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"I'll give you six hundred dollars to spend the night in my room and let me do whatever I want to you." He stopped in his tracks, astonished by the words in his ears and the hand on his side. My eye glinted in a mockery of playfulness as I looked up at him. "I promise, I won't hurt you."

College was not a pleasant time for me, but before I get into why, let's define "me" for those who haven't read about me before: I am a largely unimpressive, ultramarine, dragon-winged, anthropomorphic wolf. I almost have definable muscles, but they don't bulge and are hardly noticeable; I'm unabashedly academic and rational, but my social skills are found severely lacking; I learned during high school more about magic than many learn in their lives. So there you go.

The first year of college was not, anyway, pleasant, and so the second carried over with it some of the first, especially because the first few weeks of every year were going to hurt. It would hurt me like I had never felt before, because each new year was one more year with Glen no longer in my life.

We didn't know what happened. At least, I didn't, and I couldn't speak for him. He was trapped on the other side of the mirrors. Occasionally, we wouldn't see one another for weeks at a time, regardless of trying every night, at the same time, to meet. Even then, the audio channels I tried to open collapsed; his unfortunately ignorant attempts to make his own blew away in an ether wind; all we had was sight, and usually not even that. Some days, that was enough. But on days when I had gone six weeks without either seeing him or submitting to a mad rage... nothing was enough.

Classes in college were as easy for me as the majority of classes before college had been, as long as I concentrated. It was harder to do that, but if I could pull it off, A's came as easily as they always had, floating by on a river of academic life while I tried my best to construct a social one from the tattered remnants of my will to socialize. Teva understood me, and she helped, when she could, but she was just an image and a voice on video-chats, attending the International University at Bremen while I sat in North Carolina and rotted. And similarly, she and Teva just didn't have the same relationship Siber and I had. They were more like... twin sisters out for one another's blood or nectar, whichever seemed more appropriate at the time. I couldn't understand them or Jason and Raiden and niether could any of us understand the relationships the others had. As good friends as we are and were, our relationships among one another were personal, individual, and unique things.

I did have a social life. Joined the band and a small choral ensemble, tried to associate with my hallmates. My roommate was a guy who shared my sense of humor and little else. He was pretty outgoing, had to work for every grade he got, and had a posse of girls he refused to believe would date him at the drop of a hat. As in, were I to drop a hat while they were near him, he would quickly be smothered in kisses and boobs. Luckily for him, I was not a hat-wearing kind of guy.

But enough of this silliness. Voxis had gone to a different school, as had Todd, but this guy I had stopped in the hall with my desperate offer seemed a pretty close match, at least in appearance. A husky over seven feet tall with classic coloring, biceps that looked as though they needed to be used as torpedos, legs made absolutely of steel and carved like a study of ultimate physiology, waxen abs seen briefly one day as he played ultimate frisbee with other jocks, and as far as I could tell, the morals of a quadrupedal rat and brain of a sea slug. It wasn't as though I hung out with his crew, though, so somewhere in the back of my head, I hoped I had judged his mentality wrong.

Not only all this, but I knew a hyperphallic when I saw one. Todd's unique magical signature had taught me enough of that, especially during our first sexual encounter and then later when he would wrap me in a crushing bear hug right after bringing himself almost to climax so I got his seed pumped through my fur. I swear, he spent a decent quarter of the time I was in his presence reminding me that we were intimately, intimately connected and he was forever in my debt. Normally, I would not connect infusing my coat with cum with that kind of thought process, but Todd had told me one day that he wanted to cover me with as much of him as he could, so no one ever tried anything funny with me. It was sweet... in its own, weirdly possessive way. I used what little cleansing magic I knew to get the scent off me as soon as I could and tried to convince him to act otherwise, but he would have none of it, actually holding me down while in full Thought form once and absolutely drenching me, head to toe, in his cum. That, actually... was kind of nice, and I was so hard by the time he actually hit climax that I managed to hit my own before his was over. Granted, in that form, his orgasms can last between two and ten minutes, but it was still amazing to me that he was still deep in the throes of his, not even beginning to peter out, while I was panting and trying not to breathe his semen after my own hand job.

Back to the story, though. I needed release, and there was nowhere to find it. Physical release had resulted in cuts in my skin almost too near visible parts of me, and I didn't trust myself not to get careless with the knives one day. Emotional release was not an option because no one but Glen could ever truly empathize with me or have me explain the problem without thinking I was mentally ill. I wasn't in any athletic groups, I didn't work out, and video games really are not a valid form of stress relief. So I wanted sex. Really badly. And I felt like I could probably get it from this guy.

He looked down at me, his tremendous frame making my lean one look like it was made of twigs. "Are you serious?" he asked suspiciously. I had chosen a section of the outside air where we wouldn't necessarily be seen. The shadow of the math building and the stark angles of the art building hid us pretty well. He was on his way to lunch, and I had been lucky to snag him here, but it wasn't as though I hadn't tried before.

I smiled to myself. "There's the first hundred under my hand. I'll give you two more when you show up, and the last three when I'm done."

I took my hand off his chest as he finally turned to face me. He caught the bill and checked it quickly in the sun before walking back with it in his pocket. "Nothing kinky?" He didn't argue about the price tag. It must have actually been reasonable.

