“Why
don’t we just get one of the girls in back to do it?” The woman
asked, trying to find the best place to get a grip on the log that
had fallen in the middle of the back country road.
“You
know why. Regina wants them moving around as little as possible. Do
you want tough meat for the party?” The other girl said, annoyed
after spending the better part of the night gathering the girls from
a dozen of their peers.
“It’s
just one log! Regina wants to use them as servants when we get

The
man swallowed nervously, as he finally made his way to the
beautifully decorated door; his hands trembling slightly as he
reached to knock. A soft breeze picked up, the wind playing with the
crevat that extruded from his red suit. He paused.. the hand inches
away from the ornate gate, before he pulled back and looked out over
the horizon. He adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath, before
stepping away. This was impossible. Or so he thought, at least. His
body quivering lightly as he sat

Fatal
vore, Feral Pred, Graphic Digestion, and Graphic Disposal.Stop at
the ~~~ line if you don’t want scat.
Fox's Meal
She's found me. I sit
staring paralysed at her face looking down on me. Her bright green
eyes looking down on my frozen form. She looks over her meal before
lowering her wet, black nose to my fur and sniffing hard. She
considers my scent for a moment before poking out her tongue and
dragging it over my body. Her rough tongue pushes over me like a wet
blanket, dampening me and

Prey
It's raining again.
The world around me is
full with the sound of the storm. It falls from the black sky,
dripping through the forest canopy to the soggy land below. It falls
onto my head and rattles in my skull, then it drips down my fur,
crashing gently around me. I shiver in the wet cold and my fur coat
grows thicker. It helps, but I'm still not warm. Some rain gets into
my eye and I blink it out. It's rained for many nights in a row now.
I haven't been able to hunt anything in that time

Lana’s morning
routine always started with leaving her house at the crack of dawn.
She let out a yawn as she closed the door, fishing rod in one hand
and bucket in the other. Despite Brooklet Hill being a prime fishing
spot in Alola, it was never very populated in the first few hours of
daybreak. Not many were willing to venture out to a comparatively
cold basin by the sea before the tropical sun started heating up the
water. However, that just made things all the better for the area’s
y