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"Ok, class, who can tell me about the symbolism in Hamlet's relationship with his father?" the grey fox stared out at a sea of young faces, sighing as they looked back at her in confusion. "You all did do the assigned reading, yes?"

An alpaca raised his hand, and Sandra nodded at him. "Umm, we haven't gotten to Hamlet yet, Ms. O'Dey. Mr. Elbert was still working on Henry IV, Part 1."

"Ah, I see," the fox said with a sigh. She reached back onto the desk and picked up the curriculum she'd been handed this morning. Without so much as a glance at it, she tossed it over her shoulder into the wastebin, much to the amusement of the class. Substitute teaching was a fun way to get out of the house, earn a little extra money, and make new...friends. But picking up after another teacher with no idea of current placement or progress was intensely annoying at times.

"On the bright side, that means I can talk about one of my favorite Shakespearean figures. How far into_Henry_ are you?"

The alpaca's hand went up again. "We've read it, and Mr. Elbert was explaining who everyone was."

Sandra drummed her fingers slowly, nails clicking on the desk. "Have you talked about Falstaff yet?"

The class shook their heads, and Sandra grinned happily. "Excellent!"

She turned and began erasing the board. "So, Falstaff. Who can tell me a little about the character as he is described on the page?"

As the class slowly came to life, back on familiar territory, the alpaca sank back into his chair. When he'd heard they were going to have a substitute for English, Ramone had experienced mixed feelings. Mr. Elbert was a good teacher, but the old bear had a tendency to drone when he hit a patch of explanation. So while a break from the dry, clinical assessments of their regular teacher was welcome, Ramone had feared the worst. The last sub had been a little old church lady who'd come in during Poe. She spent three days railing at the "satanic influence" and reading them Bible passages, and Mr. Elbert had not only been forced to file a complaint, but had spent most of a week undoing the damage and getting them caught up.

Ms. O'Dey, though...the alpaca bit back a sigh of happiness. Not only was she animated, but as he listened to her sensuously deep voice chatter wittily about Falstaff it became clear that she clearly knew the material. And, he thought with a blush, she was certainly easy on the eyes.

The fox was almost comically attractive, curvy and lush, a pin-up in skin tight jeans and a low cut tee shirt, with a plaid men's shirt thrown over it, sleeves rolled up to turn it into something like a jacket. She wore her dark hair pinned up on one side, so that it tumbled down her back and over her other shoulder. A tiny bird skull on a bobby pin graced the pinned up side, painted neon blue. She wore boots, but they were some kind of weird fashion things: they looked like work boots, but they had a three inch pump heel. Still, she was obviously used to walking in them, and her clothes chosen with comfort in mind. Her every movement was light, sensual, like she was dancing across the classroom.

As she turned and reached up to write something high on the board, Ramone suppressed an appreciative sigh, her ass moving in wondrous ways beneath the slim denim covering it, highlighted by her tail whipping around to balance her. Smart, beautiful, funny, mature...the alpaca thought he might be in love!

"So everyone agrees Falstaff is the comic relief?" Sandra asked, eyes twinkling. Ramone blinked at realizing he'd missed the class coming to that consensus. He raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr..." she glanced at the seating chart, "Dominguez?"

Ramone flushed as everyone turned to look at him. "Uh, well, he's certainly funny. And there's an element of comedy to his blustering, and the way he puts on airs and tells stories, but...he's more of a villain than a comic character."

Sandra clapped her hands excitedly. "Good! Dissent breeds discussion. How do you arrive at that, Mr. Dominguez?"

He coughed. "Well, he's like a Devil or Mephistopheles analogue. Trying to tempt Hal, to drag him down to the level of a rogue, away from his position as a prince. I think it seems that he wants to corrupt Hal enough that when Hal does come to power, he's ineffective and has to rely on Falstaff for advice, giving Falstaff power over the kingdom indirectly."

"Exactly right, Mr. Dominguez!" Sandra said, laughing. Ramone smiled shyly at her praise. She looked around the classroom, unfazed at having the point she'd been working towards explained by a student. In fact, she seemed to pleased that someone had beat her to the punch. "And this is why I love Falstaff. On the surface, he's just a blustering buffoon; yet his character is not only incredibly complex, but one of the key figures in the way the story plays out, in how Hal develops."

She turned and wrote "Duality" on the board. "Let's look at some of the ways Falstaff influences Hal, both good and bad."

The rest of the class blew by, the students growing more and more animated as they sank into a hot debate over whether Falstaff's villainy spurred Hal to greater heights, or simply provided a contrast for Hal to shine against when he did eventually redeem himself. At one point, half the class was firing back and forth at each other rapidly, Ms. O'Dey leaning on the desk and moderating the discussion. It was the most fun he'd had in class in a long while.

