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Meeting Rick

By Strega

She was only an inch taller than his five foot height, slender, and smooth and dusky of skin, with Spaniard and probably African blood not too many generations back in her family tree. She smiled the instant she saw Rick and he smiled back, keeping his muzzle shut so not to contrast the difference between her flat white teeth and his sharply pointed ones. She was human, after all, and he was human only in shape, and that only mostly.

Ranger Rick was an anthropomorphic raccoon, one of a very few of his kind in the world just as his boss Smokey was one of perhaps five anthro-bears. No one was quite sure how it happened, even the scientists and wildlife experts who studied the subject. There were plenty of theories, of course. Maybe it had something to do with curiously intelligent animals people were meeting more and more often - some of those could even speak and it was not unheard-of for one to bed a human or vice versa. It was quite impossible for a bear to impregnate a woman or a man to knock up a female raccoon, but you had to explain people like Rick somehow.

Sometimes women with no animal contact at all bore anthropomorphic animal children, and no one could explain that, either. In some parts of the world such 'monsters' were put to death on the spot. Rick had been luckier, raised by a loving family and bearing with good-natured thick skin the taunts of other children. Children are cruel by nature but Rick managed to not become an emotional wreck and in the end they had accepted him.

His belt buckle read "Rick" and his ranger hat had a five-fingered paw print on the front, it having been as easy for him to get a "mascot" job with the forest service as it had Smokey. He appeared on television a few times a year in various public safety announcements but the average person thought he was some sort of special effect. Now Amy met him face to face and knew, if she hadn't already, that he was exactly what he looked like - a five foot tall raccoon man.

"Hi," she said with a giggle, and Rick curled his chops in a smile and nodded. "I'm Amy."

"Welcome to the campground, Amy," he chittered back, and her smile widened. He spoke two languages and enough of four others to get by, but his muzzle, fangs and slight stature gave him a high-pitched childish voice. "Enjoying your stay?"

She took a minute to look him over before answering. His boots, ranger pants and short-sleeved shirt covered up a lot and maybe a small man could wear furry, clawed gloves and put on a fake raccoon tail, but his face put a lie to that idea. Rick's face and head were entirely feral, with broad cheek ruffs and cup-shaped furry ears. His bright blue eyes looked out of a mask of dark fur and his white whiskers twitched inquisitively as he looked her over in turn. He was clean, well-groomed and extremely cute and he knew it.

"I bet you hear this all the time, but may I...," and without a word he took off his hat - it had holes for his ears, she saw - and let her pet him. He wouldn't let just anyone do that but the natural curiosity of human women had made and kept him a very happy raccoon. His assumption that everyone wanted into his pants had gotten him slapped a few times and had led to the unfortunate "Sexy grandmother and raccoon" video, but with the coaching of his older, wiser, and also furry boss he was learning. He didn't just lead off with where he'd like her to pet him, or what body part he'd like her to use when she did. That had been successful a few times but had led to the aforementioned slaps in others.

When he had put his hat back on he gestured at the campground. Less than half the spots were occupied and there was a chill in the air that campfires were sprouting up to combat. "So where are you camped? I saw someone had set up a new tent at the end earlier, down by the waterfall. You?"

"That's me," she said. "Weekend trip from the college. It was supposed to be four of us, but the others backed out at the last minute and since I'd reserved the spot...."

He nodded, stealing a glance at her bottom as she looked out at the campground. Her ass was firm and she was friendly but he mustn't be too forward. He had also sniffed her wrist as she petted him, and that had told him some things.

"It does get cold at night this early in the season," he observed. "Remember to put your fire out - there's firewood for sale at the ranger cabin - and hopefully you brought either a good sleeping bag or some extra blankets."

"I suppose to don't need those," she smiled. "You have fur."

Without moving his hand from his belt he keyed the radio he always carried. Cell phone reception was all but non-existent here but the C3 radio system based at the cabin was reliable throughout the valley and he had made extremely sure when he got the radio that he could key it without it making a sound at his end.

"You'd be surprised," he chittered. "We don't turn the heat on at the cabin much. And the walls aren't well insulated."

"Oh, I'd like to see where you sleep," she said. "Could I get a tour?" The words were innocent enough, unless you saw her expression and where her eyes went. Rick smiled.

"Sure," He said, and they set off on the short walk to the ranger cabin.