"I won't be lighting candles and wearing bondage, if that's what you mean. This is one man asking another man for debtless sexual gratification because I don't feel comfortable doing this with a girl."

"Hit up my room, instead," he said, his bass voice rumbling out of his enormous chest. "611 Greaves' Hall. Ten o'clock tonight, my roommate will be in his girl's room. We got 'til five, and I have a special-order bed so I can fit in it."

I cocked my head and considered it. I didn't want to be in a room that smelled like old jock straps, but I had enough organic chemistry knowledge and basic magic technique to fix that. I also didn't want to be surrounded by football regalia. However, it sounded like this guy knew better where his roommate would be and at what times than I did about mine - Jared went wherever he pleased, whenever he pleased. I just knew he wasn't planning on being back that night and was prepared to use whatever magical means necessary to keep myself hidden.

"Sounds good," I said suddenly. "Just... realize that I'm not the most stable person. As big as you are, screwing with me would be a pretty bad idea." I said it lightly, but I know he knew what I meant.

He smirked. "Agreeing to screw with you just got me six hundred dollars. I'll be there, and no one else will until you are." I looked at him. "And then it'll be just you, I mean."

I nodded with a wry smile and started to walk away. Suddenly, he called out.

"You, wait up! What's your name?"

I winced, glad my back was turned. If I told him, he could turn out like Rajah. Watching me. Idolizing me, for whatever misguided, though appreciated, reasons. I didn't want this to be some acolyte serving his "leader" and I didn't want to know his name at all, frankly. I'd create an attachment with him. But, no I had to know if he knew about me,. Tonight would make me sick if I found out during it that he thought I was a god. "My name's Sibra."

"Sibra? From EGHS?"

Dammit! "What do you know me from?" I asked, pivoting on one foot to face him again, a little unsteady and nervous.

He scratched his head. "You were saludatorian, or something. I just overheard the name from another student. Your high school made a lotta smart kids."

"Heh. Yeah." I smiled a fake smile and left him standing there, satisfied that he didn't really know who I was. The rest of the day passed in eager, but somehow calm, anticipation. Ten hours later, I was knocking at his door with five hundred dollars in my pocket. The money was... well. I was prioritizing this.

He answered by opening the door and standing in it, with very little expression on his face. For some reason, I wasn't nervous. I had expected to be fraught with worry the whole day through, but nothing came. I stood there, waiting for him to invite me in and pulling the two bills from my wallet. He took them, but still didn't move.

All of a sudden, he seemed to break down, as though he had been having a contest with me. He sighed and leaned a massive hand on the doorframe. "My name is Faris," he said deliberately, holding my gaze.

I met it witheringly, my eyebrows raised. "Hello, Faris," I returned. "I don't want to remember your name. May I come in your room?"

For a moment longer, he hesitated while I looked him hard in the eyes, still disconcerted by the angle at which I had to turn that gaze. He pulled away and towards the middle of the room. It wasn't a pretty place. Scrap paper was everywhere from the easy homework assigned the jocks, Van Halen and Metallica and Led Zeppelin CDs littered the room, and the smell of stale body odor permeated everything. With a fluttering of my wings and a slight motion of my hands, at least that latter was gone. Other than those, it appeared he had tried to clean up. His bed was made and his half of the room had no loose clothes hanging around. I was impressed. For whatever reason, he wanted us to experience some modicum of comfort.

I was planning on experiencing all kinds of modicums.

"I should warn you..." he started, his face appropriately grimacing to give me all sorts of indications of what he was about to "reveal." I started picking up papers, my slight neat-freak tendencies butting in the way of getting to the point.

"I know," I interrupted, still working. "You have a thing between two and three feet long and shoot gallons when you bust it. I knew someone like you before."

"There are that many other hypers out there?" he asked, eyes wide.

"No. I just happened to meet one, and I know what the signature looks like. Don't look so surprised. I believe in equal intelligences. You can stop a four by four truck in its tracks, from the looks of those cannonballs sewn into your shoulders, and could probably do it given a second's warning." A smile lit one half of his face as he tried to hold in his suddenly inflated ego. "I can sense magic as easily as I can smell. You get it from your mom's side, then?" Magical inheritance of that trait tended to be carried with the mitochondria, something sperm don't have, just to throw a little fact out there. Physical inheritance, which was much rarer, would come from the father on the Y chromosome. Because his package wasn't ripping his pants off and he wasn't doing anything active to make an illusion, it had to be concealed by innate magic.

He nodded, then shook his head in amazement. "Damn, you know a lot."

"I try." God, I was an ass back then. Once I had things a little bit neater, I looked at him again, blankly. "I don't know how to start this. I've thought about it a few times, because I know I asked you to just let me do what I wanted, but the last thing I want is for my attempt to let off some steam to start and end awkwardly."

He smiled. "I think I can fix that." I let him approach me, and then before I could think, he had taken most of my weight off the ground and pulled me into a full-bodied kiss, his huge arms crossing gently down my back as he held me and then, again without warning and completely unexpectedly, he bent me over his arm like a woman and I knew, by the confidant strength in his arms, that he could probably hold me like that for hours and I wouldn't have to make any effort to stay like I was. I was weightless.