The bell rang, and the class jumped and a few even groaned. Sandra laughed. "Good times, people, that was a lot of fun! The Syllabus of +1 Inaccuracy says you're supposed to write a paper over the weekend, but fails to mention what it is or what the focus should be. So I'm going to say that you should do a study of two characters, your choice, and how they affect the story in similar or different ways. Bonus points if neither of the characters is Falstaff, although I certainly understand if you want to get some of those heated opinions down on paper. Mr. Elbert will be out for another week, so I'll see you on Monday!"

Ramone hung back as the rest of the class packed up and headed out, some of them grumbling about the homework, but most of them bantering eagerly, exchanging ideas. Sandra stretched, and his pants grew a little tighter, watching her turn to clean off the board. He took a deep breath and approached her desk. "Ms. O'Dey?"

She spun around. "Oh, hello! I didn't realize you were still here. Questions about the assignment?"

He shook his head. "Actually, I just wanted to tell you how much fun I had in class today."

"Well, thank you!" she said, grinning. "I have to say, I appreciated your contributions a lot."

"Oh, well, uh, you'd have said the same things," he said, shuffling his feet.

"Yes, but it wouldn't have been as easy for the class to get behind the idea if I just told them they were missing something," she replied. She stepped closer to him, getting into his personal space and put a hand on his arm. Ramone became acutely aware of the tent forming in his jeans. "I don't normally offer this, but you seem like a bright young man. Would you like to come over some time and talk Shakespeare, have a little coffee?"

He stared at her, standing so close he could almost feel the warmth of her body. "Ms. O'Dey, a-are you asking m-me out?"

"That would be completely inappropriate, Mr. Dominguez," she deadpanned, eyes twinkling. "I'm just offering to spend time with a promising student, to share...knowledge."

She gently squeezed his bicep and he shuddered. "Of course," her voice dropped into a throaty purr, "I can't stop you from choosing to interpret it as a date."

Ramone gulped. "I'd..I'd like that," he whispered.

"Excellent," she said with a smile. "Tomorrow? Pick you up at the coffee shop just around the corner from here, say around three?"

He managed a nod and she patted his arm, her smile turning sensual. "Good. Now, I'm afraid I have to run, I have some errands to do. But I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

