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Lieutenant M'ress looked down into the toilet and frowned.

There was quite a lot of what used to be Crewman Mayhew in the bowl. Digesting an entire human necessarily meant that nearly a whole human worth of mass eventually needed to come back out of her. The latest batch was perhaps ten kilograms of amorphous brown Caitian droppings speckled with white flecks. These were either small bones broken loose from their moorings to pass through her bowels or bits of larger ones broken down by her powerful stomach enzymes.

Unfortunately, the bowel movement didn't contain what she hoped would be there. She waved her tricorder over the toilet bowl again, hoping for rather than expecting a happy result. It remained silent but chirped when run over her still-fat belly. Mayhew was reduced to the larger skeletal elements occupying her stomach. The last bowel movement or two would be chalky white with mostly broken-down bones. Not the most comfortable thing to pass, but having been both the one digested and the one doing the digesting, she preferred the latter.

M'ress sighed and stepped on the pedal that 'flushed' the toilet. Like most starship conveniences it used no water and the only reason her droppings hadn't disappeared down the frictionless plumbing as fast as they emerged from beneath her tail was the floor pedal that turned on a force field at the bottom. Normally it simply prevented odors from the ship's sewer system from making their way up, but it could be turned on full power for this sort of situation. Rarely used, but occasionally needed, as now.

Batch #5 of Mayhew (by her count), poop, bone fragments and indigestible hair slithered down the drain and M'ress sat on her bed. In the privacy of her quarters she was naked, sleek and furry, though rather heavier than when she was assigned to the Enterprise. There are a lot of calories in a human or human-like creature and she'd eaten quite a few over the last couple of years.

Her tufted tail flicked irritably as she tapped a number on the bedside comm unit's screen. She was about to get yelled at, but she had to make the call.

"Mayhew," came out of the speaker.

"Randy," she purred into the comm. "Your wedding ring hasn't shown up yet. My tricorder says it's still in my stomach, so it must be caught on one of your bones. It'll show up once they digest. This time tomorrow at the latest."

M'ress flinched as a blast of profanity erupted from the speaker. Eventually Crewman Mayhew calmed down enough to ask a coherent question.

"No, Chief Kyle can't just beam it out," M'ress purred. She had the longsuffering expression of one who has heard the same question too many times. "The transporter's targeting resolution isn't that fine, or else sick bay would use it to beam-"

She grimaced as more swearing erupted from the speaker. "Well, you should have thought of that before you stuck your head in my mouth. It'll come out when it comes out."

Further argument was cut off as the comm unit's screen indicated an incoming call. It was not one she could ignore.

"Randy, the bridge is calling. We'll talk later." She cut off a last burst of profanity by tapping the screen.

"Lieutenant M'ress," she purred. The small comm unit was audio only.

"Lieutenant," came a perfectly even and dispassionate voice. "Report to briefing room two in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, Commander," M'ress purred, the call was ended from the far end. The first officer was not one to waste words. She rarely interacted with Spock but he was the first officer and if he said to report, report she would.

She pulled on her one-piece uniform smock, as usual with nothing under it, and ran a brush through her mane. She hadn't been on the bridge since yesterday morning and wasn't due back until afternoon shift tomorrow. That useful gap in her schedule had been devoted to swallowing a very willing human meal whole and in digesting it. It wasn't her fault that Crewman Mayhew forgot both that he was wearing his wedding ring and that it was his anniversary today.

As far as she knew they were still enroute to Starbase 11. It was unlikely she was to be briefed for a mission. It was more likely she was about to be yelled at for the second time this morning. Or, given that it was Spock, stared at disapprovingly.

"Sir," M'ress purred when she entered the briefing room. Spock nodded to her briefly, his attention on a computer monitor.

"Sit, Lieutenant," he said, and M'ress sat. Spock was not one to leave her hanging as either a punitive or dominance gesture. He nodded and looked up from the screen.

"Crewman Mayhew, I presume." He looked pointedly at the swelling in her middle.

