Stater Brothers, of all places. Stater Brothers is where you make the mistake that gets you killed.
 
You're in the supermarket a block from your apartment, doing some random shopping, when you see her. You drop three packets of Ramen noodles into your bag, look up, and see the skunkette.
 
At first you think it's a mascot costume, a close fitting one stretched over a voluptuous woman. The great brush of black-and-white tail, the clawed hands, the sandaled furry feet (also with claws) and obviously the muzzle, all these must be part of the costume. But they aren't.
 
"Spaghetti," you hear her purr, and a thick, black, furry arm reaches past her. Whoever it is must be two feet taller than she is. You edge to the side, pretending to peer at the Campbell's Soup display. Part of the second person comes into view. It's another skunk, one at least seven feet tall.
 
Striper and Sandra. You realize who you're looking at. Striper and Sandra are maybe the best known of the Project's humanoid animal creations. There are only a few of those. You remember reading an article about them. They live in Alaska somewhere. What are they doing in Lancaster, California? Visiting that Project subsidiary in Rosamond, maybe?
 
Your gaze slides back to the skunkette's broad hips and ample bosom. The things you'd like to do to her if you go her alone. The brush of skunk tail only makes her hotter. Take her from behind, pin her tail against her back, go to town. All soft fur and musk. You imagine her sharp teeth nipping your neck as you drive her to climax, make her snarl.
 
Of course, that'll never happen. It's just a harmless fantasy. Just the same, you edge even closer, "shopping", and listen to the skunks talk.
 
"We didn't really need to get here two days early," the male skunk growls. He must be three times his wife's weight, at least. "But it's nice to not have to rush."
 
Sandra nods. "I'll see you at the house, honey. I know you have the pre-meeting today."
 
The male's ear flicks. He looks uncertain for a moment, as much as you can read a skunk's expression. Then he speaks. "That's right, I'd forgotten about that. Sorry about leaving you to shop, I should be going."
 
If you'd only realized the female skunk's ear has been pointed at you since you sidled closer, you'd have saved yourself a lot of trouble. Saved yourself a trip down her throat, in fact. But you didn't, and doomed yourself.
 
The enormous skunkman heads toward the parking lot and you find yourself following the female. The twitch of her tail draws you on. You've never been attracted to a nonhuman before. Not even ones on TV. You're attracted to her. When she heads to the checkout counter you are there ahead of her, when she goes out the door you're a minute in front. It can't hurt to just watch her, can it?
 
Just watching her walk turns you on. She's in a red sleeveless jacket that shows off her furry upper arms. A pink T-shirt under that exposes the curve of her breast. A short skirt below the jacket, a lighter red. You wonder if she wears panties. Sandals, lower down. Her feet are five-toed and clawed, with pink pads, just like her hands. Her tail sways as she walks. It's as big as she is.
 
It's just harmless fun, you tell yourself as you sneak around the back of the old van she's getting into. It's dark out, she probably didn't see you. It can't hurt to open the back door of the van just for a second, so you can smell the skunk musk that surely fills the thing.
 
It's a twenty year old Ford Econoline van, big enough for skunkette and skunk and other passengers, too. Right now it's just her and you, poking your nose into the back for a sniff. You yelp in surprise as a huge furry hand grabs you by the shirt and yanks you the rest of the way in.
 
Thud. Everything goes dark for a moment. When you swim back to consciousness you are in the back of the van. The huge male skunk is driving. Sitting cross-legged a couple of feet from you is Sandra.
 
"Hey," she purrs, and smiles. Her nosepad is dark pink, like her pawpads. She reaches out a foot and pokes you in the thigh, as though to make sure you're awake. You realize two things at once. One is that you're naked except for your underwear and the other is that your wrists are bound behind your back.
 
"You wanted to meet me," the skunkette purrs. Her tail flicks from side to side behind her. "Here I am." She has blue eyes. They're focused on your crotch.
 
"I didn't mean anything," you say. "I just thought you were, uh, cute. I wasn't going to -"
 
You stammer to a stop as she puts a padded hand on your belly. Claws tickle as she slides it south. You go helplessly hard in your underwear as her pawpads rub your dick through the fabric. Sandra grins.
 
"It's okay," she purrs. The van slows, turns. You haven't seen another set of car lights go by in a while. You must be outside Lancaster already. There's a lot of desert to get lost in here if you want to live away from town.
 
"You aren't the first to be interested," she purrs. Striper chuckles from the driver's seat.
 
"I'm sure you won't be the last," she purrs as she straddles you. You tug at the binding on your wrists as she leans down over you, teeth bared. All she does is lick your nose. Your cock is stiff as an iron bar against her thigh. She reaches down and her claws tear your underwear away. Suddenly there's nothing between you and her. And under that dress, she really isn't wearing panties.
 
You gasp as you slide into her. She positions herself expertly atop you and grinds her sex against your balls. Her hips twist as she takes every inch you have.
 
It's really happening. You're fucking the skunkette. You gasp as she flexes her muscles, squeezes you inside her. She's like a belly dancer, all muscle under that fur. You aren't going to last long at all at this rate.
 
"Do I have to be tied up for this? I said I was sorry." You really want to reach up under her shirt, feel those furry boobs.
 
She just grins as she bounces atop you. "Not for this," she purrs. "For what comes after."
 
You can't help it. A hundred and fifty pounds of lush-tailed skunkette is impaled atop you, twisting as she rocks back and forth. You gasp as the pleasure pulses through your loins. You didn't even last two minutes.
 
"Aw, done already?" She smiles down at you, and leans down to kiss your forehead. She stays there, studying you nose to nose.
 