Ramone gabbled something along the lines of "me too" and watched as she gathered up her bag and sashayed out of the room. After collecting himself, and untucking his shirt so that it hid his arousal, he floated out of the classroom, swimming in the fantasy of Ms. O'Dey "teaching" him all sorts of things!

~~~~~~

The young alpaca sat at a table outside Cup 'N Go, the local hipster coffee shop. He'd been mooning around enough last night that his family had teased him, convinced that he had a crush on someone. He'd denied it stoutly, if only because he didn't want to get Ms. O'Dey in trouble. But his dreams had been lurid, filled with flashes of grey fox fur, soft touches, and a low, growling female voice crying out with lust and need. This morning, he'd tried his best to act normal, but aside from the fact that he'd woken up early on a Saturday, his near constant hard-on and nervous fidgeting had alerted his family. When he finally started to make his escape, taking his bus pass with him, his Dad stopped him.

Dad pulled him aside on the front porch, out of view of the door and street. "Son," he said, obviously trying not to grin, "are you going to meet someone for a date?"

Ramone blushed and shook his head. "J-just meeting a new friend for a tutoring session."

"I don't suppose you're ready to tell me about him or her?"

Ramone shook his head again.

Dad rolled his eyes and fished in his pocket. "Well, in case your friend wants to tutor you in reproductive biology, take this." He pulled a strip of condoms out and Ramone's eyes bugged out.

"Dad!"

"Come on, your mother will worry if you don't have them."

Ramone took them gingerly and tucked them into his pocket, face burning. Dad nodded and Ramone started to go. "Not so fast, son."

"Yes, Dad?"

The twinkle in his father's eyes intensified. "Is the pf.gov app active on your phone?"

Ramone wanted to just climb into a hole and pull it in after him. "Yes, Dad."

"Because you know we spent months looking for your sister because the guy that ate her couldn't log in and list her as eaten."

"I know, Dad."

"Ok, kiddo. Just be careful?"

"I will, Dad," he promised.

Dad pulled him into a hug. "Good. Have fun, son."

Ramone returned the hug, feeling a little guilty for not reassuring his parents more, but unwilling to tell them he was meeting a woman old enough to be his mother, and a teacher to boot! He pulled back and headed down the steps, waving to his Dad before making for the corner bus stop.

Now, though, he was feeling antsy. What if this was just a joke? Or worse, what if Ms. O'Dey really did just want to eat him? She was a predator, after all. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and did a quick search on the Prey First app, first for her by name, then for grey fox predators in his area. While predation was legal, preds were required to register with the government. Neither search turned anything up, and he relaxed a little.

A horn beeped, and he looked up. His jaw dropped open.

Sitting at the curb was a blue two door classic coupe convertible. The top was down to take advantage of the balmy spring weather, and standing next to it was Ms. O'Dey, hair pulled back under a kerchief, wearing a loose white sundress that accentuated every luscious curve on her body, hitting her mid thigh and exposing muscular, beautiful legs. She wore the same clunky work boot-heels she'd worn the day before, even though they didn't match the breeziness or light color of the dress. He blushed when he realized that it was probably on purpose, since it pulled the eye first to her legs, and then naturally up those to the hem of her skirt.

"Well, are you coming, or did you just want to look all day?" she teased, crooking a finger.

He gathered up his coffee and stepped out of the wrought iron fencing surrounding the coffee shop porch. She opened the passenger door, revealing a soft white leather interior. He climbed in and moaned involuntarily as the bucket seat seemed to welcome him, more comfortable than his bed at home, even. Sandra laughed and walked around to climb into the driver's side.

"Wonderful, isn't she?" the fox said, stroking the oak paneling on the dash.

Ramone nodded. "But isn't it a little conspicuous, Ms. O'Dey?"

Laughing, Sandra turned the key. The car purred to life, and when she pulled away from the curb it rumbled with barely suppressed power. "What, for picking up a student, Mr. Dominguez?"

He blushed and smiled shyly. "You can just call me Ramone, or Ray."

She winked. "Only if you'll call me Sandra. But not Sandy, please. My first husband called me that all the time, and I can't stand the sound of it."

He grinned. "O-ok, Ms...um, Sandra."

"Nice to meet you, Ramone," she said with a grin, holding out her hand. He gave it a shake, grinning. "But in answer to your question, no I don't think it's too conspicuous. After all, people will remember the car, not me or you."

She pulled up to the stoplight and gave him a saucy wink. "Besides, I own Cup 'N Go. No-one's going to think twice about seeing me there."

At his shocked look, she laughed again. "I retired early. Too much stress, too much time spent worrying about the little things."

"So why do you teach, then?"

"Well, I like to stay active, of course," she said, tapping the gas as the light turned green. "And being around all you young people helps me keep feeling young."

ramone nodded and went to take a sip of his coffee

She grinned. "And, of course, I'm a lecherous old bitch that likes to admire strong, pretty young men."

Ramone choked and nearly coughed up coffee all over her upholstery.

"Oh, come on, you didn't really expect that I just wanted to talk Shakespeare, did you?" She said, reaching out to pat him on the back as he coughed. A sudden look of concern filled her face. "You're not gay, are you?"

He laughed, which made him cough more, and shook his head.

She sighed with relief. "Good. Had the most lovely young man once who just happened to get hard every day at two, like clockwork. He really did want to talk about Chaucer, had a passion for early english literature like you wouldn't believe."

As his coughing subsided, she grinned sideways at him. "I don't know who was more surprised when we got back to my house, him or me. He didn't even notice I was flirting, and I don't get many rejections."