I started giving back, after the first few seconds, contributing my broader knowledge to his better application. The hot breath shooting out of his nostrils onto my face smelled like hamburgers and french fries and... salad dressing? Maybe not. I wasn't focused on the breath coming out his nose, though. It was the breath heaving through his tremendous lungs as it felt like he was trying to eat me without opening his mouth any further, making his tremendous chest press against me and pull away like a slow, steady bellows, like a train just starting to go, like a roc's wings, beating volumes of air to make oxen jealous. My fingers wandered up to behind his ears and scritched the back of his neck, making him inhale sharply and take the breath out of my lungs, the sharp burn revitalizing in how he immediately sucked air through his nose and blew it into me, afraid he had hurt me. For a gigolo, he was sweet. Which was a difficult thought to think as my boner pressed into his belly button, getting more friction from his abs than I would have from any woman I could have plowed in the city.

I smiled around his lips from his reaction and laid my arms delicately on his form as he held me there, moving my hands down to massage his bulging shoulders, the great slabs of meat sliding around beneath his skin as he dipped me deeper to let my fingers feel it, making me harder, if it was at all possible this point, especially when I felt the first stirrings from his package begin to push against my thighs. It was hot between us and I felt my clothes imprisoning me and knew his pants were imprisoning something I wanted to see unleashed, but not yet. I pushed back up against him, hard, and thrust my tongue combatively through the barrier of his teeth to begin battling behind locked lips, and revelled in the feel as he complied willingly and fought back, easily shoving my tongue out of the way and licking at the back of my throat, the effort not even a challenge for him. I think I liked it that way.

Just as he had done to me, I gave him no warning when I gripped him still more tightly, my obvious hard-on pressing insistently through my jeans and against him, even now sending sharp jolts of sheer need through my body as it rubbed up against his abs. I got a wonderful feeling of satisfaction to feel that massive bulge in his pants pumping against my groin and now holding up the crook of my legs, shoving against my buttcheeks as I wrapped my legs around his hips and thighs, putting my whole weight on him, and all he did was shift where his hands were while I renewed the pressure of my lips on his and continued to fight that happily hopeless battle with his tongue, basking in the warmth of his arms and the comfort of his bulk.

I finally let go of the initial kiss with a gasp and licked needily at his muzzle and ear, my breathing hot and heavy as I let myself sink into a lust-driven frame of mind, just wanting to feel more and more of him, touch more of his body, crawl over and under him and let him take me, take him hard, then kissed eyelids and bit elsewhere, ear tips to make them twitch, shoulder, neck, chin, chest, while he was caught in the heat of it and crushed me against him, sounding like he was loving it when I pinched too hard even though he clenched his teeth and groaned and hot, damp air rushed though his body at gale force as he growled and began tasting my neck and cheek, tearing off my shirt and licking from my abs to my nipples, slowly so I could feel his craving across my throat before soaking my muzzle and face and ears and I let him, and he bit posessively into my neck, not drawing blood, and I let him and moaned like a little girl while he did, clenching against him in my aching need so I could feel the steel of his perfect muscles across the whole of my body, pushing, thrusting, and heat driving me mad...

Ten minutes later, I leaned back fully in his grip, panting like I had run a mile, and quietly asked that he put me down. Looking at the twin stains on the fronts of our pants, I said, somewhat out of breath, "Well, I suppose by now there's no point in keeping our clothes on anymore. Let's unleash that fearsome beast of yours." He had a hungry look in his eyes, but there was something else there as I met them. He felt like he knew something, but I didn't know what it was. It didn't matter. It didn't even matter what his name was.

I looked at my shirt, in tatters on the floor, and used it as an excuse to turn around and strip my pants and underwear off, my throbbing erection slapping against my belly as I tore the constricting garments off and turned around to look at my prize, my purchase.

He hadn't moved, and didn't even glance below my waist. He was just standing there with his teeth bared and his fur bristling. I didn't respond to my primal instinct to bare my throat to his obvious dominance. Instead, I demanded, "What are you waiting for?"

His answer was swift, and hot, and heavy. "You didn't ask me to do anything."

I raised an eyebrow at him for the second time that night, my naturally cool frame of mind threatening to defuse the situation if I didn't fix it. "I didn't ask you to kiss me, either."

"You asked me to help you start things off."

That was when it really dawned on me. I had treated him this way since I gave him the first hundred dollars, but hadn't fully grasped it. He was mine. I had bought him, and he was mine, and that thought burned in my mind, feuling my libido like a bellows. I didn't want to get into it, and instead let air and yearning slip into my voice as I told him, "Well, let me help you with those clothes, then." With an unnatural focus on his groin, I swayed over to him and pressed one hand into his chest while the other slipped behind him, around his hard flanks, and traced the edge of his pants before falling into them and squeezing a chiseled buttocks, making him grunt willingly and thrust against me, almost knocking me down. Slowly, meanly, I lifted the thin cotton up, pushing my still-cold nose under his bare bellybutton and getting twitches from him as I traced through the thin chest fur over pecs like an Olympian hero and eventually managed, with his help, to discard the garment, now chest-to-chest without anything in the way, and I took in a shuddering breath before dropping to my knees.

