished our food, rinsed our dishes, and I drove Miley home.

~~~

Mondays, as they say, suck. One hardly needs to be a slightly anthropogenic, overweight, orange cat to come to this conclusion. My growth spurt changes didn't help. None of my work pants fit, meaning I had to dig out my skirts. Thankfully, it was summer still so the weather was good for them. The catch was, however, what had been tasteful (if daring) office wear was now a teasing, HR-warning-ready mini skirt.

Compounding the problem was my damn shoes were so tight they still pinched and the sensible sandal-heels I'd ordered were still en-route, so I'd have to wear pinchy, uncomfortable, too tight shoes to the office to pick up my things. My car was still the far too small sedan and so by the time I got to work I was in a serious case of The Grumpies™️ and wanted to just go home, curl back up in bed, and sleep until I finished changing into whatever I was destined to be.

Two weeks ago, I thought THRT was complete bullshit. Now it was almost my reason for living.

I’d initially returned to the office to get out of the apartment for the first time in months after the pandemic lockdowns ended. With so much space in the building free for whoever wanted it, I got in on early returns and managed to snag a private office for the first time in my life. It was small, it wasn’t a corner suite or anything fancy, I’d never have a secretary, but it was mine. I almost felt bad for giving it up, but given the work environment was already tepid for trans folk (HR, Accounting, and IT, the three gatekeepers of ‘corporate culture,’ were a constant thorn in the side of anyone that didn’t fit their narrow world-view), a therian walking around the office was just asking for trouble.

I was taking a few minutes away from packing my things to go through my email when my boss stopped in. Kyle was a good guy and a decent manager. We’d shared drinks at the bar and he never, ever allowed anyone to misgender me. He knew how much I got paid and had been fighting like a pissed off wet cat to get my pay in line with my cis-het-male coworkers. There was still a gap there, and he pushed for proper raises (and a promotion at least three times) but such was not to be had from HR and Accounting, who had no problem approving such for my (cis) coworkers, but somehow when it came to me their hands were tied.

Why did I work here again? Oh, right, because I live in a country where a fascist took office and targeted the queers first and so good luck finding a job if you’re one of the ‘degenerates’.

(…maybe the preds can band together and show the fascists what real degenerates look like…? j/k, unless…?)

“Morning B…did you do your makeup differently?”

I very carefully bit the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting in any way that wasn’t an innocent, “Huh? What do you mean?”

“You just look…well, I can’t say anything like that without HR breathing down my neck.” I couldn’t help but smile when we both rolled our eyes. A couple years ago when I’d first started my HRT some dipshit Karen temp worker overheard Kyle complimenting my appearance and raised a stink about ‘inappropriate behavior’ and ‘toxic work environments.’ Kyle was being an absolute bro of the coolest variety and this bitch was all up in our business, and while there wasn’t even a slap on the wrist and all documentation for the incident ended with, “…and all parties directly involved agreed that there was no hostile intent and the exchange had been friendly and supportive,” the HR people had made it clear that Kyle wasn’t allowed to be complimentary to the transwoman who did her job better when she got compliments.

“I’ve started a new med that has some very nice side effects,” I grinned at him.

He was aware there was precisely one type of medication that I talked about publicly so picked up what I was putting down, “Would this be why I’m losing down-the-hall access to my favorite data analyst?”

“Come back with a warrant,” I said with a wink. He knew I knew I couldn’t actually answer that, but he also knew that was as close to an affirmative answer as I was going to give him.

“Well,” he said as he leaned against the door to my little office, “It’s not like I can’t ping you on Teams or Slack.”

“Yeah, why do we have two messaging systems, again?”

“Because the Dev team refuses to leave Slack and the I.T. team refuses to use anything but Teams.”

We both rolled our eyes at that, “Well, the I.T. trolls will be happy I’m not showing my non-cis face around here anymore,” he sipped his coffee. He couldn’t respond to that and knew I knew it, so he’d often let me bitch, “But yeah, it’s not you, it’s me.”

“Well, so long as I get the awards in the divorce,” he joked.

“No, they’re my awards, get your own!” I snatched a glass trophy off the windowsill and held it ‘protectively’ to my chest.

After a little more banter he left, and I had the rest of the morning to myself. Not quite by lunchtime, I got an email from HR advising that I needed to sign something in person before I could begin my new WfH status. It’s always something with these assholes… I thought. Sighing, I locked my workstation, grabbed my purse, and headed down two floors to the HR department.

Shelly Parkman was a bitch. She was a TERFy asshole who delighted in making my life miserable and her presence in the company alone meant I’d had to become a rules lawyer to make sure she didn’t screw me over. I pinged on her radar when I came out and she’d made it abundantly clear that she would do me no favors. Just getting her to do her job was pulling teeth the second my name came up.