Ramone grinned and wheezed out, "I_bet_ you don't."

Sandra gave an injured sniff. "Why Mr. Dominguez, are you calling me a slut?"

"No! I meant...well, you're really pretty, and-"

"Just pretty?" Now she sounded even more injured.

"I mean sexy!" Ramone clapped a hand over his mouth. "Oh god, I didn't mean that I just think you're hot, although you are, but you're also really smart, and I...I'm sorry, you can just take me home, I'm so sorry, I-" Ramone babbled.

Sandra threw her head back, guffawing like a sailor half a forty into a week long pass. She was laughing so hard she had to pull over, slapping her knee and snorting in the most unladylike fashion. He felt a flash of annoyance at realizing she'd been messing with him, but her unbridled glee was too infectious. He started to chuckle, and seconds later they were leaning on each other, laughing like lunatics.

"Oh, gods, your face," she managed to gasp out. "You should have seen. Your_face_."

That set them off again, and it was a good ten minutes before she could drive. Even then, the conversation was reduced to chuckles, broken up by bouts of laughter as one of them would look at the other and intone "you face!" or "just pretty?"

They pulled into her driveway, sides aching from laughter, and she had to fumble in the glove box for the garage door opener. She ended up nearly laying in his lap, and Ramone bit his lip at the sight of his lovely teacher's face so close to his groin. She winked at him as she pulled the car into the garage, still giggling and snorting a little. Sandra led him into the house, and he blinked. The kitchen, the room the garage opened into, was open and inviting, big bay windows overlooking a surprisingly big backyard for a suburban house. A ranch style ceiling slatted with polished oak rafters, and white tile and oak accents made the kitchen seem bright and airy, the open feeling only broken up by the centerpiece of the kitchen, a huge steel island.

She led him through the kitchen to a living room, and he realized the whole house was done in one cohesive style. Oak, eggshell white, and white tile or oak plank flooring dominated, with throws and pillows providing pops of color, the occasional flash of brushed steel filling in the blanks. He sat down on a surprisingly comfortable sectional couch. She nodded at his coffee. "Refill?"

"Please!" he said, offering her his travel cup. While she went back to the kitchen, he got up and perused her bookshelf. There was a lot of classic literature, but there was also a huge collection of graphic novels, cookbooks, and even a shelf devoted to art and art appreciation. That led him to look at the paintings on the walls, and he was somewhat startled to realize they were mostly actual paintings. The handful of prints were for concerts, or screen prints that looked to be real, not simply photocopies.

He was admiring a startlingly detailed print when she came back in, offering him his cup back. He took it with a nod of thanks and grinned at the sight of her mug: it had block stencil letter spelling out "MILF LIFE."

"So..." she said, toying with her mug. She nodded at the print. "You like it?"

"I do! I've never seen a real screen print up close."

Sandra made a moue of surprise. "You know what a screen print is?"

He grinned and took a sip of his coffee. "I'm fourteen, not a philistine."

"Fair enough," she said laughing. "I forget sometimes that these things are trendy again."

She walked over to the couch and patted the seat beside her. Blushing, he walked over and joined her, his dick rising up to show its approval of how close she was sitting. Sandra smiled softly, and ran her finger along his thigh, stopping just short of inappropriate. She leaned in and he panted a little, wondering if she was just going to kiss him right then.

"So how much Shakespeare _have_you read?" she whispered seductively.

Ramone caught the twinkle in her eye and grinned. She returned it mischievously. "Well, it wouldn't be appropriate to bring you here under false pretenses. I said we were going to talk Shakespeare and have coffee, and so we shall."

"A lot, actually," Ramone said, laughing a little.

"What's your favorite?"

"Henry the Fifth, actually."

Sandra smiled and snuggled into him. "Any particular reason?"

"Well, there's the prologue..."

They talked for a while, Ramone relaxing and getting used to Sandra's closeness. She got up twice more, the second time switching to a flavorful fruit and herb tea, encouraging him to do the same. He accepted happily, and enjoyed the stuff more than he'd expected. Halfway through his second cup, he started to feel a little strange. His mouth felt dry, and he took another gulp of the cooling tea. The world spun for a moment, and Sandra reached out, gently taking the cup from him.

Realizing he'd been drugged, Ramone felt a surge of resignation. "Your gon' ea' me, arenshu?"

Sandra blinked at him. "Eventually."

Ramone fumbled at his pocket, and Sandra held up his phone. "Sorry, I snitched it about an hour ago."

"Jus'...the Preda...Pre'tor...the eaty thing."

Smiling, Sandra opened the app and tapped the button on the screen that said, "I've Been Eaten."

Ramone sagged back into the couch, vision fading. "Thansh. Paren...wor 'bou me."

He passed out.

When he woke up, his arms were bound behind his back at the wrists to opposite elbows, and his legs were bound together at the ankles and knees. Something warm pressed against his back, and he had a moment of panic as his head cleared, remembering Sandra's admission that she was an active predator. But to his confusion, he seemed to be laying on some sort of blanket...on an incredibly comfy bed, now that he thought about it. he felt around behind him at the warmth, and blushed when his hands brushed soft, warm mounds with little nubs atop them. Breasts. He was touching breasts.

"S-Sandra?"

The warmth against his body stirred and scooted away, the bed shifting around under him. A hand gripped his bicep, and he was rolled onto his back to find Sandra smiling at him, eyes twinkling. "Morning, cutie."

Anger flooded him. "You tricked me!"

Sandra pinched the bridge of her nose and sat up. "Great. You're going to be one of those."

"One of...you do this often?" he snapped.