"I'd introduce you to Smokey but he's two campgrounds down the road getting ready for tonight's campfire chat. He won't mind me showing you the cabin, though." The first part of that was, of course, a lie, and he unkeyed the radio after saying it.

By the time they reached the cabin she was stroking his tail in a manner that made it plain she wanted to stroke something else but he kept his hands firmly to himself until the door snicked shut behind them. Only then did he allow them to wander and her own slipped off his tail to explore more delicate regions. The long bulge of sheath in his trousers stiffened at her touch and her rump was as firm as he'd hoped. As he explored still more interesting regions of her anatomy he tilted his head toward the closed door next to the ranger desk. The cabin was not large but two-thirds of it consisted of bedroom; she took in Smokey's oversized bed with its tough woolen blanket and the smaller day bed. He nodded to the larger bed and by the time they reached it he had left a trail of clothes and she was almost as naked.

Rick sat on the bed and let out a long chitter of approval as she knelt before him. As his sheath drew back she was momentarily nonplussed at the size of his erection, which would have been good-sized on a man and and appeared quite disproportionate on his small frame. It wasn't quite the right shape either, having a long flattened S-curve supported by its strong internal bone, but the length and girth were about right. She recovered and he chittered again as she did indeed begin to pet his dick with her lips. She still had her top on but had lost her skirt and her free hand stole down between her legs.

He sniffed again and confirmed what he had suspected. Despite appearances she wasn't the least bit aroused. That was all right, though. It had been several days since the last curious lady stopped by the campsite - he was especially lucky with the retiree set, some of whom stopped by every year just to visit him - and it didn't take much effort to get horny after a few days of abstinence. He put one clawed hand on her shoulder and watched the fat pink lips ride up and down his cock, interspersed with licking and some good old-fashioned hand job action. She wasn't especially good at it but he was pent up and ready to go.

Normally he would let his lover know with more than a low growl that messy things were about to happen and normally he'd have lasted longer but there was no reason to hold back now and she was still enthusiastically sucking the raccoon cock she had half swallowed when he snarled and came in her mouth.

His other hand grabbed her shoulder and her eyes went wide as watery cum spurted into her throat. With several days of lust saved up it was a particularly rewarding orgasm for Rick and though he did not pull her down onto him he still took an extra bit of pleasure from the fact that she didn't spit it out.

"Sorry," he muttered, but she just smiled around his cock as she let it slide back into view. His sheath slipped back up almost as fast and in a moment only a slight wetness around her lips and the damp sheath between her breasts were clues that she had just swallowed a mouthful of raccoon cum. Rick's ear flicked as he heard someone quietly open the outside door of the cabin, but he said nothing.

"It's all right," she said, and Rick tugged at her shoulder to show she should climb up atop him. She stood back up as he lay back but though his eyes looked sleepy and satiated he watched her with keen attention as she leaned forward.

Several things happened almost simultaneously. Her hand went behind her back and a surprised expression appeared on her face, Rick showed her the knife he'd taken while feeling her up, and a heavy thump sounded from behind the door to the office. Before she could back off his legs went around her waist and Rick pulled her down atop him, making sure to trap her upper arms in case she had another knife he'd missed.

"It's too bad you weren't as innocent as you looked," he told her, face to face with the struggling 'college student'. He'd smelled that she was not alone in that tent, just as he'd smelled the trace of drugs on her scent. She wasn't the first drug trafficker to come to this campground and it hadn't taken much thought to realize she was probably after the money and confiscated drugs in the office safe. The news of that drug bust had made it onto the internet last night and she and her accomplice had seized the opportunity since they were in the area. "I really could have used a nice roll in the hay."

The door opened and Smokey, who had only been at the other end of the campground when he heard the radio, dragged a stocky, protesting man in. It was a big and strong perp but Smokey weighed five hundred pounds and knew how to use that weight.

"Hey Rick," the big bear growled. "Got your message." What these two hadn't known was that Rick had his own, small cabin right behind this one. If he'd just wanted a roll in the hay he'd have gone to that one, or to the woman's tent or camper, as opposed to bringing her here. It hadn't taken any code words to let Smokey know that Rick sensed trouble.

"Let me go!" Amy - if that was her real name - struggled in Rick's grip, but they were about the same weight and the little raccoon-man was solid wiry muscle under his fur. She managed to roll the two of them onto their sides on Smokey's bed but that was as far as she got.

Smokey had the stocky man by the neck now and observed, "She's a little one."

