by Magnyss669
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright -William Blake
This fiction is my first attempt at a furry/vore storyline, so allow me some measure of mercy. To familiarize you, the characters are of a feline tiger/lion type morph, a tribal society possessing all the faculties of humans, but operating in most ways like predatory cats. If you are familiar with Night Warriors or Darkstalkers, Felicia is a prime example of my main characters. Failing that, Frostbyte's mascot Geena is also a model of appearance for them. I have grown rather fond of these felines in the short time I've gone from creating them; lovely, sleek, charismatic, and deadly paragons of feminine strength and grace etching themselves powerfully into the realms of my imagination. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. Again, all comments and suggestions are greatly welcomed and appreciated, they aid me in processing even better ideas to later give way to greater fictions.
The Forest had never seen a finer day. The wind carried on its back the scent of spring and warm earth, and the sultry noon rays of light diluted themselves perfectly into the breeze to create a temperature so perfect that it wasn't even noticed. The sun galloped over hills in golden pools and dust-spangled shafts that crept over the leafy carpets of green meadows, shady glades, and deep, dark thickets of brush and moss. The sagely deciduous trees that had stood for generations from antiquity spread their arms over the mossy floor and rich fields of thick grass, drifting sleepily back and forth in the lazy midday zephyrs. Dreamy columns of brilliance were peppered with the careless airy wanderings of fluffy flower chaff and weed spores as they created odd light patterns filtering down through sun-starred breaks in the emerald canopies. Sounds of the wind breathing through the fauna and a multitude of birds calling to one another perforated the lulling atmosphere, creating a sense of security and allure that settled in around the arbor like an unseen quilt. It was the type of day one spends roaming about shady green leaf-strewn hills and lush mysterious meadows in exploration and adventure. Tiring of these frivolities, one would settle down into the shade of a mighty gnarled oak and let the gaze melt off into the vast collage of broad leaves and limbs overhead as though watching the stars at night. One would dream about younger days and the adventures of youth, and perhaps absorb a little of the Forest's magic and revisit earlier, more carefree years in lucid daydreams brought on by the sun above and the shady breeze around. The Forest was in essence a world of it's own accord; having it's own territories and inhabitants, possessing dark, forbidden places of unwholesome legends as well as beautiful expanses of tree-sentried scenery meant to be kept secret from encroachers of the outer world. But the Forest was a place of Nature, and Nature was a place of adamant laws. Beauty was accompanied by survival, and survival was the paramount edict of all that would dwell in this place. Hand in hand walked the ancient instincts of dominance and the cultural provisions that allowed the civilizations of the Forest to live amongst one another in a sometimes brutal, but efficient, mixture. This was a place of solace, of sobriety, and above all else, of survival. Somewhere within the Forest's rich virescent innards, in areas of sunnier persuasions, lay a great expansive meadow of thick grass fringed only on it's outer eastern edges by the stallion oaks and spruce that merged into the rest of the arbor's greenery. The silver ribbon of a shallow brook glittered like cut crystal in the sunlight and gurgled it's way along downhill on rich fallow banks, slicing a beautiful uneven wound through the meadow's center. A few wispy stratocumulus clouds drifted in the deep blueness above, creating scattered fields of shadow around the meadow, and the breeze was cooler and more laden with outer freshness than the more recycled vapors of the inner areas. On the banks of the bubbling mercury strip running through the green field, a figure could be seen moving alongside the flow of the cold waters. The lithe, slender figure moved gracefully on all fours, feline with grace and agility and very feminine with inherent human appearance. This being was a natural inhabitant of the Forest, expertly crafted and forged by Nature to obey the laws of her home; an elegant predator. Pale green eyes were open wide with alertness and on a constant roam of her lush surroundings, scouting for trouble and directing her movement all in the same instant, while the clawed fingers and toes of her paws delicately chose their positions as she moved. A long slender tail sprang from the base of her spine over her tight, rounded buttocks, tipped by a light smudge of black like an artist's brush and curled low over the down as she paced along in the soft grasses. Its color matched the rest of