"Yes, sir," M'ress purred. "He is of course fit to return to duty, he was only incapacitated until Chief Kyle-"

"I am aware," Spock said. Sure enough. Cutting her off like that meant he disapproved of her actions. He was too professional to make a personal comment, but his attitude showed through even Vulcan dispassion.

"Lieutenant, two weeks ago we left orbit of Beta Omicron Delta Three, commonly called the 'Shore Leave Planet'. As you know, many crewmen use the opportunity there to partake of dangerous activities, knowing the planet's medical systems will restore them if they are injured."

"Yes, sir," M'ress purred. She had used the planet's fantasy granting powers to, among other things, visit with a large and fierce wolverine she met some years back while on an away mission. The beast that ravished her this time was only a simulacrum, but it was a very good copy. This Ripper had even humped her into his maw just as the other would, but she'd woken up undigested after passing out in his belly. It had been a very pleasant shore leave even before she ate the lizard.

"It is not normally the ship's concern what crewman do with their shore leave time. However, we received a complaint from the planet's computers. I will quote it."

Without looking at the screen Spock intoned, "'It is understood that occasionally visitors to our planet will suffer injuries. This is why the medical systems are available. However, it is much more difficult to reconstitute visitors whose bodies are totally destroyed. In future, please restrict your predatory activities to simulacra we create for that purpose. We promise they are just as tasty as your fellow visitors'."

Spock raised one eyebrow. "From this I take it you ate someone not from this ship while on shore leave."

"Yes, sir," she purred. She did not add 'Because I presumed the medical systems would restore her' because that would be disingenuous. All she'd cared about at the time was that the green lizard alien stuck her head in M'ress's mouth. The lizard had started to struggle halfway down, but people usually did. At that point M'ress considered that the offer had been made and swallowed anyway.

"Lieutenant, as you know, your predatory activities have been tolerated since they cause no long term harm to the ship or its crew. You have largely restricted yourself to willing prey since so ordered."

M'ress considered protesting the 'largely' but Spock was already there. "And the air vent incident regarding Ensign Tavish can be excused as an accident."

An accident that ended with a burp, but still an accident. M'ress refrained from licking her chops. Having the ensign crawl out of an vent and right down her throat had been fun indeed. Ensign Tavish maintained (after Chief Kyle beamed her back into existence) that she knew exactly what was going on when it happened, but a meal is a meal.

"Normally the captain would be here for this briefing, Lieutenant, but he has heard that you now have a second way to consume a humanoid. Rather than inquire into the subject, I am here to inform you of certain decisions that have been made."

M'ress had the distinction of being the only Starfleet officer to eat her captain and maintain her commission. Twice. Kirk wasn't the womanizer the tall tales made him out to be but if he had 'inquired' into the subject of her carnivorous pussy, that might have become thrice.

"While you have strictly followed your orders on the subject, is it thought that your activities may cast Starfleet in a bad light."

"Here it comes," M'ress thought. "He is going to forbid me to eat people." She'd expected this long since. Probably only the captain's intervention had kept the order at bay this long. They could call the incidents accidents, but it remained that she couldn't have eaten him if he really struggled. Kirk probably had a powerful urge to explore her carnivorous pussy too, but he had his reputation to consider. Several other crew had explored it in his place.

"There are two options, Lieutenant. You no doubt expect an order to refrain from your recreational predation. There is an alternative. You are familiar with the Ziggurat."

"Yes, sir," she purred. The Ziggurat was an extradimensional nexus, a place between universes, or perhaps a universe of its own. From and through the Ziggurat one could visit many realities. It was there she met Yellowstripe, a great mountain of muscular kzin who among other things had fucked an alien cat-woman far enough into M'ress's pussy for her vaginal muscles to get a grip. The alien cat had dissolved in M'ress's womb, but the only part of Yellowstripe that she'd digested, on several occasions, was his semen.

"The Federation has decided that a representative should be stationed there to facilitate meetings with interested parties from other realities. As you have visited there more than any other member of Starfleet, the captain has recommended you for the position."