I got to her closed door and knocked, doing my best to keep my grumbling to myself. “Enter,” was barked through the door and I opened it, noting with mild fury that she was simply sitting at her desk, my file in front of her, and perfectly capable of opening her own damn door. Was it possibly nothing? Sure. Was it the petty sort of bullshit that I’d had to put up with in a pattern of microaggressions the most clueless moron could read like a billboard? Yes.

“You needed my signature?” I said from the doorway.

“Come in and sit down,” she answered in a tone that might, if one were deaf, have mistaken for civil, “And close the door.”

Fuh-king-great, one of Shelly’s infamous closed door ‘meetings’. Suppressing a sigh I did as she asked. I gingerly took one of the seats, the one that would let me stand and leave as quickly as possible, and tried to subtly tug my skirt down so I could at least attempt to appear decent in it.

“I’m sure you’re aware,” she began, “That most companies are reigning in the free reign employees have had since the pandemic. It so happens that you are one of our more senior employees here,” Yeah, I thought bitterly, I’ve been with the company two years longer than you, “And thus have some cachet with those who have joined the company more recently. As such, you choosing to leave the…”

My mental scrambling to figure out a way to tell her to get fucked and give me the paperwork to sign without using language that would get me fired was derailed as she seemed to zone out mid-sentence. I watched as her eyes seemed to go unfocussed and she started blinking rapidly. Almost like a computer rebooting, she seemed to come into awareness of her surroundings and she glanced around, then down at the file on her desk, and then at me. Her cheeks flushed and her pupils blew out wide and I could see a hint of drool forming on her lip. She seemed to squirm in an action that at the club might have indicated arousal. My sense of smell, noticeably improved since my first dose of THRT, started to pick up a distinct scent that also lined up with the signs of arousal that I’d witnessed at the various bars and clubs I went to.

And all of a sudden my body was screaming at me with a hunger that I’d only felt once before.

Oh-no… I thought. I wasn’t concerned for the fate of Shelly. She was now lunch. I hadn’t packed anything this morning because I was expecting to be leaving for home by around noon anyway, figuring I’d just eat when I got home. Now I could eat out and it wouldn’t cost me a dime.

The problem was, of course, that I was in public. Well, for ‘private business’ values of ‘public.’ I couldn’t whip out my dick, grow it big enough to eat a human sized meal, cum my brains out for a good long while, then walk out of a spooge filled office like nothing happened. The suddenly absent HR rep would also raise questions.

Shelly took off her glasses and licked her lips, “…what was I saying, Miss Fitzgerald?”

If I hadn’t already seen all the red flags, her using ‘miss’ in front of my last name would have done it. Since my transition, she’d railed about the company’s insistence on using a person’s preferred pronouns and only used my last name in conversation without any honorifics.

“I’m…” I managed to squeak out, “Gonna use the bathroom…” I scrambled out of my seat and to the door. I heard her moving behind me and didn’t dare turn to see what she was doing, I just needed to get out before I wound up providing all the evidence for a sticky, sticky murder. I got the door open and darted in the direction of the lobby, ignoring the curious looks of the cubicle farm denizens around me. My hearing, or at least my awareness of what I was processing as audio from my surroundings, had gotten enough of a boost that I heard Shelly scrambling to keep up with me. It was everything I could do in that moment to not turn, grab her, drag her to the nearest conference room, and turn her into a pool of cum. Or just hose down the cubicles in an act of predatory territory marking.

Where in the WORLD did that idea come from?! I mentally gasped as I ducked hard into the lady’s room and slammed the door behind me, flipping the lock in place.

I glanced around the space, grateful when I saw that all the stall doors were open. Yes, it was a multi-person room and I technically shouldn’t be claiming the entire space for myself, but I considered this to be enough of an emergency to claim the sanctuary temporarily.

I dug my phone out of my purse and hastily opened the Signal app. I navigated to the ‘Love, Predation, and Vore’ channel and typed out, ‘HELP!’ in all caps.

The knob rattled and I heard Shelly say just loud enough to be heard through the door, “Do you need someone to help you, Miss Fitzgerald? I’m sure I could lend a hand with…anything you need held.”

I blushed as I felt my phone buzz and I looked down at the screen:

MommyShark: (Reply to WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay) What’s wrong, honey?

I frantically slid my thumb over the screen as I felt my penis starting to swell beyond its normal size:

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: I went into the office to sign WfH papers and the HR lady is prey!

MommyShark: Oh dear. Are you still there?

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: Yes!

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: Sorry, I really don’t want to get arrested. What if I just…took off? Got some distance?