her, a soft layer of tawny, sandy ochre velvet-smooth fur the gentle shade of a newborn deer. Her hair was a fantastic lengthy mane of pure yellow tresses cascading past her long tapered ears and reaching to the middle of her back when she was upright, like molten gold pulled from a smithy's furnace; feathery tufts of it's radiant color curving down from her elbows and calves. It hung in twitching wisps and tendrils about her face and shoulders like a lion's facial frame as she moved along the stream bank, caressed gently by and responding to the timid breezes around her. It's soft, luxurious length nearly concealed the pair of generous breasts swaying under her chest and brushing the insides of her arms as her shoulders kneaded the lean muscles of her back from her motion, but not quite. Finding a shallow part of the bank, the catwoman dipped her head down to smell the fresh running water, then bent her elbows, put her lips to it and began to drink, her firm heavy breasts pressing into the cool earth below her furred torso. Her hind end was still raised, tail twitching centimeters over the ground as she refreshed herself. She drank for quite some time; quickly drawing in the cool stream water past her lips as it pooled in her belly, bringing along a gratifying chill to her abdomen. It had been rather warm in the meadow during the morning and she hadn't had a drink in quite a while. But this elegant feline wasn't completely alone as she thought she had been. Other eyes were observing every action the catwoman made, measuring her movements and analyzing every slight change in stance. Cloaked by an ingenious mixture of camouflage and cunning, another predator haunted the beautiful creature's movements like a hungry wraith, it's intentions fueled by a much more savage purpose. From between the emerald spears of the thick grass that flourished in the meadow, a beautiful golden eye slid in and out of view with a quiet rustle, it's rich dandelion iris bisected by the thin coal-black slit pupil of another alert feline. A hunter, outhunting another of its own kind. The tawny catwoman on the loam stream bank sat back on her hips and shook the bounty of her hair out of her face, stretching her arms and tensing the strong muscles in her back as she glanced around warily, unaware of anyone else. The hidden predator's head rose a fraction, claiming a perfect view of its prey. It remained hunched and ready, shoulders rising and falling alternately as it prepared for the killing sprint. Sinuous curves of lean, toned muscle lay wrapped inspiringly around the frame of bones and supplying power to the hunter; muscles taught with the tensile strength of a much larger creature and toned to a perfection that rivaled the tight placement of strings on a lyre. The ivory curves of claws were extended and dug shallow furrows into the soft yielding earth below, strong veins lay mapped over the forearms and phalanges of the paws. This predator in particular was especially magnetic in appearance; a pair of taught, uncommonly rounded breasts and a short cloven furrow carved between the legs under the tail distinguishing her from larger male rivals. She sported a long fall of auburn hair tinted with sunset crimson spreading over her back and falling in front of her shoulders, complementing the subtle chocolate stripes mirrored on both sides of her cinnamon-colored back and fading away under her ribs to blend in with her white underside. Her tail was longer for greater balance and poise in hunting, and could reach down to touch her heel even if she was standing upright. This female was not only fiercely beautiful, but fiercely hungry. Her slender belly was aching from want, empty and shallow, and her ancestral instincts were providing her with the physical mechanics to see that it would soon be filled. The tawny female by the stream was still sitting upright, still unaware. She rested on the balls of her feet and her paws, glancing about herself for a suitable spot to take care of the business at hand. The huntress blinked her gold lenses once, seeing the distraction and reading the scents floating downwind for her to interpret. Everything was a tool; all would assist her to sate her feral hunger. The wan breeze, the angle of the sun, the movement and actions of her prey, even her own coloring and position relevant to her line of sight was constantly being examined and cross-examined as she planned her assault. A small twig underfoot was brutally crushed into the soft soil from the weight and tension of her weapon-laden forearm, her warm tongue passed over her sharp canines once in anticipation, a few small drops of saliva spattering in staccato rhythm onto a dried up maple leaf under her jaw. The unaware prey had settled on an earthy spot a few feet from the water and had squatted down carefully on the balls of her feet, claws giving her traction as she positioned herself bolt upright, her hands resting on her thighs as she spread her long