I Didn't Mean To...
#2 of Patreon Reward Vignettes
Patreon Vignette for FA: Jagkitty !
For this one Jag wanted another trip to Tris Tummy Town, and so I came up with another angle to that sort of thing.
Tris reminiscing on how he ended up being such a stereotypical cat-eating dog.
He really didn't mean to...
Contains: First Person Predator Perspective, Confessional Style, Discussion of Stereotypes, Flashback, Excessive Drool, Vocal Stomach, Pre-Vore, Suggestive Groping and Grinding, Implied Vore, Vore Tattoos and Possessive Language.
If you'd like to get in on a quick little scene like this each month, consider becoming a patron of $10 or more of my Patreon
I really didn't mean to end up like this. My name is Tristan Gregorei Hawthorne. I'm in my early 30s and am a black labrador.
I look down at the swell of my midsection and squeeze at my pudge between my thumb and fingers. I can't help but smile, feeling dear friends held so close, so safe. Buried in my warmth where no one can get to them.
Growing up, I stayed away from cats because of the stereotypes of dogs harassing felines. I didn't really have anything in common with other dogs, however. I felt like a lot of them just played into all of the clichés. Loud, opinionated, clingy, and always bragging about what they did to a cat... As a teenager I ended up gravitating towards felines and other animals that we supposedly disliked.
(figures I'm dating someone in the postal service)
It wasn't until my 20s though, that I started being a predator. A lot of my peers had started as soon as they figured out how. Half the stuff they bragged about was how many kitties they had padding their bodies.
I'm proud of that myself, now. But not the way they were. They saw their cats as conquests.
As I tug my shirt up to look at my tummy, I see the various markings standing out from my fur's natural color, each one a dear friend I'm keeping safe... They're all cats.
I really didn't mean to be a stereotypical dog pred. Really.
It's just...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jag squeezed in close to me. He's a skinny little black leopard, and one of my oldest friends. He acts like a kitten around me and calls me a stinky dog, but he's always blushing about that.
I held him tightly, pulling him into my grasp and up off his feet. I could feel my tail wagging so fast I could destroy at least a dozen vases without slowing down. The cat in my arms was almost no weight at all. After all, I've gotten used to carrying so many at a time...
The black and grey cat happily purred and squirmed a bit as my mitts grasped over the seat of his jeans. "H-hey, careful with the merchandise, mew..." He was grinding his rump into my palms as he said it though, the tease. I could feel his skinny body sinking against the softness of my belly as his muzzle ground along my chest to my throat repeatedly, in long marking motions.
It was about that time that I noticed how badly I was drooling; swallowing mouthfuls of excess saliva. Well, might as well see if he wanted in... I slowly parted my jaws and lowered my chin to the top of my sternum, letting strands of my excessive salivation trail from my teeth in the process. My tongue flopped out, oozing with even more of the stuff.
Jag nuzzled up right onto that tongue and blushed deeply. I could feel the heat from his cheeks rise as his whole body quivered. The cat mewled quietly, and he wasn't pushing me away. I couldn't quite see him directly because of my snout in the way.
I exhaled slowly, sending more strands of drool fluttering out to trail into his fur. My stomach let out a low, empty groan, resonating through the room.
"Gross smelly dog..." Jag muttered, his voice clearly a mix of flustered embarrassment and his lingering purrs. I felt his fingers press at the edges of my cheeks, squishing there.
I slowly curled my tongue around one of his wrists, squeezing with the thick muscle, closing my jaws enough to look him in the eye again but not enough to close my teeth on his hands.
The cat was having a hard time meeting my gaze, shyly muttering. "Y-you've got three cats in you, I counted alreadys." He shifted his hips against my hands again. Everything in his body language was telling me he wasn't objecting too much.
My stomach let out another insistent groan, almost sounding like "Jaaaaaaaaaargle..."
Jag pulled his free hand away, and I released the other. "T-That's no fair Trissie!" He huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. "Darn stinky tummy calling my name."
I let my tongue loll loosely again, and spread my jaws as far as I could. My throat was in easy reach. All he'd have to do is reach up and grab the back of my tongue and he'd be as good as dogfat.
My stomach called to him again.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I trail my fingers across the gathering of violet rosettes at my beltline. They match the pattern of black spots that adorn his dark grey fur. I'll let him out soon. When he's got things to do. I'm a good boy. I just...
I want them safe, all of them...
and Mine...