She growled, a low bubbling in her throat that suddenly reminded him where he was, and how vulnerable he was. He opened his mouth and she raised a hand sharply. "Let me get my coffee if you want to survive the next ten minutes," she said flatly.

She stood up, and he felt a blush spread down his entire body. She was naked and beautiful with it, soft curves everywhere supported by hints of muscle, breasts still pert, if not youthfully so. Far from the glamor of the awakening pornstar, she was real, her body looking comfortably soft instead of anorexically thin or heavily muscled, fur and hair mussed from sleep, eyes still groggy, tottering a little as she woke up. She slouched over to the closet and pulled out a long shirt before stalking out of the room, growling and muttering.

Ramone closed his eyes and tested his bonds. After a few seconds, he gave it up as futile, and sagged into the bed to await her return. In this position, he couldn't get any leverage to break them, and the slight edge told him he'd been bound with zip ties, so there was no point in worrying at the knots.

Sandra walked back in, holding her "MILF" mug, and wearing an oversized tee that just barely covered her pussy, and spelled out "They're Real" across her chest. She took a gulp of coffee and sat on the foot of the bed, considering him.

"Alright. Yes, I tricked you."

He shuddered, his anger fading to a sort of bleakness. "How come you didn't show up on the app?"

Sandra chuckled. "Because I registered years ago, and they just never seem to get around to updating my location or name, no matter how many times I send it in. I mentioned I've been married, right?"

He nodded and stared at the floor next to the bed. "So how come you haven't eaten me yet?"

"Ramone," she sighed, and hesitantly put a hand on his leg, wincing when he twitched, but not pulling back. "Look, I didn't plan to eat you right away, but if you're going to be all depressed all the time, I will. Would you prefer that?"

He shrugged. "What's the alternative?"

"Basically? Being a living stuffed animal."

Ramone tried to process that and failed. He turned and looked at her in confusion. "What?"

She grinned and crawled up the bed, reaching over him to set her coffee on the bedside table. He blushed again as she snuggled into him. "This. A cuddle buddy, a snuggle slave. Someone to hold at night. And," she said, giving him a shy version of her patented saucy grin, "access to that ever-ready supply of erections and sexual stamina young guys like you seem to have."

He felt a ghost of his sense of humor come back. "You have sex with stuffed animals? You perv, you."

Sandra giggled and ran a finger around his sheath, coaxing his cock tip out. "I do when my stuffed animals have such handsome cocks."

Ramone gasped as she toyed with his cock. "S-so you're just going to eat me when you're tired of me?" he felt a pang of fear as soon as he said it. "Sorry, I didn'-"

She slapped his chest lightly. "Gonna eat you right now if you don't stop being such a Donny Downer," she said, sticking out her tongue. At his worried look, she sighed. She leaned up and kissed him gently. Ramone moaned and leaned into it, suddenly unable to think about anything but the soft lips pressing against his, the tongue darting in to tease at his. Her hand wrapped around his cock as it rose to full steam, and he gasped as she gave it a couple of gentle tugs.

Pulling back, she smiled gently. "Ramone, I'm going to eat you. But can you just let that go and enjoy being my snuggle toy until it happens? Because I want a nice cuddly alpaca, not a sad, whiny dinner-in-waiting."

Ramone looked from her playful expression to her hand on his cock and back again. "I...yeah. Yeah, I can."

Grinning broadly, Sandra kissed him again. "Good. Now, how about some breakfast?"

"What, are you going to feed me by hand?" Ramone teased.

She sat up and pulled her shirt over her head. He licked his lips as her breasts bounced back into view. "Not quite," Sandra said. She fingered one of her nipples, gently squeezing her breast. His eyes widened as a drop of fluid appeared at the tip. "From now on, my little cuddle slave, you eat only the food of gods and babes in arms."

His stomach flip-flopped and his dick strained, hard enough to pound nails, as she put a hand behind his head and guided his mouth to her nipple. He sucked gently, and a little squirt of milk filled his mouth. It tasted sweet, with hints of fruit like the tea from last night, and slightly meaty. The realization came that he might be drinking the remains of another teen like himself and he shivered. The thought should have freaked him out, but instead, it was strangely erotic.

Sandra moaned and reached around his neck and down to stroke the tip of his cock. Her other hand went between her legs, and he got a bird's-eye view of her fingers as they slid into her folds, thumb squeezing and rolling her clit.

"That's it, cutie," she whispered, voice hoarse. "Drink up. Suck my titmilk down like a good little boy."

He moaned and started drinking eagerly, working at her breast with his mouth, sucking to get more of the delicious liquid out of her. Her touch was maddeningly gentle, and the sight and scent of her arousal made the milk taste sweeter.

The moment stretched out, the only sounds in the room his gentle sucking, the soft squish of Sandra fingering herself, and her panting. Before he knew it, her breast had run dry, and he pulled back slightly, going for the other on instinct. It was awkward, and Sandra laughed softly. She repositioned them so that he lay backwards across her lap, head cradles in the arm that was working her pussy, while her other hand wrapped fully around his shaft, stroking and squeezing now.

He pumped his hips, drinking from her body and more turned on than he'd ever been in his life. Sandra gasped as he felt her shaking, biting her lip as she tumbled down into orgasm. The look on her face, the taste of her in his mouth, and her grip tightening on him pulled him down with her, and he bucked and yelled out his pleasure as he shot onto his chest, face, and her breasts.

She sat back, keeping his head in place and snuggling down into the bed as he finished his breakfast. Sandra smiled lazily and stroked his face. "I think mealtime is going to be one of my favorite times of day.

Ramone nodded, still drinking the last bits of her milk. He could definitely get used to this!