MommyShark: Don’t do that, dearie. Not only is your system now geared up and hungry, the prey is now… ‘keyed’ to you. She’ll become more and more obsessed with you until she literally becomes functionally braindead. She’s already gone, dear.

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: Pfft, fuck Shelly, she’s a fuckin’ TERF and good riddance! It’s my own ass I’m trying to keep out of jail! It’s a nice ass, I paid good money for it!

MommyShark: XD Until she completely succumbs, she’ll be extremely suggestible. Is there somewhere nearby that you can…take care of things that won’t be on a security camera?

Considering I tuned out the presence of cameras in the office, I was drawing a blank for quite a bit. My eyes wandered to the ceiling, as though looking for a camera that might be watching me, but then I knew they didn’t have cameras in the bathrooms or…

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: The locker room! There’s a small gym in this building, it’s for the employees to use but it’s tiny and most people go to their own club near their house! The ladies shower stall is even lockable!

MommyShark: That sounds perfect! Get her to go there and wait for you, then take a separate route to get there. Is there a different entrance?

I smiled viciously; Shelly had engineered her own disappearance. When I’d filed my transition with HR she’d initially refused to grant me keycard access to the lady’s locker room. It took the then-head of HR dropping the hammer to get me access…but Shelly informed me that she’d “…generously leave your access to the men’s locker room active in case upper management saw reason and changed their minds.”

(She’d gotten a written warning for the ‘saw reason’ remark.)

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: Yes, there is!

MommyShark: Then I’ll let you get back to your hunt. Tell me all about it later, dear. Go get ‘em, tiger!

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: No stripes, at least not yet. Probably not a tiger.

MommyShark:

I took a steadying breath. I now had a plan, and the execution of it was going to be crazy simple. I turned and opened the door, letting Shelly into the room. She stumbled in and I could see what MommyShark had meant. She was already looking as besotted and almost checked out as the girl from the bar had been on Friday. I looked my prey up and down and remembered all the times she had gone out of her way to make my life miserable. I reached up and grabbed a hank of her hair and yanked her toward me, pressing her face into my clevage.

“Shelly,” I growled, “Does my signature on the work from home documents need to be on hard copy?”

She wimpered, her mind clearly stuck in the abyss of pleasure being so close to her destiny, and shook her head.

Thought so, fuckin’ bitch! I grabbed her ass hard, roughly, and lifted her off the bathroom floor, leaving her entirely at my mercy. I kept her face buried between my breasts and said, “Listen to me, Shelly,” she stilled, her arms and legs hanging limply, “You are going to go to your desk and email me whatever links or forms I need to complete the paperwork. You are then going to log off your computer entirely. You’re going to go to your car and drive it to the next-door parking lot, the one in the Xerox lot. Are you following along, Shelly?” She nodded her head, her entire body wobbling in my grip as she did so.

I knew the parking lot had cameras, but the street did not. There’d been an incident with someone on the sales team getting drunk on their lunch break and trying to drive home while so plastered they didn’t even remember their own name. The company eagerly handed over the footage from the parking lot and the company scuttlebutt was the cops were upset that the cameras pointed in from the road, not out from the building. Security footage showing Shelly leaving of her own free will after completing a regular part of her job and then driving off would be the start of the wild goose chase the cops would be on by the time I was done.

“Once you’ve parked your car, you’re going to leave your purse and bring your keys with you back to the women’s locker room in the fitness center downstairs.” I had to ignore the fact that she was now licking my skin, trying to…encourage my own drives. “Do you understand, Shelly?”

She nodded again while trying to lick me, which created a weird sensation from her tongue dragging little circles on my tit. I pulled her away from my chest and set her on her feet. “Tell me what you’re going to do next, Shelly.”

In an almost dreamy voice, she said, “I’m going to send you the forms you need in an email, then I’m going to take my car to the Xerox building’s parking lot. I’m going to bring my car keys to the fitness center’s ladies locker room. Will that be where I can worship you, Mistress Fitzgerald?”

Wow! I mused, MommyShark wasn’t kidding! “Only if you’re a good girl and follow my directions. If anyone tries to stop you, you tell them you’re not feeling well and are heading home. Do you understand?”

When I said, ‘good girl,’ she gasped and, if what I was scenting was right, had a mini-orgasm. She nodded vigorously again, “Yes Mistress!”