legs wide apart. Glancing down, she absently flicked a speck of moss from her left breast where it lolled heavily against her ribs, jolting the tender mound slightly as a small stream erupted from the furrow in her crotch and she began to urinate. In the deep jade shroud of grass ten yards away, the huntress's sinewy muscles went rigid for a flash second as a tremendous amount of adrenaline and hormone was distributed throughout her blood, then she was away like a striped meteor. Her drawn claws left jagged divots as she sprang from her concealing blind, the grasses left convulsing and whipping forward in her wake. Her hair flew and cascaded about her upper body like silken ribbons with her movement, and her pupils contracted into slivers as her brain locked onto her target. Under her feet, the tawny female felt the faint but distinct temblors of rapid and ill-meaning footfalls pounding the ground in imminent proximity to her. Her head snapped up, her hair following the motion and her frosty green eyes opened wide, panning around the luxuriant greenery as though in slow motion to locate the source of her sudden interruption. The speeding huntress knew there was only fractions of seconds before her surprise bum rush was compromised and rendered useless. Her powerful arms and legs pumped with lightning cadence, her paws and claws gouging the earth as she flew toward her prey. Still squatting, the female had turned enough to pick up a speeding blur in her unclear peripheral range, and a huge bubble of fright shot up into her chest like bile. Reacting sluggishly and all too late, she feared, she turned sideways and landed on her palms, claws digging in to give her the propulsion she hoped could send her out of the attack corridor in enough time to find a tree. Too late, indeed. The huntress's powerful thighs were shot through with the stark outline of her muscles for an instant as momentum energy was harvested, then she leapt, her course neatly realigned to impact on a sure kill zone. The defender knew despairingly her feeble efforts had come to naught and watched horrified as she saw the deadly white knives of claws unfold from the dark descending blur. The eclipsed scythes of hot fangs sliced into her vision the instant before the jarring shock of impact knocked her clear out of the air, and the air clear out of her. Seconds later, when it was all over, the huntress stood on all fours dominantly over her vanquished prey, pinning the form below her securely on the waist with one paw, but the carnage one normally expects from a successful hunt did not occur. The vanquished female, having tumbled awkwardly several feet and lay cringing on the ground on her side, felt a hot tongue sweep up her cheek and the hitching exhalation of hurried breath on her face. Opening one green eye, she gazed up at her killer's face, hovering over her own with a broad smile curving thin lips. "Gotcha." Instead of getting up gracefully and dusting herself off, the slender female's eyes narrowed into a vengeful glare and she let out a deep growl as she jackknifed her body up, sinking her own fangs into her captor's arm. "Mercia, you bitch! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Mercia, startled but hardly injured, arched back and landed spryly on her haunches, a halfhearted yowl escaping her as she grinned and licked her forearm. The other female continued her scowling, though not as vehement, one paw having come to rest on her belly reflexively, her chest heaving as she tried catching her breath. "Why can't you get it through your thick skull that I have to be more careful now? You've got to stop this stalking nonsense!" "Hey, this 'nonsense' is what keeps us from starving, Fahnra," Mercia pointed out, glancing down at her companion's belly reflexively despite her careless manner. There was a slight bulge under the bellybutton where her friend's pawn rested, and it might warrant being passed off as simply the shape of her body if it hadn't been quite so prominent, but Mercia knew very well why it was prominent. She was expecting to give birth sometime in the future, and she had only recently begun to show. Even though her own attack had seemed vicious, she had taken great care in her strike not to cause any hurt that wouldn't go away in a few seconds. Fahnra sat up, her sun-splashed hair hanging in gorgeous disarray around her face and shoulders, her hand still on the bulge in her abdomen. Glancing down at her waist, she saw the sudden interruption as she'd been relieving herself had left her a little wet and soiled. "Honestly, tackling me in mid-piss, even! What's gotten into you?" Mercia took on a hangdog look; sticking her bottom lip out and turning her toe in the dirt, her golden eyes pleading. "Well, I am a hunter, and I've got to keep my skills up. Do you still love me?" Fahnra sighed and got up onto her palms and the balls of her feet, shaking her hair out, her breasts swaying along pleasantly with the motion and the