My head was not quite up to his crotch, so I knew when I let him loose, those balls were going to... I shuddered in anticipation, knowing this went against my nature, knowing it was not how I should act, knowing anyone I knew would be ashamed of me, but I didn't care in the least, not at that moment. I reached for the buckle and undid it slowly, watching the now-unreal bulge behind it as it pumped with his heartbeat, waiting for release. Then, breathing shallowly while he tried to breathe deeply above me, I pushed my lips against the stain that had begun to form and softly licked it up, the barest of excitement getting through the thick denim to him while he watched. I unzipped his fly, my eyes riveted on the bulge that lay beneath, now concealed behind straining, wet, shining, black fabric. I worked my hands down over his hips, loosening the pants just barely so I could get it all at once, and was so focused on my prize I didn't notice his hand come down and shove my muzzle against the incredible mass in front of me.

He rolled my face it it while he moaned, and I could feel the member and the sticky precum that had soaked its abode seeping into my fur, and he ground his hips against me, so I let out a little sigh of need and surprise at once and he let me go so I could back off and begin slowly licking up the feast that was there, salty, pungent sweat from the day mixing with the equally salty musk that poured through my system and made me want more, so much more of him, my naked member dripping precum and a knot seconds from forming with nowhere for it to go. He groaned in pleasure as I bit lightly, teasing every part of him I could and swallowing loudly, breathily, to let him know what was coming. By the time I was done, the fabric was ripping and the flesh beneath rock-hard, more fun to nuzzle and lick now that I knew it more intimately and could make him shudder and moan, this power from my submission, this ownership, more arousing than I had expected. I grinned into his crotch as he held his hips low and bent over me to give me what he could until I held my hands at his hips and tore downwards, stripping off what was left with ease.

The package rolled out, the inborn magic letting it show in full, now. Testicles in a sack the size of a basketball, perfectly rounded, swayed against my face, covered in downy, lovely fur that I gladly buried my nose in while his cock, two and a half feet long, at first draped heavily over one shoulder and down my back before the claws I dug into his thighs and my hungry tongue on his balls and my nipping teeth on his skin raised it higher, higher, its tremendous length halting not far above perpendicular.

I eventually looked up from my ministrations, as content as I would have been to hear him moan as I slurped at him back over and over again for the rest of the night, and saw his teeth clenched while his member still bobbed up and down on my headfur, that weight sending shivers down my spine. The stimulation must have been excruciating for him, and the thought of his painful pleasure made me grin fiendishly. I stood up and propelled him back to the bed with a commanding palm on his chest. He didn't look at me, but complied quiescently and got on his back while I crawled between his thighs and flopped that tremendous member onto his chest, only now noticing the matching nipple rings and the fact that unlike most dogs, his pumping erection was a majestic, undeniable black.

"Got some odd coloring going on," I whispered, lowering myself down so my hands were on his chest and my knees between his, my face at the base of his cock and my tongue hanging out to touch down on the tip of his sheath, from which I licked, my nose preceding my tongue, up the entirety of the thirty inches to the glob of precum on his tip. I rolled the salty taste on my tongue and swallowed loudly, shivering. On the way back down, I lapped back and forth along the half-foot diameter and I massaged my hands heavily in his tremendous sack, loving the heat that radiated away from them and was making me start to sweat as he clenched and strained and moaned for me, my little dog letting me think I had him under my spell.

"The ladies... nnhf... seem to like it," he growled out, the deep rumble making his whole body vibrate. Immediately attracted to that, I bodyslammed down on the granite muscles he reflexively hardened in his chest, straddling the thick member as it slicked my chest with its juices and vibrating, hesitating, breathing cold air as some sort of trepidation shot through my skull, sudden fear, shame, and undeniable relief making me clench my whole body momentarily against his chest so when I started licking desperately at his nipples, toying with the rings in my mouth, biting down as he moaned, it was an act of anxious, gut-wrenching desire and I didn't really notice when he took a few seconds to cut the act and watch me, really watch me, wondering what had caused this kind of need in me.

"The ladies know what to like," I told him shakily, then pulled at one of the rings with my teeth to make him growl again and feel the quick tremors massage me into a stupor. I shuddered pleasurably as the vibrations washed through me, and getting an idea, pulled forward and put all my weight on one hand, using the other one to squeeze his natural lubrication out of him and soak my package in it. Smiling slyly at him while he looked on in wonder, I lowered my self down onto his rock-hard hard-on and slid down it, precum mixed with saliva to slicken the slide, and then thrust myself back up the tremendous shaft, pushing harder as he flexed his cock and I finished with my smaller shaft teasing around his slit.

"Fuck, Sibra, that feels good." He moaned and threw his head back while I moved, and it almost made me cum right then.

No. It was much more fun to just slide back down and up again, ignoring my own shudders while I pulled what I could out of him, increasing the force and speed of my thrusts, feeling his knot start to swell up under my ass while he finally did something useful with his arms, snatching my hips and helping me, almost using me as a tremendous hand to masterbate himself, and my pleasure was reaching its peak before I wanted it to, but it didn't matter. I felt his member twitch and on the way back, felt his tremendous balls drawing nearer.

"I'm warning you one last time," he growled, deep in his throat. "It's gonna make a mess."

"I'll clean it up then." I met his eyes and drew myself slowly up one more time, knowing I had gone over the edge. "Just paint our faces white for now, and worry later!" I shouted as I climaxed and started pumping out what little I had and he jerked me like I weighed nothing and grunted and moaned until I felt his cock pulse and the first wave surged out, splashing my face with seed and coating his chest, and it was by no means the last or strongest go.