“Good girl!” I said as I reared back and slapped her ass as hard as I could. Which was apparently very hard as she nearly fell over, only being saved from a faceplant from me catching her with my opposite arm. I stood her back up and checked her over, worried that I might have broken whatever spell she was under with my impulsive action, but she was panting and flushed. I had, apparently, made her cum again just from spanking her. Well, the shortness of breath and panting will at least lend credence to the idea that she’s not feeling well. “Now get going. You only get to worship me when you’ve done as you’re told.”

She hustled out of the room, a tiny but noticeable limp causing her to jiggle a bit more than usual. She wasn’t overweight, but she did have meat on her bones and it might have been something I would have found arousing if she hadn’t been such a bitch to me for so long.

I waited long enough for the extremely large bulge in my panties to recede. It wasn’t gone, but my pleated skirt would hide most of the lump until I could do my part. I left the bathroom and went right to my office. The kid from I.T. was already there and had been waiting for a couple of minutes, apparently. I did my best to remain cool and detached as he had me sign the form on the tablet he was carrying and explained the salient points of the company’s WfH policy…which I already knew since it hadn’t changed since the COVID lockdowns. I put my purse in my chair and fished out my phone, following along as he had me bring up the website that had the company’s work-from-home policies and links.

Waiting for him to leave was torture. I understood what MommyShark had meant by ‘geared up and hungry’. The part of me that was still used to the way my body worked before the THRT was going through…I’ll say it was some ‘misfires.’ I was fantasizing about cutting up this I.T. guy’s body, but not like I was butchering meat. I was imagining cutting him like a cake. Vanila cake with butter cream frosting. Eating him bite by bite while Shelly’s head was between my legs sucking me off and…

“Okay, thank you,” I said by way of interruption, “I’m sorry, but I do have to finish up here so I can grab lunch on the way home.”

The poor kid, who I now realized was flirting with me, blushed red but did his best to ‘man up’ and finish his tasks. “Right, so I think I’ve got everything, Miss Fitzgerald. You’ve got my email if you need anything else…oh, and you have I.T.’s phone number?”

“It hasn’t changed since the lockdowns, right?”

“Nope, still the same.”

“Okay, I’m good. Thanks for your help.”

As soon as he was out of sight down the hall to the elevators I left in the other direction to the stairwell. As soon as I was through the heavy-duty door I lifted first one foot, removed my shoe, then put it down and repeated the motion with the other. I then leapt at the stairs, completely clearing an entire floor before I touched the concrete the landing was made of. Without shoes, the pads on the balls of my feet touched down with barely a whisper. I repeated this for the remaining floors between my office’s door and the exit to the parking lot.

I opened the door and squinted into the daylight, allowing a minor frustration at having to deal with the sun for the first time in hours. I scanned around for anyone that might have seen me, then darted around the building to the locker room entrance.

It might have seemed odd that the company had this small gym for the employees when almost nobody used it, but that was due to the building previously having been the headquarters for multiple companies. Before the pandemic, the fitness center had been a perk the property managers offered their client businesses, a nice little benefit to offer the employees. As the pandemic hit and businesses closed their doors left and right, my company had been well positioned already to pick up the booming internet business market and do the analytics and even some accounting for the small businesses and content creators that were stuck at home with nothing to do but share their product with the world. When the lockdowns ended, our company was pretty much the only one left in the building, and the C-suite decided to take advantage of the floor space to hire a bunch of people that were now looking for work and would be willing to work in an office. They quickly filled the space they’d originally had then expanded to the other floors at super-low rates.

The management company knew their now only client in the building might not always remain such, so they chose to keep the fitness center. Arriving at the men’s locker room door, I quickly scanned my card and slipped inside. As predicted, the room was vacant of people and, from the strength of the smell of cleaning supplies, hadn’t been used in over a month. I loped my way through the room, enjoying the springy speed of the way my feet and legs moved naturally to me now. I ducked through the S-corridor to the gym and, ignoring it, ducked back into the mirrored S-corridor on the women’s side.

There my prey was, key ring held limply in one hand, panting with need. As soon as she saw me, her mouth bobbed open and words seemed to have failed her.

I smiled smugly, casually putting my shoes on the bench in front of the lockers, “Looks like you were a good girl after all.”

She made a wordless moan and the stink of her arousal doubled as she came from my praise alone.

I took the keys from her hand and set them on my shoes, “Come along now, it’s time to say goodbye to the world.”

“Good…bye t…to the world…” she parroted in a dreamy voice. I chuckled as I led her into the shower stall.

The space was large, meant to be wheelchair accessible, it was big enough that we could have laid down in it. I had something else in mind, though.