M'ress blinked. They weren't discharging her, or forbidding her to eat people. She'd have to leave the Enterprise, but as much as she liked serving aboard the ship, she liked the Ziggurat too. You could see a greater variety of creatures in a day there than you would in a year on a ship. A posting there would look very good on her service record and it wouldn't hurt a communications officer's career to interact with that many alien races, either.

"As a representative of the Federation you would retain your Starfleet rank and also be considered part of the diplomatic corps. Your duties may bring you back into this universe. If they do, you are under orders to eat no one. However, while in the Ziggurat, you may act at your own discretion. I understand it is an eccentric place."

"It is," M'ress purred. "I accept, sir."

At so it was a week later, after returning Crewman Mayhew's carefully cleaned wedding ring and after a going-away party where several crewmen morosely complained that they'd never gotten a chance to explore M'ress's innards the way their luckier friends had, she beamed down to Starbase 11.

She was there only briefly. Doors to the Ziggurat came and went but the Federation had requested a long term one be created on this world. It was safely far from the Federation's core worlds, unlikely though an invasion through the Ziggurat was, but close enough that delegations could travel to the starbase and thus to the doorway.

With her kit bag over her shoulder, containing one change of uniform, a few mementos and her fur brushes, M'ress stepped through the door.

There was the expected moment of disorientation, then she stood on stone flagstones in a room that might be torn from the pages of history. A map of the Ziggurat covered one wall, along with descriptions of notable businesses. Each level had a theme, bars and businesses on the first, arenas and sporting areas on the second and so on. She'd never been above the second level herself.

Waiting for her was Yellowstripe, all eight feet and six hundred pounds of mostly-orange kzin. He wore the same leather harness he wore when they last visited on the Shore Leave Planet rather than the armor he wore when he was working as a security guard here. "Madame emissary," he growled theatrically, clasping one black-leather hand across his chest and bowing. "I am here to show you to your office."

The one thing in the room that wouldn't pass muster in a medieval recreation was the massive vault door. Given the Ziggurat could shut off doorways to other realities at will, invading it was a chore. The adamantine vault door was there to make any cutoff invasion force's work that much harder. The man in the booth just had her sign the entry book, though, and then the door swung wide.

Her office turned out to be in the great open area that constituted the first level of the Ziggurat. A sprawling room filled with restaurants, bars and shops, it featured several massive, living trees that supported tree houses with yet more bars and restaurants. A balcony around the outside of the huge room at that elevation gave access to a plethora of small offices and businesses built into the walls, one of which was hers.

Her office. M'ress peeked in and smiled, admiring the view from the broad windows. She had a desk, a primitive but effective set of filing cabinets, and incongruously, a computer and wall screens. Some technology worked here and some didn't at the whim of whatever mysterious intelligence controlled the place. The staff ran it, but no one owned the Ziggurat.

"Ambassadors and representatives are considered Ziggurat employees," Yellowstripe growled. "This is to make it more difficult to create problems by assassinating one. Should you die here, you will reappear in your quarters in two or three days. Inconvenient, but less so than staying dead."

"That means I could be eaten here and come back, correct?"

"Correct," Yellowstripe growled from his head-and-shoulders height advantage. His grin showed many fangs. "Perhaps later."

This was a new option. Only Ripper had ever eaten her, back on his world, and since then she'd been predator only. No one on the Enterprise could swallow her whole and there'd never been a confluence away from the ship of "This creature can swallow me" and "I'm sure I'll come back." Not until now. There were many hungry mouths around here should she decide to play prey again.

Down at one of the restaurants she watched a ring-tailed waitress bustle about. Hazel the furry little raccoon lady had fled her world for the Ziggurat when her people discovered her predatory habits. Yellowstripe was banished from the trade ship he crewed for the same reason. There were others who ended up here to dodge their crimes. Now she was here too.

But she didn't flee here and she wasn't banished. She could go back whenever she wanted. And in the meantime...M'ress smiled down at Hazel the praka, who smiled back up at her and licked her chops. Hazel was only four feet tall, but if M'ress decided to feed someone, down there was a little raccoon who would happily take her up on the offer.