I held myself closer to his breast and let the hot stuff plaster me, chest, neck, face, mouth, licking at it hungrily and holding myself in its way while he jammed me down over his knot and I continued to spasm as my orgasm ended. He bellowed a few pulses in, letting loose what I knew he had held back, and the sound of the roar filled my brain with more of this primal, thoughtless lust and I swallowed everything I could. It went on for minutes, and he howled after the roar, and I broke my ravenous licking to arch my back and shove our groins as hard together as I could and howl with him, our voices joined in this unearthly, lusty harmony before I fell back down on him and lay, panting and drunk with pleasure, both of us soaked in his fluids, as was his bedhead and the wall behind it, as were the sheets and pillow with his incredible load, and I straddled his knot and brought up my feet to toy with his balls and roll them back and forth, the heat like a sauna, and he brought his arms down on my back, so heavy I couldn't move, if he didn't want me to. And I liked it that way, to know he was in control, even when I had been in charge for so long. I then felt and heard something I hadn't anticipated.

His stomach growled.

"Not getting enough to eat, big man?" I asked quietly, lost in the beat of his heart against my body and the steady rhythm of his expanding and deflating lungs.

"Just haven't had dinner yet, tonight."

My brain moved quickly. "I hear I'm good with garlic salt," I murmured into his fur, already twitching my fingers into a pattern to protect myself. Hopefully, his magic, while strong, would be too simple to get through the locks I set. His stomach gurgled again. Hopefully. My heart started throbbing faster again.

"Now how did...? Ah, well. Doesn't matter."

"Don't plan on seeing anyone for a while? And besides, people will know I'm gone." My voice was calm, and I think he was looking in the wrong direction to notice me grinning as I traced spirals in his fur with a finger.

He stroked me against him with those incredible arms, enjoying the smooth feel of my fur under his fingers, and though he increased the pressure when I pushed my back up, all I was doing was arching against them for the sake of feeling them. There was no way I could escape without magic, and I didn't really want to get out of it. I had never been eaten by someone of an almost-reasonable size before. Could be interesting.

"Nope. No one will look here for you, because I know you lied about where you were going. Your clothes won't be hard to get rid of. And I'm big enough and strong enough to hide two of you, if I have to. One won't be a problem."

You don't know the half of what you're talking about, I thought grimly. "Well, it ought to at least be fun. I hear it's actually fairly pleasant until digestion kicks in. Testimonies from people who were gotten out in time," I responded to his questioning murr. I moved and cuddled and snuggled against him, never wanting to leave that broad, all-encompassing body. I suppose he didn't exactly want me to leave, either.

"Don't be cute," he chuckled. "You might make me like you."

I snorted. "Yeah, it's always better not to have a relationship with your dinner," I kidded as he looked with quiet incredulity down at me. I scritched my fingers through his drenched fur, sliding my face through the warm mess and rubbing against him like a pup.

"I do usually seduce my meals, but never... quite like this."

He gently pinned my arms to my side and started positioning himself, holding his massive frame up on his elbows. "How many have you murdered?" I asked in a whisper, meeting his gaze as I picked my head up. I let him see fear in my eyes, and he smiled with predatory satisfaction on seeing it.

"Soon to be a baker's dozen. Are you going to fight me, or can we do this the easy way?"

I sighed with a soft smile, not really able to keep up the charade of fear with this much anticipation sending my heart rate soaring. "I'm feeling too tired for that kind of struggle, but I can wriggle around if you want."

He snickered and started sliding me up to his mouth, and I gazed in wonder at it as it opened for speech, seeming larger now, as though he had grown to be in proportion with his still-hard organ. "And here I was thinking you had paid me for my services."

"Funny how things work out."

His tongue fell out of his mouth and he began licking my face, drawing off the cum that coated it like a mother to her newborn. I gasped and moaned around that tremendous muscle, closing my eyes and swerving my head this way and that to press against its wet warmth as he still held me down, my arms useless, though tensed under his iron grip. I managed to maneuver my head so I caught him by surprise in a nose-to-nose kiss, snatching his tongue between playful teeth, and I could taste his cum in his mouth, my own lost in the intoxicating musk of his, and then somehow, after he started to move it around and slurp at the side of my face, my head was suddenly inside his mouth and my nose was pushing against the back of his throat while his teeth tickled my neck. I felt various magical flows open and close, his airway shifting to let him breathe while he swallowed me - I shuddered eagerly at the thought - and my spell subtly taking advantage of that to let me breathe even in the hot confines of his cavernous maw.

I had never understood how "vore-ing" worked, with the sizes always being wrong, so when my muzzle was pushed past the sphincter of his throat and I felt my shoulders get scraped by his teeth as they, too, went in his mouth, I twitched in surprise and started wriggling playfully, getting him to clamp down harder on me as I raked the claws of my feet against his chest, making him to moan around me so I could feel the shuddering vibrations of his voice caress my body in my lightless world.