~~~One Month Later~~~

Ramone moaned as Sandra rode him. The first few week that he'd enjoyed as her cuddle slut, he'd been able to fuck back, but the steady diet of breast milk combined with the constant inactivity had done its job well. His muscles had slowly but surely softened, and now he truly was just living stuffed animal, unable to move on his own without Sandra's assistance. He'd worried about that briefly, until she'd admitted that was all part of the plan.

"I like knowing that you're a helpless little toy," she'd whispered the first time he'd realized he had trouble moving. Since then, he'd simply stopped trying, enjoying the occasional massage from her to keep his blood flowing properly, but otherwise just laying still and letting himself become helpless. He'd been surprised to discover how strong she was when she simply tossed him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry once a day and hauled him to the bathroom to wash him and let him take care of his bladder.

That had been the other surprise. A steady liquid diet of fat and carbs meant that he no longer shat at all, and his bladder filled slowly as his body cheerfully applied his food to layering a comfortable pudge onto him. Barely a month since she'd drugged him and tied him up, he'd been reduced to a jiggly, succulent veal. She'd actually untied him a week ago, secure in the knowledge that he couldn't run if he wanted to. His cock provided her with sex when she wanted it, his body kept her bed warm and cozy at night, and he knew that when the time came, his flesh would be sweet, milk-fed, and more tender than he would ever have thought possible.

Sandra groaned, rolling her hips almost violently, hands entwined in the fur on his chest as she used his cock as a living dildo. At this point, she'd trained him not to come before she did, and he bit his lip, agonizingly close to the edge but struggling to wait for his mistress. Finally, she threw her head back and screamed her pleasure out, and he shuddered and moaned as his cock spurted inside her. She collapsed onto him, and snuggled, clinging to his fur as she twitched and spasmed in after shock.

"Mmm..." she moaned. "I think it's time, cutie." She looked up at him, but instead of her normal saucy manner, there was a hunger in her eyes. He realized the time had come for her to make a meal of him, but far from feeling sad or depressed, he felt elated. He'd come to adore this feisty little fox that had enslaved him, using him generously and often, feeding him with her body. The least he could do was feed her with his.

She scooped him up and carried him down to the kitchen, laying him onto the steel island. "Now, I have something I've been wanting to try for a while, little cuddle pet, so bear with me a moment."

He watched her pull out a little syringe, humming softly to herself, and inject his right thigh. Within seconds of the needle going in, his leg had gone numb. Sandra reached into the drawer and picked out a knife that had an electric cord running from the pommel. She plugged it in and the scent of ozone and warming steel filled the air.

"I just can't bear to part with my cuddle toy so soon," she said, stroking the handle. She leaned into him and kissed him lightly. "So I had a thought: instead of parting with you, how about parting you out?"

Ramone licked his lips, cock starting to harden again. "You mean eat me a piece at a time?"

Sandra nodded coyly, and picked up the knife. He could see heat shimmers coming off the blade. "I got this little beauty off a traveling salesman, along with a few other little toys. At first, I thought I'd never find a use for it, but you know what?"

She brought it down on his knee and there was a soft sizzle as the heated blade sank into him, parting his tender flesh even as it cauterized. She ran it around his leg, cutting through his meat entirely, before flicking a switch. For a second, the blade vibrated, emitting a loud whine, and then she held up his calf and foot for him to see. "No muss, no fuss, and no pesky bleeding out."

Ramone giggled softly. "A perfect predator's knife," he cheered, voice barely rising above a whisper.

Sandra unplugged it, grinning as she set it aside. "Right? And would you believe the silly Cats market it as an instant toast maker?"

He chuckled along with her as she produced a paring knife and began stripping the skin off his calf-roast. She gasped, and he wished he could see what she was looking at. He didn't have to wait long, because she held it up a second later. For a moment, it looked like just another shank of meat to him, if a little odd. It was pale and creamy, rather than red and muscular, and he suddenly realized he truly had become alpaca veal. The milk and inactivity had tenderized his flesh on the bone, and he knew right then that it wasn't merely a lack of exercise that had stripped him of mobility. It was the transformation of his body into one giant pre-tenderized steak.

"Perfect," she breathed. She rinsed his shank off in the sink, rubbed it with olive oil, pepper, and a bit of salt, then popped it into the oven to cook. As the smell of cooking meat began to waft out into the kitchen, she gently wrapped his stump in gauze.

While his calf cooked, she carried him out into the living room for a rare treat, cuddle time while they watched a movie. Often, she simply buried his face in her pussy upstairs, using his mouth to keep her awake through long nights of grading. But she'd apparently decided tonight was special, because she popped in one of his favorite films, an adaptation of Henry V, funny enough, and just snuggled with him while the delicious scent of roast boy slowly overtook the house.

The movie was two hours long, and byt the time it finished, both their stomachs were rumbling from the delectable scent permeating the air. She carried him back into the kitchen and propped him up on the table, before going to the oven and retrieving her prize. She laid it on a serving platter and placed it in front of him, turning to fetch a bottle of wine and a place setting for herself. It was the most incredible sight for the young alpaca. What had once been a part of his body was now a golden, crisp roast, juices beaded on its surface, just a hint of pepper flecked across it.