Yellowstripe, it turned out, had been assigned to be her escort for the entire day. He showed her the quarters assigned to her, larger than her Enterprise berth and just as much a mixture of stony-walled primitivism and technology.

She christened her quarters by climbing into Yellowstripe's lap and impaling herself on the oddly ridged kzinti cock that emerged from his fur. She'd been in his lap before and he knew the sucking qualities of her sex. The more excited she got the more her pussy tried to devour him cock first.

He was far too large for her to eat but the opposite was not true. He was always a perfect gentleman during this previous visits, but this time as his naked pink tail flicked back and forth behind him he yawned. M'ress peered past a forest of sharp carnivore teeth into the slick purple depths of his gullet and smiled when his jaws came down atop her.

He could swallow her whole, easily, and digest enough of her to go to work the next day with hardly a bulge to show for it. For a little while, it seemed he would. He worked his fangs carefully over her shoulders, then with a simple push of his muzzle he engulfed her to the hips. With her arms trapped by his jaws there was no way to resist. He could lift his muzzle and swallow her down with a few tosses of his head.

But he didn't. The act of being eaten aroused M'ress and she rocked her hips into the kzin's thrusts until they both came at the same moment. Her predatory sex did its very best to swallow him, but he was too big and too awkwardly positioned. All it succeeded in doing was milking semen out of the kzin. Deep inside her, spurting cum was sucked into her womb for digestion. No worries about half-breed kzin/caitian kittens for her, not when semen dissolved as easily as anything else inside her. She'd have to have that reversed if she ever decided to have children.

Yellowstripe growled as he came, and M'ress squirmed and moaned in his gullet. Her nose was against the fleshy sphincter that separated his throat from his stomach, but she'd not see the far side of it today. Yellowstripe growled, bucked on the bed as he filled her with his seed, and only then pulled back.

M'ress emerged from his gullet slick with a thick layer of slime that would have lubed her up for easy swallowing if he'd decided to finish his meal. He was four times her size and could overpower and swallow her at any time he chose. He never did, even though this time she would have survived.

"Always the gentleman," M'ress purred. Yellowstripe grinned and licked some of the slime off her breasts. That just replaced it with saliva and she pointed to the bathroom.

The shower in her quarters was big enough for two, even when one is a six hundred pound kzin, and they set about washing each other while the water rained down from above.

One thing led to another and she found herself braced against the wall by her hands as Yellowstripe fucked her. He bent her over and mounted her, but he still washed her furry back with a soapy sponge as he did. M'ress yowled at him, Yellowstripe snarled and gave her carnivorous pussy more kzin cum to digest.

When she was washed of kzinti drool and throat slime and didn't stink of sex either, as his cum was deep inside her and already digesting, she put her uniform smock back on. With a heroic effort of will they didn't immediately dirty themselves back up with a third bout of sex and instead headed to the central area.

The variety of creatures here was staggering. There was no main body type. Bipeds were common, but so were ferals, creatures with six or more legs or none at all. An enormous spider with shiny black legs and a black skull on its yellow abdomen hung in a web between two of the trees, plucking the strands like harp strings to produce an eerie tune. Several man-sized bundles of silk suggested it didn't react well to intruders in its web, but few paid it any attention at all other than to applaud the music.

They made their way to the section of the room catering to humanoids and sat at a booth. At the next table was a mismatched group of what she assumed were Klingons from alternate realities. Some Klingons back home had brow ridges and some didn't, but the members of this group had styles of ridges unlike any she'd seen and were dressed in much more colorful armored uniforms than the norm. One was some sort of anthropomorphic horse but still spotted barbaric Klingon garb.

M'ress watched as a massive feral tiger padded past their table in the direction of the chairless section reserved for non-humanoids. Riding on the tiger's back was a ratman in black shorts and a T-shirt advertising a vaguely familiar vintage rock band.

The tiger wore only the saddle and a harness to hold it on and M'ress couldn't help but notice the furry scrotum beneath its tail. The tiger's genitals were small compared to its body size but it was also six feet tall at the shoulder. As a result it was probably at least as well hung as Yellowstripe. As she considered the possibilities it padded over to a six-legged green weasel thing larger than most normal tigers and they rubbed heads.