I shoved her against the wall, pressing her face against the tile. I reached back and pulled the door closed and flicked the latch to the ‘occupied’ position. I then leaned in to whisper in her ear, “You’re not allowed to scream or moan or make any noise above a whimper for the rest of your short life. You’d better show me how much you appreciate what I’m doing to you.”

And did she ever whimper. She nodded her head, her whole form shivering as I growled in approval. I could feel my lips peeling back to reveal my teeth. I was smiling, but it was the hungry smile of an apex hunter about to eat. I reached down and flipped up her skirt, groping her ass. “For such a delicious body, you sure let a pathetic personality ride it for far too long.” I slid my fingers along the strip of panties that ran from the gusset to the little fold that was made by the split in her ass cheeks, “And you know it, too. You thought you got off on being powerful and cutting down other women…” I pressed my fingers into her pussy, not bothering to move the fabric aside, “But look at you, even as your mind is collapsing on itself, you’re consumed by lust because a transwoman is about to end your worthless life.”

She whimpered again, not out of fear but out of desire. “Oh, you’re so eager for me to end you, aren’t you?” she nodded her head and I slammed my palm against her head, pressing her temple into the cold tile, “You’re so very eager for me to make your brain melt out of your ears before your skull melts away into cum in my balls, aren’t you?” She shivered from an apparent mini orgasm again, the fingers I was pressing into her slit becoming downright soaked as she made noises that almost, but not quite, devolved into a moan. I’d told her not to, so she wouldn’t until she was incapable of making any more noise at all.

I yanked her panties down, exposing her ass to the air before groping her right butt cheek. “You want me to destroy you so bad…I want you to think about all the times you tried to make me feel lesser than you, all the ways you made yourself an intolerable cunt as I claim your ass for the last time.” I smirked as she shivered, “Has anyone ever managed to stick their dick in your tight ass, cumrag?”

She swallowed her moan and tried to shake her head no.

I chuckled darkly, “Well then I’m going to enjoy making you cum from your first and final anal orgasm. And every time you cum, you’re going to imagine all the times I could have made you my bitch in bed, all the ways we could have fucked and enjoyed it if you hadn’t been such a phenomenal scab of personality."

I could almost imagine claws popping out from my fingertips as I grabbed the woman's ass firmly, "You're getting so fucking horny off me abusing you, of tearing you down," whether Shelly had been a masochist before or not didn't matter. Me saying it was making it so, "Whenever I inflict pain on you, your sick, perverted brain just twists it to pleasure, doesn't it? Oh, what a filthy corporate whore you are."

The slab of meat that had been the HR rep in charge of my file was losing her intellect before my eyes. She panted and made little 'uh...uh' noises in her desperate bid to please me. I grabbed her hair and yanked her away from the wall, stepping back enough to be able to grab her hip with my free hand and bend her over at the waist. "Grab your ankles like a good corporate slut, there's a girl. You like taking it from your superiors, don't you?" I straightened and tucked my hands under my skirt, tugging my panties off, dropping them to the shower floor before kicking them over to the gap at the bottom of the door, "You don't even have any thoughts of your own, you just let someone come along and fill you up."

I grabbed her hips and lined my cock up with her pussy. Was I going to fuck her ass? Yes. I wanted enough fluid to make it so I could go in at least a little easier than a dry pucker would make it. I pressed the tip into her swollen lips and spanked her ass. I swung again I thrust my hips, my palm cracking against her flesh. I repeated this with every push deeper, and each time I felt her slit get a little slicker around my rod, "That's right, get my dick ready to claim your ass! I want that sphincter to take my cock like you let the C-suite fuck over the company!"

She was now making a weird little ululating sound, trying so hard to keep from actually moaning. "Listen to you. You can't even express yourself. I bet you'd be moaning and begging if I let you. Do you want to beg me for my cock to claim you? To stretch your colon to complete uselessness?"

She bobbed her head in an enthusiastic affirmative.

"Oh, very well. Show me how much you want me to ruin your asshole before I turn you into slimy cum."

"Please mistress! Destroy my ass! Make it so I can't close it up! Ruin me before you destroy me! I need to give you everything! My ass, my pussy, my body! All of it! Fuck my dirty whore ass!"

"Look at you," I sneered as I pulled my cock from her slit, "Fucking worthless! Ready to just do as your told...you are so goddamned useless that I sincerely doubt that I'll gain so much as a calorie from this, but it's still going to be so worth it"

And with that, I carefully lined up the tip of my cock with her back door and pushed in. It wasn't that I wanted it to be a good experience for her, she'd feel pleasure even if I tore her in half at this point. It was that I found blood in the process of sex off-putting and didn't want to distract from what I was doing. That did raise the question of why I wasn’t interested in anything bloody if I was a vore, a predator. Shouldn’t that be a hard-wired trigger to make it so I’d be more likely to hunt? MommyShark did her vore the ‘old fashioned’ way, complete with using her teeth to make bloody messes, but I wasn’t interested in blood in the slightest and found the thought a turn off.

