Cinnamon Buns
"Hello!" says the blue- and white-colored kangaroo cheerily as I invite him inside my house. We shake paws and exchange a few words of greeting, and I offer him a drink, which he accepts. I grab a can of soda from the fridge and a bag of chips for myself and bring them both into the sitting room. I place them on the coffee table and tell him to leave his shoes at the door. While he does that, I turn on the TV and flick to some cooking channel before sitting down on my favorite chair. My guest sits across from me on the couch, and I get ready for the worst.
"I made some more cinnamon buns!" he says, surprising me. He pulls a heaping tray from his bag and sets them in front of me. They steam visibly into the air, and it's obvious they were just baked. The smell of cinnamon spice quickly fills the room, and the excess of frosting drips steadily into the plate. My mouth begins to water.
"What is this?" I ask, curiously taken aback. "I thought you would be mad." I hesitate, but grab a pastry despite myself. They taste even better than the ones he made yesterday, and as I sink my teeth into the doughy sweetness I imagine that I can hear a chorus of music. They are heavenly, and I eagerly grab another.
He chuckles. "It's not every day some random fur raids my stash and eats every last one of my cinnamon buns." He grins as I blush and look down to my feet-paws.
"Well . . . You were giving them out!" I say defensively, and take another bite. "And," I continue, mouth full, "it's not like I didn't ask."
He grins again. "Maybe we got off on a shaky paw. I'm Lil' Joey," he says, extending a hand-paw to me. "Honestly, I'm just glad you enjoyed my baking. Those were homemade! And so are these. But I put a little more effort into these ones."
I relax a little. This guy seems friendly enough. Maybe he isn't upset, after all. I accept his paw-shake. "I'm Mikhowl," I say, and the tension fades.
He joins me in consuming the delicious cinnamon buns until every last one is gone and we are covered in sticky goo. We look at each other and burst out laughing. "Those were great!" I say. "I don't think I've ever tasted anything so amazing in my life! C'mon, I'll show you to the sink so we can wash up." I stand and begin to walk out of the room, but when I turn back I see him still sitting there.
"I bet I taste like cinnamon," he says, peering up at me.
I sit down again and begin licking my paws clean. "What do you mean?" I ask. I think I know exactly what he means, but I need to hear it from his mouth first. These kinds of things have to be approached very carefully, otherwise you might end up offending someone.
"I saw you join the vore group downtown the other day. I've been looking for a pred for a while, and seeing as how you're new . . ." He looks at me hopefully. "C'mon, you gotta be hungry. So how about it?"
"Well . . ." I say slowly, my stomach actually rumbling quite a bit after the delicious tease of cinnamon buns. "I was really looking to be prey. I don't do the whole pred thing often." He looks disappointed, and I quickly amend myself. "But, I am a wolf. I'm basically pred by nature. And," I lean across the table and lick his forepaws, catching him off-guard. "You're right. You do taste like cinnamon." He beams and I lick my lips. "I love cinnamon."
"Oh, I love that! Wanna be my pred now?"
I consider this, and then point across the room. "That depends. What's that over there?"
He looks. "I don't see nothin'," he say merrily.
"Yeah, that was a bluff," I laugh as I grab both paws and shove them into my mouth, eagerly lapping at the cinnamon spice still stuck to his fur. A colorful array of flavors explode in my mouth as I suck on my frosted treat. I need to have more. I draw his arms in quickly and forcefully, so hungry that I can't even bring myself to slow down, so that I can explore every inch of food with my tongue. But that's okay. That will come later when my own belly is less demanding. Without a word I push down on the kangaroo's head, lining it up with my open maw. "You'd better close your eyes," I warn as I gulp to his shoulders, but I'm not sure he can understand me, my mouth is so full. And, of course, he keeps his eyes wide open as I pull his face in and lead it to the opening of my throat. He wants to experience everything, and I can't blame him. He murrs and begins to nuzzle the soft inside of my throat. I grin.
A few more gulps bring me to his chest, which is hard and bony, no doubt due to his ribcage, and I quickly swallow past it, helping to add to my feeding frenzy but not much else. But when I reach his belly, it's the exact opposite. Soft and squishy, I finally slow my attack to a halt as I spend quite a bit of time here, reveling in the delicious comfort. I lap at the belly and press it in with my tongue. I gnaw gently on the large folds of meat between my teeth until Joey flinches. "Sorry!" I say apologetically, mouth so full that words are difficult. "I nipped you there. But your belly . . . it's just so tasty!" Now more conscientious of my actions, I run my tongue across his fur a few more times, groaning with the effort as I try to draw out as much flavor as I can, until I finally take another gulp, pulling more 'roo in my maw.
The legs are fun to consume. They are small enough for me to finally be able to speak, but large and meaty enough for me not to want to. They taste great, but I don't spend too much time on them. I am eager to get to my favorite part. "Do you mind?" I ask my captive guest, who is still murring away happily as I eat him.
"Go ahead," is his only reply, and, permission granted, I get to work.