"Savage," Yellowstripe growled, his voice lowered so the big cat wouldn't hear. "And his friend Ratbat. Savage is the only one like him on his home world, so he's struck up a friendship with Shrilka and visits her periodically. They are too different for children to result, which may be good considering how much they fuck."

The ratman slid off the tiger's back and stretched. Leaving the two ferals to their own devices he looked around and then disappeared into the crowd.

"Ratbat on the other hand loves to be eaten. Sometimes he fights in the arena in various costumes. He is very skilled, but accepts the role of victim if his opponent can swallow him whole. The audience loves that and he is a nicely wriggly meal." Yellowstripe smiled a sharp-fanged grin and licked his chops.

"You've eaten him, then," M'ress purred.

"Oh yes," the kzin growled. "I have a sometimes gig in the arena, also in costume. I usually play the role of Blackfur, a famous animal gladiator from before my time. The audience assumes I'm one of the beast's sons. I am not the only one to play the role, but I do it most of the time these days."

M'ress had lost sight of Ratbat but Yellowstripe could see she was looking for him. "He has a unique way of reforming that doesn't rely on the Ziggurat. He simply regenerates back from shit. If you eat him, and he will happily let you, shit in a vessel until he reforms. It may take several tries before there is enough of him for it to happen. Do not use the toilets here if you eat him. Anything left in them disappears, we know not where to, and he may be gone forever if you do that. He has several forms of different sizes if you want a smaller meal, as he is a shape changer."

M'ress nodded and put 'Eat the rat' on her to-do list.

They watched a pair of moth people flutter between tree houses, just avoiding the web and watched alertly by the predatory giant spider. When they failed to become stuck it went back to plucking the strings.

"I've visited, obviously," M'ress purred, "But it'll take some getting used to, living here."

They watched something she could only describe as a centipede dragon scuttle by, headed for the feral section.

"Behir," Yellowstripe growled. "I don't know that one's name. Capable of swallowing people whole. Savage can too, and does when he fights in the arena, but he is a busy cat most days. Back home he is lonely. Here, there is always someone anxious to visit with a two-ton tiger."

"What about you, big scary," M'ress purred. She heard Hazel call him that once.

"When I first got here, no," Yellowstripe growled. "Kzinti females are non-sapient and I wasn't high enough rank to be given one. I fucked and ate many prostitutes at spaceports but the first attempt I made to force myself on a woman here got me eaten."

M'ress nodded. She'd heard that story. Yellowstripe underestimated one of the senior guards and was promptly overpowered and swallowed. The only reason he survived was that unknown to him, his contract was sold to the Ziggurat. As an employee he reformed after a time.

"Then there was Hazel, who took pity on clumsy idiot me," he said with a grin, "And a couple of people I fucked in the arena. Once I got my confidence back and learned not to be an utter idiot about it all, things got better. These days," he gestured at the room and its bewildering assortment of creatures, "There's usually someone interested if I am in the mood."

M'ress nodded. "You are handsome and strong and out in public view most of the time. I'd be surprised if you didn't get offers."

"It helps to not be married to the idea of only fucking your own species," he growled. "But you know that. Not many kzinti visit here, and not one female that I know of. We do get the occasional caitian."

"You've gotten an occasional caitian," she purred, and he grinned. "Though not eaten one yet."

"Not yet," he growled. "There would have to be a gap in her schedule, or she'd have to do something very bad. Hopefully it will be the former and not the latter."

A tall scaly lizard-creature in Ziggurat guard armor gestured to Yellowstripe before she could answer. "I wasn't supposed to be bothered today, but I should see what's up," the kzin growled. "I'll be back when I can."

As Yellowstripe padded away someone stood up from a nearby table and approached hers. It was a sleek, black furred cat-woman about her height. She lacked a mane and her tail was a furry cylinder, not a tufted lion tail, so she wasn't a caitian. Not one from M'ress's reality anyway. The black cat gestured at the seat next to hers and M'ress nodded.

"Selia," the cat purred as she sat. "I'm new to the Ziggurat and you're the closest thing to my species I've seen."