Sandra sat down and picked up a carving knife. Reverently, she cut a generous portion from his leg and laid it onto her plate. She cut a small bite from it, gave him a cheerful wink, and popped it into her mouth.

"Oh. My. Gods," she whispered. She chewed slowly. "You taste incredible!"

Ramone felt a surge of pleasure at seeing her enjoy him. She took a sip of wine and waved a hand in the air, searching for the words she wanted. "You're sweet, meaty without any gaminess at all, so tender you fall apart the moment you hit my tongue, and with a creamy, milky flavor that just coats my mouth and throat with a sinful richness."

"Wow," he whispered. "That may be the hottest thing I've ever heard."

She stuck out her tongue at his deadpan delivery and took another bite. "You," she said pointing at him with her fork, "were totally worth the wait."

~~~~~~

Sandra woke him up the next morning rubbing her pussy over his face. He obediently licked her to her peak, and in doing so, almost failed to notice the other smell in the room. When she finished, she rolled off of him and snuggled him up into her breast.

"I thought we'd have breakfast in bed together," she said with a grin, reaching over him for the covered plate on the bedside table. His cock, already hard from his morning service, throbbed and twitched when she lifted the cover to reveal a pair of sunny side up eggs, a piece of buttered toast...and a chunk of him, pan seared to reheat it. She settled the plate on her legs and pulled his cock over to point at it.

"I notice your juices have become really sweet these last couple of weeks," she murmured as she stroked his head. He gasped as she squeezed his cock and started milking it, stroking it from base to top firmly and evenly. Knowing he was being used to dress his own meat sent Ramone flying over the edge, and he squirted onto the little chunk of alpaca meat within seconds. Sandra laughed softly, and tucked his head into her breast.

As he suckled, he was treated to the sight of his meat being carved and eaten once again. The smell was so intense and alluring he could almost taste-

Wait.

He suckled a little harder and nearly came again. Her milk tasted rich and meaty, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that while she was eating him, she was feeding him to himself through her breast. Sandra caught the look of wonder on his face and gave him one of her saucy smiles. "What, you thought I was going ot let a treat like this go unshared?"

She bent down and kissed him on the top of his head. "Every bite," she whispered. "We're going to enjoy almost every bite of you, together."

~~~~~~

Over the next two weeks, she harvested him. His other calf was cut down into steaks that lasted three days. His right forearm was an Asian delight, and a fragrant alpaca burger with pineapple that came through her milk so strongly he had to resist the urge to chew on her breast. His left forearm she carved into cubes and stewed in red wine with potatoes and mushrooms, getting a depth of flavor he could smell, and lending an earthy, hearty flavor to his own meals that drove him to orgasm without either of them touching him.

She took his thighs half at a time. The lover half of his left thigh she wrapped in a savory crust and served with a gravy made from the drippings of his forearm, a Ramone Wellington that took her a day and a half to finish, much to his delight, as the intense taste danced out through her nipple and straight into his stomach.

Breakfast became his favorite meal of the day by far, the meal in which he learned what wonders of culinary delight she'd turned his flesh into as he drank eagerly of the milk his body had become. The bottom of his right thigh, especially, had been stunning: She'd roasted it with a light version of barbecue seasonings of her own devising, managing to impart those tastes without overwhelming the delicacy of the meat she was working with.

For his biceps, she decided to go Asian again, but this time with a twist: Ramone delighted in the purity of tasting his meat through her with hints of miso and rice, the fantastic and artful sushi rolls she made from him a testament to her skill as an itamae. She dined on sushi and sake throughout spring break, spending the week sunbathing nude with his torso as a pillow for her head, her favorite K- and J-pop bands blasting on the speakers as she read manga and popped morsels of him into her mouth.

His left asscheek did double duty, half of it ground and gently braised into a fresh tomato and basil sauce, then poured over homemade pasta. The acidity had been breathtakingly delicious in her milk, especially as hints of basil had come through, treating him to a near perfect recreation of the meal she'd literally orgasmed from eating. So delighted had she been with the Italian theme that she'd sliced the rest of his ass into thin strips and quick pickled it, before layering it onto three styles of pizza.

The Ramone pizza had carried them through three days, and then his other assheek had met the edge of her knife. He wasn't sorry to see it go, either; he'd felt annoyingly lopsided with only the one, a source of amusement for Sandra.

She stared at his asscheek with a hint of sadness as she placed in a crockpot with red beans and rice. "Not much left of you now, snuggle slut," she murmured.

He smiled. "Well, I couldn't last forever," he whispered. "Although I have to admit, I'm looking forward to tasting myself Cajun style!"

She laughed and cheered up. That night, as she ate, she confided in him that while she didn't usually keep prey around this long, she'd developed a taste for live butchery.