"Yes, she is," Rick agreed, and two sets of eyes - the stocky man's, and Amy's - went wide with horror as he yawned. Smokey watched with a slight smile as the woman stared past the raccoon's fangs into the slick fleshy chute of his gullet. Before she could react Rick got his jaws over her face and with a slow, squirming swallow engulfed her entire head.

A muffled scream emerged from beneath his fur as he worked his jaws further over her, taking in her slender neck and spending rather longer easing himself over her shoulders. The gray-brown pelt of his neckfur stretched to show pink skin as his impossibly distended maw slipped down to cover the exposed skin of her upper arms. Amy kicked and squirmed but Rick's legs were locked around her waist and the raccoon-man had twice her strength. Despite her best efforts he worked himself over her inch by inch, his swollen neck pulsing as his swallowing muscles eased her ever closer to his stomach.

Smokey had only seen Rick do this once before; the tail of a lemur-man had hung from the raccoon's jaws for half an hour before he finally recovered enough from the meal to slurp it up, and the next day Rick had coughed up a mass of fur the size and shape of a football. He had learned from that and once his jaws were far enough over Amy's arms to muffle their movement Rick set about tearing the clothing from her body. There would be no inconveniently indigestible items in the raccoon's stomach this time or, for that matter, any weapons or drugs carried along with the rest. Amy would go into Rick's stomach as naked as the day she was born.

"You can't do this!" yelled the other perp, but Smokey hadn't forgotten him. His grip was like an iron manacle around the stocky man's neck as he was dragged to his feet. Smokey made him watch as bit by bit, never easily and often with only the greatest effort, Rick swallowed the woman to the navel. They were both naked now and some aspect of the meal had aroused the raccoon, whose penis once more protruded from its sheath, but it did not seem to occur to him to use the woman before she disappeared down his throat. Instead he dug his fingers into the firm muscle of her rump and pulled, ever so slowly working his distended jaws over the widest part of Amy's body. Her hands stood out on either side of his mouth, fingers clenching in a hopeless effort to save herself.

She was just a set of kicking legs now, her head in his stomach and the rest of her on the way to following it. The stocky man watched with horror as Rick rolled up onto his hands and knees, pink showing through the stretched fur of his belly too now, and trapped Amy's knees against the bed. He was only as large as his meal but with a long slow push he swallowed. There was nowhere for her thighs to go but down his throat and the grotesque swelling in his middle grew as more and more of his briefly-met lover arrived in his stomach.

Rick was much faster this time than he'd been with the lemur, and though he dragged in painful breaths through his full throat he set about finishing his meal. When her knees arrived between his jaws he once again rose to hands and knees, pressed her feet into the surface of the bed, and pushed his nose down over them. The stocky man could only watch in despair as the last few inches of Amy slipped into the raccoon's gullet. Five minutes before she had been a young, vital, beautiful woman, now there was nothing left but a set of feet in Rick's mouth and a bulge that swelled his neck and torso all out of shape.

"Amy," gasped the man, but Rick's head went up, and with a last series of heavy gulps he worked his way over her heels. For a moment her feet rested on his tongue and toes peeked helplessly from the corners of the raccoon's mouth, then he stretched out his muzzle and a final, straining gulp the last bulge moved from his cheeks, down through the loose fur of his neck and finally joined the vast swelling of his midsection.

"You can't just eat people," the man said in wonderment. "You just can't." Neither he nor Smokey took their eyes off the squirming bulge in the raccoon, whose torso had more than doubled in size since he lay down with Amy. Little dark-furred hands struggled to keep the squirming under control and a long belch made his pelt twitch. Gradually the struggle in his midsection quieted as whether through despair or lack of breathable air his meal settled down. When the raccoon finally got his jaws re-hinged he blinked at them owlishly, looking neither proud of himself nor sad but merely very, very full.

There was a gasp as the man found himself hauled in close to the big bear's chest and for a moment he had much the same view Amy had earlier. The teeth were superficially different but past them was the same yawning cavern of gullet. His shout was muffled to nothing as Smokey's muzzle dipped and Rick watched a far easier meal than his own as the big bear swallowed the man past the shoulders in one quick lunge.

Holding the man between his powerful handpaws Smokey pushed his nose downward, a rolling bulge making its way into his throatfur as the man's head slid into his gullet, then clamped down with his jaws and took a moment to rip every scrap of clothing from the husky man's body. Then with an upward flip of his muzzle he engulfed him to the hips and with a series of gulps that showed no particular effort he swallowed the man down.