"M'ress," M'ress purred. "My species is called caitian."

"I'm a hestan," the black cat purred. "Visiting as part of a trade delegation." She pointed a few tables down and M'ress saw a couple of huge furry creatures like bears with bear-humanoid torsos attached their their necks should go. Beartaurs, she supposed she'd call them.

"They are called mwee," the black cat purred. One of the bears was very obviously female and the other, lacking a great swell of breasts, was presumably male. They lay with their feral halves belly down on the floor and any male bits were out of sight. "I'm an employee of theirs. It's useful to have a humanoid around sometimes, they say, as not everyone is comfortable with their appearance."

"I'm sort of new here myself," M'ress purred. "I've visited, but now I am stationed here. I have my own office and everything."

"Really," the black cat purred. "Why don't you show me?"

M'ress wasn't sure where this was going but she had an idea as to where she wanted the black cat to go, and that was better done in privacy. She nodded and stood. Yellowstripe could find her later. Hopefully he would find her with a great bulge in her middle and the taste of hestan on her burps.

"I saw you with the naked-tailed tiger man," purred Selia as they walked. "He's handsome."

"He's named Yellowstripe, and is a kzinti," M'ress replied.

"Hur'an mia urwan," purred the hestan. "'Lovers have only one scent'."

M'ress flicked an ear. The shower hadn't done as thorough a job as she'd hoped. "Yes," she purred. "There are unusual scents on your fur as well."

Selia smiled a sharp-fanged grin. They climbed one of the stairs built into a great drooping tree branch to the tree houses, paused to buy drinks at a kiosk, then used another branch to reach the broad balcony that encircled the great common area.

"Are you a Ziggurat employee?" Selia said from behind her.

"Yes," M'ress purred. She waved her hand in front of the door to her office and it unlocked. "I'm still settling in. My duties don't start for a few days."

"Good," purred the hestan, and tackled her from behind. They hit the floor in a tangle of limbs and Selia's tail wrapped around her own like a constricting serpent. The hestan was muscular under her fur but so was M'ress. Both had formidable claws sheathed in their padded toes, smaller but still sharp ones on their fingers and lethal fangs, but neither of them used any of their natural weapons. It was just muscle and skill.

M'ress looked up in the midst of the struggle to see Selia yawn. The hestan's jaws creaked unnaturally wide and it was luck more than anything else that kept M'ress out of her opponent's stomach. M'ress managed to free one arm and slammed her forearm up under Selia's chin. The hestan's muzzle snapped shut and before Selia could recover her head was in M'ress's mouth.

M'ress swallowed and despite Selia's efforts to pull free she felt the hestans muzzle slip down into her throat. M'ress ducked her head and there was nowhere for Selia's neck to go but into her maw.

It should have been a terrific struggle to get the well-muscled cat down. It should in fact have been horrendously dangerous as faced with a slimy digestive doom her opponent's many claws should have come out. M'ress had up until now swallowed only prey with no natural weapons, unless you counted the blunt lizard claws that showed up along with green scales in her droppings after one particular meal. Selia's weren't blunt at all but when M'ress began to work her jaws over her opponent's shoulders the hestan relaxed. Even the strong prehensile tail released its grip on her own.

She wasn't sure what was going on. Maybe the hestan didn't get a proper breath before her head was swallowed. M'ress didn't much care as to the origin of the situation she found herself in. She only cared that here was a meal waiting to be swallowed. That is exactly what she did. Once her jaws were past Selia's shoulders she rapidly worked her way over the cat, swallowing her to the hips in moments.

With a great effort she sat up, gripping the cheeks of Selia's ass and shoving them into her maw. As she did that she felt the cat squirm. A hand protruding from her jaws slipped between the cat's thighs and Selia fingered herself as M'ress swallowed her down. With a heave of her muzzle and a massive gulp M'ress swallowed her opponent's hips and hestan legs and swaying tail grew slowly shorter as Selia slid into M'ress's waiting stomach.