Then again, I was about to swallow a woman whole with my cock and melt her with my balls. The rules of ‘normal’ were swept clean off the table, crushed underfoot, and swept into the dustbin.

Even as I remembered what the end-game of this particular interaction would be, I felt my cock swell inside Shelly’s ass. She moaned and whimpered as she was stretched, and suddenly pre-cum practically gushed out of my dick in volumes that I used to consider a ‘normal’ load. I started pulling out in preparation for a thrust and it was like her sphincter was milking the fluid from my cock. It was, however, the perfect amount of lubrication to allow me to plunge my dick deeper. I began thrusting, my penis going deeper and deeper each time while somehow still taking just as many thrusts. I knew I must be getting longer inside her and I looked down at her waste and saw a bulge crawling under her skin, back and forth with my thrusts. I was seeing the tip of my cock crawling deeper and deeper into her, my precum pouring inside her the entire way, lubricating the passage and somehow eliminating the logical ‘obstructions’ that should be present if she hadn’t been fasting in preparation for a serious anal pounding.

(…what? I already said I love anal, I’ve had to do the anal sex fasting diet before. It’s not hard and the results are usually very rewarding.)

I slid my hand across her skin from the hip I’d been holding to fuck her to the bulge in her abdomen and stroked it, feeling the muted stroking and shivering in pleasure. As though the touch were a reminder of just how little I regarded her as just a cock-socket by this point was the match to the tip of a gas pump nozzle, she came explosively. Shelly was, apparently a squirter. I was immensely glad I hadn’t worn pantyhose as they’d have been completely soaked. As it was I was going to have to hose down my legs with the shower before I left or I’d stink of arousal while walking around the office.

And because I was still feeling at least a little vindictive, I smacked her ass to give her a second orgasm on the heels of the first.

“I’m going to shove you off my cock now, cumrag,” I told her, “You’re just moments away from being melted into gallons of cum in my balls. Are you ready?” I didn’t wait for an answer, just pushing her away from my hips.

I was momentarily shocked when she didn’t just fall to the floor…because her ass was tightly wrapped around my nearly six-inch diameter cock. She was being held up by sheer friction, even with the lubrication provided by my somehow miraculous precum.

Growling in amazed frustration, I pushed more, my member revealing itself inch by inch as Shelly seemed to cum in rapid-fire from the sensation. By the time I extracted the three feet of sausage that my dick had grown into, she was a quivering mess collapsed in a jumble of whimpering limbs at my feet. Purely for curiosity’s sake, I tilted my head to get a better view of her ass, just to see if I had, indeed, caused her to gape. My eyebrows shot up, I could put my closed fist in there without touching the sides!

It was a good thing she wasn’t long for this world or she’d need medical treatment to walk around without shitting herself every day. Even as I watched a trickle of my precum dribbled down her thigh and ass-cheek.

Deciding to waste no further time, I knelt down and picked up her feet by her ankles. I’m not a foot-person, but without my cock being at the absolutely massive size it had been on Friday, big enough that the tip could fit an entire human head inside, I figured that starting with her feet would let me get started while my cock continued to grow.

I removed her shoes and tossed them in the direction of the door, one of them thudding against the slats that allowed the air to circulate, before pushing the toes of one foot against the slit of my cock. A worry that I didn’t realize was niggling at me was silenced as my urethra seemed to simply open up, letting the foot slide in like I was putting her in a pocket. Now emboldened, I repeated the motion with her other foot, sliding it in next to its mate. I grabbed her shins and pulled, ignoring her vacuous moaning as her arousal started to gear up again. I’d had my revenge, petty though it was. It was as petty as the vendetta she’d had against me for years and now I felt about thirty pounds lighter, at least emotionally. No doubt I was about to gain some significant weight in a few minutes. Shelly was gone, already destroyed by whatever it was that caused her switch to flip from ‘annoying and toxic bitch’ to ‘food for my pred nature.’ From this point forward my time in the shower was all about my own pleasure.

I groaned as I felt my cock start to pull her inside me. I wasn’t going to force whatever almost baby-new muscles and autonomic systems to do too much, but for just a moment I marveled at the delicious, alien feeling of my penis working to ‘swallow’ food in was the human body wasn’t made for. Of course, it was just a reminder that I wasn’t human, at least not strictly, anymore. I was therian, and a rare vore type as well. Nobody knew what I was but it was going to be one of the biggest, strongest creatures on the planet before anyone could say ‘apex predator’ and the thought had me shuddering with a minigasm as my cock tried to fight gravity and pull my meal inside it.