He felt a spark of delight that he could give her such a wonderful gift. "Got your eye on another boy?" he asked with a playful tone.

Laughing, she smacked him lightly on the stomach. "I am a lady!" she said, sticking out her tongue. "I would never kiss and tell."

He chuckled. "You can tell me," he wheedled. "You know I'll take the secret to my grave...well, to your stomach, at least."

"True," she admitted. She ate another bite of him, and grinned coyly. "Actually, there is this one stud at my gym I've been eyeing. I'm just not sure if he'd be better in pieces, or all at once!"

Ramone tsked. "Not even finished eating me, and you're already looking for your next meal," he teased, laughing softly.

She laughed with him and assumed a hurt air. "Well, I have to keep my girlish figure somehow!"

He woke up the next morning, happy for Sunday, knowing he didn't have much time left with her. He was expecting their usual ritual of breakfast together, but instead, she immediately pressed him into her breasts. He had a funny feeling about it, but enjoyed the slight spiciness and earthy notes to her milk, treasuring every second of his intimacy with his beloved mistress.

When he finished, Sandra rolled him onto his back and knelt in front of him. "I think, snuggle boy, that it's time for me to let you go," she said with a smile.

Ramone sighed. "Yeah," he admitted, looking down at himself, "I don't think I can make it much longer, not even as good as you are at keeping me clean and healthy."

She teased his sheath, finger idly stroking around the edge of it. "I hope you don't mind, but I plan to have one last breakfast with you."

"Why would I mind?" he whispered, cocking an eyebrow.

She lapped at the tip of him as it emerged. "Because I want to eschew my usual gustatory grandeur in favor of the simple pleasure of eating you the way nature intended."

He sucked in a breath, realizing she intended to eat him alive, ripping the meat from his body with her teeth and claws. But the thought of feeling her ripping into him had his cock up and bobbing eagerly. "Go for it!" he whispered, giving her an encouraging smile.

Sandra moaned and engulfed his cock, swallowing him down to the hilt with barely a thought. Ramone moaned softly, her tongue sliding over and around his most sensitive part as her teeth nibbled and teased. He panted, wanting to draw out these last moments, but unable to hold back in the face of her persistence. All too soon, he felt his cock twitching and spurting down her throat.

With a lustful little growl, she bit down, twisting her head from left to right, and bit his cock off while he was still cumming. Shandra raised her head and opened her mouth, showing him his favorite art of himself ensconced in her mouth, before closing it and swallowing. He shivered a little ast seeing the bulge he made in her throat, and then she dove back down. As her teeth sank into his sack and worried at it, tearing it away from his body, he braced himself for the pain.

But after all she'd put his body through, it didn't come. He realized he must be going into shock as she snapped up one of his balls, snipping the cord with her sharp fore teeth before crushing it and swallowing it. She pulled the other one off with her fingers and held it up, rolling it gently before piercing it with a claw and sucking this remaining cum directly out of it. She tossed the empty ball into her mouth like a grape and surged up to straddle him, and eager, hungry expression in her eyes.

"Good-bye, Ramone," she whispered. She kissed him deeply, and he gasped as she bit off his tongue, gulping it down before biting into his cheek. His breathing began to slow as she bit into his face again and again, ripping the meat directly from it. Her lips closed over one eye and she sucked sharply, his vision disappearing from it in a burst of light and pressure.

His last sight as his vision tunneled down to nothing was her lips closing over his other eye.

~~~Six Months Later~~~

Sandra strode up the steps to the school she was subbing at that day. She eyed the students around her stealthily, wondering which, if any, of them might find their way home to her bed and kitchen. She had decided not to commit herself to another long-term playmate over the summer, but now that the fall semester was well and truly in swing, she felt the urge to find a replacement for Ramone to keep her warm on the cold winter nights.

And it was definitely going to be cold. The October breeze curled around her jacket, trying to find it's way through to her, and she tucked it around her a little tighter, hurrying into the building.

She was halfway to her classroom when she heard someone calling her.Sandra turned to find the principal bearing down on her, and stopped politely to see what she wanted.

"Something wrong?" she asked with a grin.

The other woman, a border collie named Amelia, shook her head with a laugh. "No, you're doing a great job. I just wanted to tell you how much I admire that coat of yours," she said. She shook her head in mock annoyance. "You always seem to have the best clothes, Sandra. Where did you get it?"

Sandra grinned mischievously. "You like it? It's a custom job, made especially for me."

Amelia huffed out a laugh, and reached out to stroke the turned down collar, covered in the same soft wool as the interior. "Of course it is. Honestly, if I had your money and savings, I'd be off on an island somewhere. What's it made of, sheepskin?"

"Nope," she replied with a grin. The vixen raised her hand to stroke it lovingly. "100% domestic alpaca."