I felt his razor teeth rend shallow gashes in my chest as he fed me over them and I let out a fierce, pained growl while pleasure coursed through me from the incisions and he lapped delicately at the trickles of blood and I wriggled and squirmed as I pushed through a second, tightened, wet, and warm area, getting out of the gripping confines of his throat and finally into the slightly more spacious area of his stomach. He had sat up by now, and his hands were massaging my hips sensually, roughly, firmly as he slowed my progress intentionally, and if the peristaltic ripples of muscle along my body hadn't registered in my head by then, they certainly did after that, and I groaned inside him, hearing my heavily muted voice get absorbed by my fleshy prison as he flipped me over, disorienting me so he could better swallow me.

His broad tongue lapped at my member, burning again from lust, teasing my swiftly-formed knot, soaking my balls as he pushed me further and further in, his tongue providing a safe passage over those sharp teeth that closed down again on my thighs, and I could tell he had shifted so he was again on his back. Little mattered as every swallow pulsed and washed over me and pushed me further down, my shoulders now joining my head and he had begun stroking his chest, letting the terrible power of his mouth and throat take care of the rest of the process, and he caught my feet with his teeth so his steady gulping would massage and press and pull against my cock and swollen knot, and hot pleasure inundated my body and senses over and over again while I gasped until I came for the second time that night, shooting my seed down his throat while I shuddered in orgasmic spasms, and I felt him smile around my feet as he let me go the rest of the way, and snapped his jaws shut around them so I could hear and feel the click through his chest.

It wasn't long before I had curled myself into the fetal position, feeling paradoxically warm and safe in this place that had been a deathhouse for so many others, getting comfort and relief not felt for far too long while his stomach began producing acids and enzymes that couldn't penetrate my shield, even as his natural magic pushed crushingly, shatteringly, confusedly, and uselessly against the complexity of my own, learned ability. I smiled where I was, shifting around to get more comfortable. His answering chuckle, followed by a resounding belch, made me giggle childishly, like a little kid getting bounced on his father's knee.

"Get comfortable, Sibra," he said, tasting the name, cherishing it. "You're all mine, now."

Out of curiosity, I reached a claw out and scritched at the interior lining, wondering how predators like him kept prey from just tearing out. The claw slid by as though touching greased glass, finding no purchase. I withdrew the digit, satisfied. I felt as though logically, I should be making a bulge in his stomach that looked like he was pregnant with triplets in the third trimester, but I felt his abdominal muscles shifting and pressing around me, compressing the space I was in until I knew that I was successfully and completely hidden by the slabs of meat between me and the outside world, and it felt wonderful. I could stay here, cocooned and invisible for days, and no one would know except for him and me, and I would be warm and safe, and I wouldn't have to think about anything, or be responsible for anything because I would be pronounced dead, gone from the world, never to return. I could use that, and start something somewhere...

The nihilist thoughts drifted pleasantly through my brain while he breathed heavily, stretched out on his bed and wondering, if I may shift into third-person, about the creature he had just consumed. Sibra. A brilliant mind, to be sure. A saludatorian. Probably a science major, the way he acted. Strong in his own way, quick-witted, commanding, knowing exactly what he wanted and how to get it. A little awkward. Arrogant in a weird way. Had tasted exquisite, going down. Faris was impressed that the kid had judged so accurately with him, knowing he would be willing to have some fun for a few hours for the right pay. And now, he stood up and wandered to his victim's pants to check his wallet, unaware the prey could feel his juices sloshing around, and could thus guess what was happening.

He sat on his bed and looked through Sibra's various belongings, the wolf's wallet and knife, his keys and cell phone, taking his pay and the rest of the cash (a few ones) slowly, deliberately. Was this wrong, any more so than killing Siber had been? Or probably killing him - he could feel slow pulses inside him, and wondered if it was just some strange action of his stomach or if the heart and lungs were still working. It had always felt good to feel that heartbeat throb, slow, and stop, assuming it wasn't masked by the thrashing of a struggling meal. He looked in particular at the driver's license and a photo of a gorgious lynx, raising his eyebrows at the undeniable beauty of that photo. She was in a modestly-cut, gloriously-designed emerald gown and make-up that would put models to shame, her purple eyes glowing with joy as she smiled elegantly into the camera.

"Damn, he's lucky to have that." He paused. "To have had that, at least." It was rare that Faris examined a victim's past, because as Sibra had said, it was never a good idea to have a relationship with a meal. This one, though... This one had been different. He was desperate for something, in a different way than other people were desperate. Most of the furs, male and female alike, whom he had eaten had either gone down fighting as he suffocated them in a panicked frenzy or passed out in a drunken stupor after sloppy sex and embarrassing pleas for satisfaction. Over the years, he had narrowed the demographic to low-lifes and the situation had shifted decidedly to the latter scenario, but his goal was the same: to find those who were too lost to their own vices to fight him until it was too late. Sibra had known what was coming, been fully conscious, and had gone so far as to play with the husky, once he realized what was happening. He did not go gently into that good night, but he didn't lose an ounce of his humanity when he closed his eyes.

Faris sighed when he remembered the mess. Sibra had said he'd take care of all that. What was he supposed to do? He was still hard, too, after all of that. He smiled briefly. It had been incredible sex, unlike any he had had before, and thinking back on it made him want another round. He drew up his onyx, pulsating obelisk of flesh until it stood proudly in front of him on its own, its tapered tip a foot from his face, then used the copious volumes of precum, saliva, and semen to lubricate it before sliding one tremendous paw down its imposing length.