Kangaroos are awesome animals, and one of my favorites. Everything about them is cool. Their face, posture, and the way they hop just scream cute. And how do they hop if not for those insanely large feet-paws? That's where I am now. I slowly draw my wolf tongue along the bottom of one those foot-paws, now murring myself with delight. I slide around and through the toes, and tease quite a bit before moving the appendage back to the bottom of my mouth and taking a small gulp. The paws are drawn slowly into my maw and slide right over my tongue, sending a flurry of flavors to my brain. I simply stop dead at that moment, filled with bliss. Now that I can manage to close my jaws, most of the way at least, I bring my wolf fangs to the paw-pads of his other foot and nibble on them for a while. I slurp at this one now, getting it just as slick at the first, and then just simply suck on both paws at once. I stay like this for a few minutes, until finally I get ready to swallow. I slurp up the tail that is still hanging from my lips, twitching every so often as the 'roo is treated to the ultimate massage. It joins the foot-paws and together they slide down my throat and into my gut.
As the full weight of "'Lil" Joey falls into my stomach I stagger a little, but I catch myself and sit back down on my favorite chair, rubbing my now-huge belly with an even huger grin on my face. For a while I just sit there and enjoy the rhythmic churning, ecstatic after such a great, large, and tasty meal. After a long time I finally work up the strength to ask, "How are you doing in there?"
"I love it," I hear him say, soft but distinguishable over the still-obvious sounds of pleasure.
I chuckle. "Glad you enjoy it, buddy. You could be in there for a while. I rub my belly a bit more before standing up and stretching. I yawn and stagger over to a corner, where I lie down and continue the wonderful massage of my tummy. My eyes begin to drift shut in contentment until I hear a noise.
"You can digest me now."
My eyes snap open and I grumble. I had been enjoying the company and warmth. But, of course, he is right. I can't just leave him there forever. I roll over to my side so I can get a better view of my quivering belly. "Well, I hope you're comfortable. You're in for a bumpy ride." I close my eyes again as I fell my stomach begin to work, pounding visibly as I put some extra effort into helping it. I love the feeling. I give a little burp and I blush even though there's no one else around. I hug my tummy as it massages both my meal and my face, and I let out a coo of approval as I hear more murring from inside it.
I smile, eyes still closed, as my stomach begins to contract, slowly at first, very slowly, so slowly that it's barely even noticeable. But once it begins there's no mistaking that it's doing its job properly. I stand again, and I hear the soft gurgling noise that my stomach emits. And - what was that? I rub my belly once more as I hear my new friend's confirmation that he is enjoying himself as much as I, if not more so. I ponder this for a second, and feel the slightest twinge of jealousy, but I shake it away. It's his turn today, and I shouldn't begrudge him of that.
I stagger back over to the sofa and sit. I grab my bag of chips and decide now would be as good a time as any to eat them. I reach a paw into the bag and pull out a few, promptly tossing them into my maw. Munch, munch, munch. My jaws work swiftly, pulverizing the potato slivers as my tongue soaks up the salty flavor, mixing perfectly with the flavor of the 'roo still present in my mouth. I take a few more pawfuls until the bag is completely empty, and I lick my fingertips to clean off the salty remains still coating them. I crumple the bag into a tiny ball and toss it across the room to the trash bucket. I miss, but I don't really care. I now eye the mostly-full soda can on the table. After a moment's hesitation I bring it to my lips and take a few gulps. I don't normally drink soda - I just keep a few cans around for guests. But this situation is special.
I figure the workout I'm putting Lil' Joey through must be tiring. He'll probably appreciate the cool break from the soda. When the can is empty I crush it in my fist and put it back on the table. I grab the TV remote and channel surf for a while, but I can't seem to find anything good on. I flip to the DVD player, where the movie Shrek is on pause. I decide to finish it, even though I've seen the movie a hundred times already. I click play and the film resumes. Princess Fiona is just about to get married, but the arrangement is broken, of course. Donkey flies in with his dragon girlfriend. I chuckle at the part where the dragon snaps up Lord Farquaad. My eyes begin to drift shut. I don't really care about the rest of the movie.
It ends, and I get up. It's a bit easier to move now, and I can feel the life finally drain from my guest, completing his role as food. I let out a huge belch again and taste soda and 'roo, both of which are now fueling my body. I grin lazily and don't even bother to excuse myself. I can feel the strength his nutrients provide me coursing through my veins, but I ignore it. I'm just so tired now. The effort of digesting such a large meal has me beat, and when I climb the stairs and walk into my bedroom I slump onto my bed without even changing. I yank the covers that I'm partly laying on around me, wrapping myself in a cocoon of warmth, and I fall promptly to sleep. I dream of big, fluffy, blue and white rabbits. Some are riding eagles, and the rest are hopping insanely high through a quiet, peaceful meadow. The meadow is filled with boulders shaped like cookies, and every once in a while an eagle swoops down and takes a bite out of one of them. The song "I Believe I Can Fly" is playing in the background.
I sleep great that night.
The next morning, I wake up. I'm still coiled in my warm blanket, and I'm still half-dazed with the kind of tiredness you get right when you come out of sleep. I want to fall back asleep, but the more I try the more it slips away from me. Still, I'm content to just lay there. I can hear breathing next to me and I sigh. I guess sleep just isn't something that's going to happen now. But that's okay. I'm eager to greet my new friend. I roll over and raise my pillow over my head, twisting it to look like a top hat.
"Top of the mornin' to ye!" I say drowsily, eyes still drooping, giving me a slightly demented appearance.
'Lil Joey looks back at me and laughs.