I reached down and grabbed my prey’s knees, using my recently gifted strength to almost casually lift her like a limp sack. My cock responded with a surge of growth, stopping at her bent knees as it was unable to make the tight turn. I grabbed the waistband of the skirt and had the momentary thought that I was about to consume clothing with my victim, but that was obliterated as I hauled up on the awkward bundle of living being and my cock surged up her legs and eagerly spread over Shelly’s hips.

The flare of the large, deliciously round ass and hips was such an incredible turn-on that I had to sag against the wall to keep from falling over. I felt my knees shaking as my own orgasm started to build. It wouldn’t really happen until I had a load ready to shoot, at least if my experience last Friday was any guide, so I grabbed a handful of blouse and shoved down. I felt my testicles start to expand, eagerly filling the space between my trembling legs and sagging to the floor as my cock made it to Shelly’s clothed tits before halting again.

I stood there breathing, my hungry cock holding my victim upright as her head lolled to the side. Her eyes were glazed but fixed on me, an enraptured expression on her face, as though I was her entire reason for existing in the first place. Her whole purpose of being born, going through life on bitchy autopilot, making me suffer for years was to make sure that I had a good meal as my second voring ever.

(…is ‘voring’ even a word? I’d have to ask the group. Later.)

A random thought occurred to me; I’d never seen her naked breasts. I’d seen her gaping asshole and watched her beg for me to end her life, but I’d never seen her tits. Well, I thought, That just won’t do! I grabbed her blouse and yanked it open, a button snapping off and clattering against the shower tile. Her bra was in the way. Growling, I grabbed a cup in each hand and snapped the fabric at the join in the middle.

Because I’d always been a breast woman, even before my trans-egg hatched, I couldn’t leave a pair of breasts un-attended when they were so obviously there for me to enjoy. I pulled my cock closer, moaning as I sucked a rock-hard nipple into my mouth. Shelly groaned and whimpered, her arms shifting like she wanted to reciprocate in some way. Well, can’t have the food trying to get intimate, now, can I? I grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her and against the underside of my cock. She moaned, whether at my oral ministrations, my display of dominance, or just the increased exposure to my cock I had no idea.

I spent several minutes just swimming in the pleasure of a pair of tits at my disposal and my cock feeling pleasantly full. It was like edging, staying right on the lip of sexual release for as long as possible. It was heady and delicious and I was in my zen happy place for a blissfully carefree period of time.

Eventually, however, the hunger grew strong enough that my arousal took a back seat. As I pulled off her tit with a ‘pop’ from my lips, I sighed, “What might have been if you weren’t such a horrible cunt.” I shook my head with a ‘tsk’ and took a wrist in each hand, “Well, down you go. Say goodbye, Shelly.”

She smiled at me with a dreamy expression and said, “…good…bye…mistress…”

I raised her arms, eliminating the stop that the bend formed that was keeping my cock from simply swallowing her, then strained, trying to flex those new muscles that would draw her into my nutsack.

With a groan, I managed to suck her tits into my cock’s slit and shuddered in pleasure as her head disappeared into me. Her hands followed shortly after and as she dropped down in to my scrotum, my cock shrank back down to the same still-extremely-large-but-handle-able size that I’d jerked myself off with last Friday. I moaned as I felt her squirming inside me, her hands listlessly trying to amplify her own pleasure stroking some new sensitive spots inside my ball sack as I stroked my cock with one hand, rubbing and kneading the head with the other.

It took almost no time for my orgasm to start, I’d teased and taunted myself for long enough by that point that it was GOING to tip over at the slightest push. What I wasn’t prepared for was how long it lasted! I started cumming almost as soon as Shelly started dissolving inside me, and my testicles…scrotum…some new organ that we didn’t have a name for…something was squeezing and kneading and frantically working to turn my prey into my cum and it almost couldn’t work fast enough. I started cumming in spurts. Not jets like I had on Friday, there wasn’t enough pent up to cause that conflagration of cum. Every shudder of my body caused more of Shelly to melt, which was then squeezed right back up into my cock to spurt out onto the shower floor. Every spurt meant that her body was dissolving faster and faster, and by the time she issued her final moan there was enough of a backup of cum that I was spraying the wall opposite the one I was leaning against.

I was shivering, quivering like a newborn foal. I idly wondered if I’d have the strength to make it back up the stairs without being noticed, let along getting out the door. The occasional shiver rocked my body as my still shrinking balls managed to find more ‘leftovers’ and squirt them out of my almost-normal-sized cock. I was covered in sweat and the room stank like the worlds largest bukkake party.

I couldn’t wait to do it again.