Selia squirmed deeper, helping M'ress eat her, and the caitian was not reluctant to take her up on the offer. With another heaving gulp there was nothing left but a set of black-furred feet, pink pawpads and a foot or so of furry tail. With a snap of her jaws all that remained was that tail and M'ress swallowed. Inch by inch the tail slipped into the corner of her mouth and her her middle bulged grotesquely as at least her weight in hestan slithered into her stomach.

With a last gulp she felt her throat shrink back to its usual diameter and M'ress sat back, padded hands wrapped around her swollen belly. She felt the hestan move and was certain Selia was still fingering herself. Well, she could do what she liked. M'ress had known what she wanted from the moment she saw the black cat and sure enough, the long belch that bubbled up out of her tasted like hestan.

Yellowstripe found her there half an hour later, still sitting against the wall with a smug self-satisfied smile on her face. Another burp was forced out when he picked her up and carried her to her quarters. Even stuffed full of hestan she weighed less than half what the kzinti did and he carried her the hundred yards to her room without difficulty. She waved her hand to unlock the door and he plopped her down on her bed.

"That was quick," he growled. "You only just got here and you've had a meal."

"Sure enough," M'ress purred. She stroked her swollen belly, which had stopped squirming some time ago.

"Not everyone reforms here," Yellowstripe began, but she'd gathered that from their conversation earlier and anticipated the complaint.

"She tried to eat me the moment we were alone," M'ress purred. "If you hadn't found her in my stomach, you would have found me in hers."

"Hmm," the kzin pondered. "Describe her."

"Black anthro cat, about my size, no clothes, furry tail without a tuft like mine has."

Yellowstripe nodded. "She's with the beartaurs, the mwee I think they are called. I'm told they have been here before but it's the first time I've seen them. They are very much into eating people. Apparently their followers are too."

M'ress rubbed her fat belly, which chose that moment to let out a long digestive gurgle. "And from how she behaved, into being eaten too. She stopped struggling once I had the drop on her and let me swallow her."

"This, too, shall pass," Yellowstripe grinned. "Now we just have to hope they have a way to bring her back. Not because you'd be in trouble if she doesn't, but because she sounds like fun."

It was just as well that M'ress's official duties weren't due to start for several days. It took a whole day to digest and pass enough of Selia that she didn't waddle when she walked. A day after that, she had new love handles and just a bit of a belly bulge. She was in that state when Selia ambushed her in her office.

"Not in my office, please," M'ress purred, but her face was already in the hestan's mouth.

"Sowwy," Selia purred back, but that didn't stop her from swallowing M'ress's head.

Maybe Selia went easy on her last time. Maybe she just underestimated M'ress and took the loss when her head was swallowed. Whatever happened last time, she pinned M'ress's limbs, wrapped her tail around the caitian's to keep it from lashing her thigh, and set about working her jaws over M'ress's shoulders.

M'ress would much rather have a second meal of hestan but she knew what the deal was here. As a snakelike wriggle of Selia's muzzle engulfed her upper arms she stopped fighting. Her arms were nearly pinned and the only way she could do real damage would be to unsheathe her sharp toe-claws and start kicking. She wasn't sure even that would be enough and Selia had gone down her throat willingly when the circumstances were reversed.

Selia swallowed and M'ress's face emerged into slimy folds of hestan stomach. She'd had her meal last time and now it was Selia's turn. M'ress was about to find out how employee reformation worked at he ziggurat.

With a series of heaving gulps Selia swallowed her down and as she arrived in the waiting stomach M'ress found the hestan had wrapped her legs, arms and even her tail around the bulge. She could struggle until the air ran out, was the message. She still wasn't getting out of Selia's body until the hestan's digestive system was done with her. It was clear now that Selia was a more experienced predator than she was.

Her tufted tail tip still hung out of the hestan's jaws. It was the only part of her she could move and when she twitched it Selia let out a purring chuckle. She had her meal dead to rights and M'ress would soon take the same trip through Selia's bowels that Selia had through hers.

Selia let out a long, smug sounding belch and M'ress didn't even bother to squirm as the acids came tricking in. "This, too, shall pass," she purred, and accepted her fate.