"You're the seventh man who's been in this van. Seventh human that is," she flicks an ear to the big skunk in the driver's seat. "Five hitchhikers, one stalker and you. The stalker, he wanted what you wanted."
 
"I didn't mean any harm." She hasn't hurt you, far from it, but you tug at the bindings on your wrists. Whatever they are made of is too strong to break.
 
"It's okay," she purrs. "You shouldn't have come here, is all. But now that you're here, you have to stay. Just like the others."
 
You glance around. "We're the only ones here."
 
She giggles, and slides her claws down her belly. She has a healthy set of love handles, wide hips, ample breasts. There's quite a lot of meat on her bones.
 
"Some of them is here," she purrs. "Right where you will be."
 
And she leans down, gives your nose a lick, and slides her jaws over your face.
 
You stare into the jaw-cracking yawn for a moment, puzzled. You're looking right down her throat, into a purple chute of skunkette gullet. She yawned improbably wide to fit your whole head into her gape, but she can't possibly mean to -
 
But she does. There is a creak and pop as her jaws engulf your entire head, a strong push of tongue, and a wet gulp you feel through your skull as she swallows you to the shoulders.
 
Your eyes go wide in the slick darkness of her gullet as she begins to work herself still further over you. Fangs scrape your naked skin and strong padded hands grip and push you deeper. With a twist of her muzzle she gets her nose over your right shoulder and her chin over your left. Her jaws aren't wide enough for a whole man but they are high enough, and another gulp sends your upper arms slithering past her teeth into the slimy skunkette gullet.
 
Wet flesh slides past your eyes as she swallows you alive and a ripple in the surrounding muscles keeps you moving. Her upper body swells unnaturally as she makes a meal of a man who weighs more than she does. With slow, sure and confident movements she eats you whole, and you are suddenly sure she was telling the truth. Other men have been down her throat. You're just the latest person to start a trip through this skunkette's digestive tract.
 
Terrified, you kick, but there's nothing to hit but the carpeted side of the van. She rolled off you as she began to feed and she's stretched out in line with you, a third of your body down her throat already. The long fur of her lush tail strokes your side as she purrs contentedly, then reaches down to grab your hips. Another gulp, and her nose is to your navel. She flipped you over when she rolled off. You're belly down on the carpet. You can't even knee her as she swallows you alive.
 
A muscular valve opens over the top of your head and your face pops free into a looser space. Wet folds of slimy stomach wall expand to make room as your shoulders follow your head. With a serpentine wriggle of her jaws your ass is in her mouth and a warm skunkette tongue caresses your cock in the moment before it disappears forever down her throat.
 
Squirming and kicking, you try to free yourself from the grip of her jaws. Her throat has a slimy, sucking grip on your body and your arms are pinned to your sides by her cheeks. If your wrists weren't bound you'd have a chance. As it is, your only hope is that the impossibly flexible skunkette finds you too big to swallow and has to cough you back up. It's a faint hope, but it's all you have.
 
Carpet burns your knees as Sandra pushes what's left of you against the side of the van. A fang stabs you in the inner thigh as she traps your knees against the van wall and as she leans forward there's nowhere for your thighs to go but down her throat. When your knees push past her lips the slow slide of gullet over your body becomes a violent lurch. She has you almost fully swallowed and she sits up. Her padded hands cradle the vast swell of her gut as she finishes her meal.
 
With a toss of her muzzle your calves are gone. With another, your feet are in her mouth. You blink dizzily into the slimy dark as you begin to curl up inside her, too confused by the strange motion to put up any real resistance.
 
There is a playful lap of tongue against your instep. Sandra giggles, closes her jaws around your toes, and swallows. Helpless to save yourself, you slide heavily down her throat. Her stomach expands to take you in and just like that, you're wrapped in skunk fur and flesh, squeezed into the belly of a skunkette.
 
"So nice," you hear her purr. You're curled up in a ball inside her, a lump of food bigger than she is, but the walls are coated with a thick layer of slime that burns wherever it touches you. More is pooled at the bottom on her gut and the level slowly rises as big droplets of digestive enzyme trail down the walls and dribble over you to join the growing pool. The skunkette's pulse throbs through you and the stink of stomach acid fills your nostrils. Bit by bit it will consume you. Bit by bit you will become calories, and fat, and skunk shit.
 
You try to struggle. Maybe you can make her cough you back up if you raise enough of a ruckus. It's hopeless. Your arms are still tied behind you and the walls are too slick to get any sort of grip. All you do is make her sway where she sits. After a moment, exhausted, you go limp inside her. You don't want to be in her. You don't want to be the latest to add some fat to her frame. You don't get a choice in the matter. You won't get out of the skunkette the same way you got in.
 
Will anyone ever know what happened to you? It'll be days before you are missed. You walked to the market, you live alone. You didn't buy anything there, so there's no record you were there. You're sure they are smart enough to take the battery out of your cell phone. Maybe there are cameras in the parking lot?
 
It wont matter if there were, you realize. It's hard to prove a murder without a body and by the time someone wonders what happened to you, there won't be a body to find. No one's going to believe a skunkette simply swallowed you whole. You wouldn't believe it if it hadn't happened. Maybe years from now, people will work out she's a killer. That'll be small consolation to you and the other men who ended up as fat on her furry frame.
 
"But why?" With a last effort you push your forehead against the slimy, acid-coated wall of her gut. "Why me?"
 
She hears you, but she just giggles. Her strong padded hands press in, and Sandra lets out a long belch as the air that went down with you departs her stomach. There's nothing in here now but wet flesh, her stomach acids and you.
 
As you sink into the gurgling dark you already know the answer to your question. She didn't eat you because you did something wrong. She ate you simply because she could.