He was proud of that length, and loved to use it like this, either alone or with a victim. No, he would probably never have real sex without learning magic and significant control, but when he could get a full five seconds of pleasure from a single stroke, it was worth it. He set both hands to work, breathing hard and heavy as he went. He didn't need much, he knew, but reached behind him with a slick finger all the same and teased his own tailhole lustily while the other hand jacked up and down the unreal length.

He got the finger inside and clenched around it, not aware his meal could feel the movements and was enjoying it completely. Another finger went in, and a third while he clenched his teeth and precum poured in a river down his length, drenching his chest and running rivulets through the maze of his abs. Finally, he came again, wetting the ceiling and leaning back to let it rain down on him in torrents, moaning loudly into the empty room, knowing no one dared enter a room while noises like that were coming out of it, and opened his mouth to catch the copious volumes that flowed seemingly ceaselessly from him, his pride high and bubbling as he felt that volume drench him for the second time that night.

Finally, it subsided, and he lay on his soaked bed, the creamy white covering him pleasantly, panting and grinning wildly. He felt so good, and now Sibra was his. He liked thinking of his meals' names as he digested them, thinking how another fur was fully inside him and nourishing him, and by killing them, he had taken everything they had and made them a part of his burgeoning whole. They were his. Forever.

He had usually gone to his victims' abodes, fully aware he was not a known suspect, that no one was expecting him to really be anywhere at all, and that when he struck, he struck in the same area of town far away from where he lived, so the police never suspected his true location. In a more conservative society, there would be checks on the locations of every potential predator, but with the recent election, that certainly wasn't happening, and as always, he would never have to worry about it. Faris had also only recently wondered whether the killing was right or wrong, and tried to ignore it, for the most part.

Faris's parents were both predators like he was and each had their own techniques to teach him. As a child, he had watched his father jump prey on nature walks, rape them into submission (viable because his father wasn't hyperphallic like he was), and eat them while they were knocked out or succorless from exhaustion. He had watched his mother seduce dozens of men and women, her overpowered pheremones drowning them in a deluge of delerium and lust until they suffocated in her throat while she held their twitching bodies and she finished the meal. He ended up combining the two, seducing his victims and encouraging them to wear themselves out before consuming them. His first kill had been his best, if his simplest.

Eight years old, while his father watched, he stalked a young fawn who had wandered away from her parents. It had been relatively quick and easy. The girl was gullible in her youth, unashamed of nakedness, and perfectly willing to believe it would be a fun game to hide from her parents inside him. By the time she realized she couldn't breathe, he was holding her paralyzed in his already-strong arms and just swallowed until the end. At that age, it was harder for the muscles in his chest to conceal her size, so his parents laughed and rubbed his chubby belly when he came home, but they were proud of him.

The way they saw it, he had been born a predator, and others were prey. It wasn't murder, like Sibra had said. It was a food chain. He ate, and as long as he evaded the law, it was fine. He didn't have to live this way - he could eat normal food, and he did, most of the time. But when the opportunity presented itself... he took advantage of the fact that there was no better taste and no better feeling than having a meal squirm its way live down your throat and then walking in front of other people and knowing that one of their own was hidden behind his abs, totally invisible to the outside world. Whether the victim had had a family or a future was as unimportant as whether a pig had been a pet or livestock. The bacon was just as good either way.

He got up to get my pants (as I slip back into first-person) again and start shredding them and what was left of my shirt, wherever it was, so he could throw them away with the rest of the trash. At the feel of him moving, I, who had almost begun to fall asleep, jerked in surprise. If I had surrendered to sleep, it would have been the end. My magic would have worn out eventually and the enzymes would have kicked in with no way of escape. Unless I killed him, and I didn't want to do that. Unless, of course, it meant surviving.

He sat down heavily in surprise, eyes somewhat furtive as he looked around as though someone else could hear something. He felt at his chest, and I murred and pushed back against his rubbing hands. "Christ," he whispered, "are you still alive in there, Sibra?" The taste of that name was tart now, instead of as sweet and delicious as it had been before.

"Mmm, I'm certainly not dead," I murmured sleepily, giving him the best internal massage I knew how to give.

"You- you need to be dead," he said. "You can't just sit in there."

"But it's so warm..." I complained mock-imploringly, my fingers, small and dense because of his magic, rubbing relaxingly against his muscles while my voice echoed through his tremendous chest cavity. He closed his eyes and put his hands back on the bed, willing to accept the exploring digits.

"That does feel pretty good, but I thought you had finally died. I didn't eat you so you could sit there and not nourish me. How are you alive?"

"Well, I never told you to eat me, or kill me. So logically, it shouldn't have happened, right?"

"I guess that makes sense," he mused, lying back on the bed again, staring at the ceiling, "even if it doesn't. You also never cleaned up after me like you said you would."

"Don't know how inclined I am to do that." We were talking quiescently, as though I weren't in his stomach. My voice came out muffled, but nearly as loud as his. "You did try to kill me."

"Don't be like that. I tried to eat you. There's a difference."

Again, I didn't feel like getting into it. "Still pretty offensive, from my point of view."

He laughed, jiggling me. "As long as I've got you here, then, why didn't you fight? You seemed pretty aware of everything."