~~~

Clean up, as with anything truly worth doing, was the least fun part.

I had somehow cum out Shelly’s entire outfit. Blouse (sans one button), torn bra, skirt, a couple of pieces of jewelry, and even colored contacts. Of course she faked her eye color! I fussed as I deposited the slimed outfit and accessories in a garbage sack I’d retrieved from the locker room’s trash can. It hadn’t been used, probably in a longer amount of time since the little gym had been last visited by someone who wasn’t cleaning staff. I dumped the bag of cum-soaked clothes in the trash can nearest the café that catered to the office park. If any fluids or smell escaped, it’d be mistaken for food refuse easily enough.

A slightly puckish part of me hung onto her shoes, though. I couldn’t have told you why. Probably for the same reason I kept the wristband from the club I’d picked up my first prey at.

I actually did utilize the shower, though I didn’t completely disrobe. I had to wash my lower legs and feet of both Shelly’s bodily fluids and my own jizz and the steaming hot water had a bit of a challenge breaking up the cum enough to wash it down the drain, and even if I wouldn’t have a pussy for at least a few days or weeks, I could already kiss the inventor of the detachable shower head. With tongue. Being able to specifically direct the spray of water was a lifesaver. It took a good hour before I was able to sneak back into the office and hide the purloined shoes and car keys in the box that I was packing all my office stuff in. Facilities had dropped off a box with what I’d need to be fully portable with company equipment and a docking station for my laptop.

I stopped by Kyle’s office one last time, and this time he couldn’t not comment, “…are you TALLER?!”

I blushed, “Yeeeeah, apparently a bit of a medication induced growth spurt. I feel fine, but it’s making clothes a challenge.” I tugged the hem of my skirt down demonstrably.

Which was also two inches higher than when I’d walked into work that day.

(I swear, the sooner I got these shoes off the better. They were starting to hurt.)

We chatted just a bit more before I left, promising to message tomorrow morning when I was at my desk at my usual time. It wasn’t that the company tracked our time if we weren’t one of the people on the phones, but both Kyle and I were well aware the C-suite was always on the lookout for any reason to axe the WfH program and neither of us were interested in giving them the excuse. Not being instantly available on Teams or Slack would give them said excuse if it happened often enough.

Once I got in the elevator for the last time, I yanked off my shoes and dropped them in my box of stuff, swearing I’d never wear that pair again.

I got to my car and tried in vain to get the seat to go further back before giving it up as a bad job. I made a note in my phone’s calendar to stop by the car dealership Saturday and then paused, realizing I hadn’t updated the chat room since my rather frantic conversation with MommyShark.

I switched over to Signal:

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: Condition green, successfully out of the office with no evidence left behind.

MommyShark: Excellent! Good hunt, dear?

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: Very good! And cathartic. I think I managed to work through some stuff today.

MommyShark: That’s wonderful! Are you doing okay otherwise?

I looked out through the windshield at the mostly full parking lot in the direction of the Xerox building next door. I wasn’t done, not before I got home, got myself a burner phone and loaded a gift card with cash that I could use to pay for a Lyft with a throw-away account to get back to pick up Shelly’s car, then otherwise get rid of it…somehow. I’d have to see if someone could point me to an illicit chop shop that was willing to take a donation.

But in all? The ‘hunt’ had been thrilling! Sure, my prey walked into my cock, but everything else around that? The thrum of adrenaline and the challenge of playing cat and mouse when I was the cat looking to outwit the mice that weren’t even aware the game was afoot? Basically being a reverse Sherlock Holmes as I constructed ways to throw off a trail as the act I could be arrested for was being done?

All Cops Are Bastards anyway. I’d never felt more powerful and like myself in my life, even after coming out trans.

WeAllUseNumb3rsEveryDay: Yeah, I’m good.

~~~
~~~
~~~

No, that isn't the end of the fic, but that is a good ending to this chapter. Expect more worldbuilding next chapter, and Throwback Thursday will be interesting to write! I've already started digging into more vore content to get inspiration and I've got several ideas, Spoiler: show including some therian flora that I hadn't considered before my most recent dive into the tag on e-hentai.

[Squidia]

Lemme tell you, I have been SORELY craving some transfemme-perspective vore fiction lately, and this does not disappoint.
I'm particularly enjoying the focus on the 'corruption' angle. That Bobbi isn't just immediately made a remorseless predator, that she actually sits down and thinks about her sense of ethics and how her transformation is shifting them. It's not glossed over, and it's tested across multiple directions.

I'm particularly fond of the "I want to protect and own my bestie, but I also worry that these instincts are objectifying her" elements. As someone who grapples with a lot of self-loathing for my own desires relating to this fetish, it kinda hit me where I live.