Rick's meal had taken five minutes of struggle and endless gasping past a prey-filled throat. Smokey's took less than a minute, and that included tearing the man's clothes off. He was more than twice as massive as his meal and Rick's had been equal to his own weight, but Smokey was also a much more experienced predator. Only recently had Rick shown any interest in this sort of thing and criminals small enough for him to swallow were few and far between. Smokey could swallow any human of reasonable bulk with little effort at all and had even swallowed a few fellow bears. The stocky man was no challenge at all and his jaws snapped shut as a last gulp sent the bulge of the man's feet down through his neckfur to join the rest.

"Well then," Smokey said when he'd re-hinged his jaws, and burped. The stocky man was still kicking, but fifty or so men and a few women had preceded him down the bear's gullet and he knew the kicks would soon stop. Getting into the bear was quick and easy but getting out was a torturous affair as Smokey's digestive system had its say as to what you'd look like when you came out.

"And I'd just gotten back to my working weight," he complained half-seriously. He squeezed his gut and belched out more air. Digesting a man this size would put twenty or so pounds of fat right back on his hips, weight he'd barely worked off after a recent meal of two men and a black bear a mere few days after that.

"Hold on now," he growled as Rick struggled back upright on the bed. Without another word he picked the gorged raccoon up and transferred him to the day bed, which was usually used by visiting rangers but occasionally by Rick. He couldn't very well waddle back to his own cabin with a hundred and ten pounds of woman in his belly. Someone might see. They'd done the same thing when Rick swallowed the lemur. It was just as well that the ranger cabin had its own bathroom.

The raccoon was still getting used to meals like this and he let out a long, almost pained-sounding burp as Amy gave a last kick and was still. She'd lasted a surprisingly long time but a stomach is an inhospitable place and Rick's would treat her no more gently than Smokey's would have. The two criminals would spend the next few days being converted into fat, calories and great quantities of waste. It would take Rick twice as long as Smokey, his meal being proportionately larger and also, at least to the raccoon, more regrettable.

"What makes people do that," Rick muttered. "I knew she wasn't interested, but I was hoping she just wanted a story to tell to her friends. 'I banged the raccoon'. It happens." In fact while it was well known that Smokey was a horndog, Rick bedded at least as many women as he did. "But it was just what I thought it was." He pressed his hands against his belly, whose stretched fur revealed the shape of Amy's swallowed face. It would be some hours before the slow process of digestion rendered that unrecognizable and at least a day before the thickest bones of the skull dissolved.

Smokey left the room long enough to lock the outer door and hang up the 'Closed, back tomorrow' sign, then returned and stretched out on his own bed. Having converted far more criminals into bear fat in his time than had ended up as raccoon fat on Rick he shrugged phlegmatically.

"Upbringing, economics, other things," he growled, and swatted a shoe whose owner didn't need it on her trip through a raccoon off the bed. "At least you got a blowjob first." He looked up as Rick winced. "You don't feel guilty about -that- part, do you? She sucked your dick because she was trying to distract you, right?"

"Well, yeah," Rick chittered. "And she swallowed, which was nice."

"And if she'd just wanted a roll in the hay she's still be alive, right?"

"Yeah," Rick said, and fingered the bulge that used to be Amy.

"Well," Smokey growled. "How many women have you invited back to your cabin, or invited you into their camper this year? How many have you fucked?"

"It's early in the season," Rick said as he thought out loud. "Five, counting this one. Six if you count handjobs."

"And last year?"

"I don't know. Thirty? I don't notch my bedpost."

"And how many of those women ended up where she is now?"

"None of them. Just that lemur."

"Well then," Smokey said, and idly squeezed his belly between his hands. A healthy burp relived a momentary discomfort. "We are allowed to eat crooks as long as we use our best judgment. So as long as you aren't inviting them back to your place to rape them, and only eat them if they are really bad, then who is to blame?"

"Not me," said the raccoon with the beginnings of a smile.

That seemed to settle it, and though it was still light out, Smokey yawned and stretched out on the bed. Rick, far more bloated, rolled over onto his side and got as comfortable as he could, wrapped around a bulge as big as he was. The conversation ended and the only sounds were the quiet breathing of the two rangers and the occasional gurgle from their bellies as they settled down to digest their meals.