"Because I knew I could do this. Roll over; this'll feel better if you're on your chest." I would have to speak up, though, without the massive resonance chamber that was his chest. He complied, white face smearing in his own semen again, the added coating not really changing anything, and I went back to work once I reoriented myself. He was lying comfortably on a pillow and sighed and murred intermittently while I went about my work.

"Fair enough. How do you plan on getting out?"

"I could either teleport, something I'm not very good at and don't trust myself to do, you can reverse the predator magic to get me out, or, if you don't cooperate, I can tear my way out of here with combat magic. Your choice, really." I didn't get pugnacious; these were simply options being presented to him.

"S'pose I'll cooperate, then," he answered sleepily. "How are you breathing? Most of my prey die by suffocation."

"Hijacked your lungs," I said nonchalantly. "Don't go to sleep on me, or it'll be very unpleasant when I come back up. Now don't choke while I do this - I'm cleaning up for you."

Before he could really respond, I sent a magical net out to gather up all of his spilled semen and jerked it towards me, so that it sped forcefully down his throat, making him choke and splutter, spasming on the bed and jerking me around. I smiled triumphantly as I held on and gathered the little that went into his lungs, because I needed that air as much as he did. The sticky stuff flowed around me as it joined me in that little chamber, but all of it that had soaked into my fur also drained away, not affected by the other spell I had up for keeping out the stomach fluids.

"There you go," I simpered. He had heaved himself up to sitting again and was panting and coughing on the side of the bed. "Just to let you know I'm not kidding about getting out of here."

"I believe you, don't worry," he gasped. "You want out now?"

"Hmm," I pondered. "Nah, I feel bad. Lie back down again, and I'll give you another massage. I don't want this to end awkwardly; I told you that already."

Hesitantly, he lay back down, and I started my ministrations again, rubbing soothingly at his insides, little lumps just barely appearing as I went, glad that I couldn't see anything in what should have been my tomb. Predators were interesting beings. For example, were I to have died that night, or made it look like I had died, the investigation would have gone something like this:

My mother/roommate/girlfriend/whoever would have reported a missing person to the police. My dorm would be checked and suspects filed. There would be a full investigation and an amber alert. A week later, one of the private investigators would realize there were no good clues and it would occur to him that, with no witnesses, no signs of struggles, and no one with a tab on where I was, I had probably been eaten by a talented predator. May there be no doubt about it, Faris knew what he was doing. Without my magic, he would still be able to clean up and erase all evidence. His inborn magic would show up as just that, and the fact that it left the markings of a predator meant nothing to an investigator, because there were plenty of people with the ability to consume in such a way, but were either not aware or not willing to. It was one of the reasons I hadn't initially suspected him of planning what he had.

Some minutes later, he smoothly regurgitated me and I shook off my spell, totally dry despite where I had been, a spray of liquids around me. "What?" I asked with a playful smile. "You didn't try to cock-vore me as I came up?"

"I thought about it," he admitted. We were standing and facing one another. He looked so confused. No one had ever escaped him before, I gathered. "I'm not going through all that again, though."

I picked up my wallet and checked it, to pay him. "You stole my money," I smirked.

He picked it up from the bedside table where he had left it and returned it. "I thought you were dead," he said with a shrug. "You didn't need it."

"Well, I guess I won't skimp on your wages. Even though you didn't do what I paid you for, you did entertain me, like I expected. What time is it?"

"'round twelve. We've got another five hours, if you're up to it." He looked perfectly honest, his tail actually wagging behind him at the thought. His cock, though it had retreated into his sheath, had swollen that furred tube considerably already. "As long as you'll clean it up easier than last time."

I looked at the bed, considering. I had paid for a whole night, and gotten two hours that had felt like so much more. Suddenly, though...

Glen.

I suddenly twitched as his name shot like a crossbow bolt through my brain, and knowing I was in full confidentiality, with a frightened, confused look plastered on my face, I leaped at the husky and wrapped myself around him, hanging off his shoulders and hips. "Take me to the bed and hold me. Just for an hour. That's all I need, and then we can just say I have credit with you." My voice shook like a feather in a hard breeze. Glen.

In wonder, he folded his tremendous arms around me and rolled gently onto his bed. "That works for me," he said as I trembled in those arms, trying to fight the madness that was surfacing, the madness I was using him to avoid. I wanted to rip at him, at me, anything to take my mind from the crushing loss I felt. Glen. He didn't ask questions. He just lay there with me in our nakedness, though I felt like I was the only one really naked there. Glen. He stroked my head and along my back, and I knew he wouldn't try to kill me a second time. That was over between us. Glen. He just did as he had been told, comforting me as I jerked and twitched in his arms, desperate not to sob despite the clandestinity of our relationship.

Glen.

Glen.

Glen.

An hour later, I got up, my eyes dry, my face expressionless, and put on my pants and shoes, knowing that wandering around shirtless wouldn't necessarily warrant attention in this weather. He followed me with his eyes, and before I left, I tipped my head my head to him and said, "Nice doing business with you. I'll let you know when I need that credit."

"Good night," he said quietly, and rolled back on the bed, bewildered, as I closed the door and went back to my room, feeling better than I had in an entire year, but fully aware that nothing had changed. What I didn't know was that he didn't sleep that night, unable to keep thoughts of me out of his head. He knew that, though, and thus was born yet another who, once used by me, knew that they could not and would not go through life without seeing me again.

I never even caught the color of his eyes.