coy lump in her belly tucked neatly up under her. "I guess it's my failing," she smiled. "I can never stay angry with you." "Good," Mercia crooned, moving up next to her, her eyes tracing over her companion's beautiful blonde form. "Because I found something for us to eat." "Oh, great," she acknowledged, sitting up and glancing around at the wild coliseum of rugged old trees circling them and framing the soothing blue above. "I was about to come look for you." "I'm starved, so let's get a move on," Mercia prompted, reaching over and feeling Fahnra's curvaceous abdomen under the twin shelters of her generous breasts. "Then we can get something to put in there, hm?" "Well, if you don't mind, I'd like a minute to finish what I started and wash up," Fahnra remarked smartly, pressing her belly out a little under her partner's paw in spite of herself. Mercia sighed and padded over to some tall grass, flipped her dark hair out from under her and flopped down on her back while she waited, her deep amber eyes turned skyward while she imagined shapes in the clouds and tried to ignore the hunger grumbling in her middle. Mercia was from a distinct hunter's heritage; her markings and frivolous, energetic manner aiding her in her aptitudes. Her body was shaded slightly like a tiger's, and her muscles were steely and well defined when she was active, filling out her hips and shoulders nicely when she was at rest. She was numbingly beautiful in feral kind of way, dark wingtips edging the outsides of her eyes and an inverted auburn chevron descending on her forehead from her hairline in a false widow's peak, distinguishing her as a huntress. Though her smile was sweet and endearing, those same soft lips covered long, slender white fangs and all those who had provoked her at one time or another knew it. She seemed the opposite of Fahnra, who was more of a nurturer, even though the two were rarely found apart. Her pregnancy had been bringing these traits out more prominently of late; she was graceful and serene, her body more artistic and appealing than powerful. Fahnra's one outstanding quality was her beautiful voice, it reminded Mercia oftentimes of a chorus of morning doves calling to the spirits of the wind and the sunrise all mixed together with the warm feeling of napping under a sun-crowned oak. She was a bard, and an acclaimed one. All the tribe would gather around the fires on the nights of the Equinoxes and Solstices, listening with faraway images painted in their minds as she would spin the old folktales and legends with a mesmerizing language of honey and silver dew so they would never be forgotten. Soon, splashing from the brook roused the reclining huntress from her musings, and Fahnra plodded up onto the grass, shaking herself dry and pulling back her wet swath of shimmering hair in a motion of inadvertently alluring grace. Her back arched and her voluminous breasts pressed out before her, tail swirling under her hind end as she squeezed the water from her mane and licked herself briefly. Jumping up, Mercia twitched her tail over her svelte companion's nose to provoke her into a chase, then dashed off, leading the way. "Let's eat!" Mercia and Fahnra loped at a quick pace through the sunny meadow, the sun overhead now hovering low over the elevated horizon of trees and brush, casting a ruddy afternoon hue down on everything below. Shadows were running long and darker now, and one could smell in the air a coolness pervading; night would fall soon. The two catwomen had spent the afternoon feasting heartily and sunning themselves in the descending rays of rich, calming amber light, leaving nothing but an eviscerated skeleton in the blood-reddened thicket as leftovers. It had been a trophy stag, a ten-point herd leader, and a very large one. As usual, the elder males had picked through the fresh carcass, taking most of the best portions and leaving the innards and leaner muscle to the scavengers. These were the most nutritious elements, and the two felines had been more than eager to accept their share upon arriving at the macabre scene. To their fortune, no other hunters had staked a claim on the kill. Not wanting anything to go to waste, the two took it upon themselves to joyfully dispose of the entire beast. Once their voracious appetites had been quenched, they had curled up together and allowed time for what they had eaten to begin digesting before embarking on the lengthy trip back to the village. Mercia trotted along, casting a glance over at her running companion. Fahnra panted quietly as they progressed along on all fours through the tall grass back toward the fortress of trees ahead, not wanting to take on such an accelerated pace so soon after eating, but neither wanting her partner to beat her to the village. Pregnant and gorged or not, she could still hold her own. Mercia could see the bulge that had been present in Fahnra's abdomen had grown a good degree, now an impressive sloping mound that hung lower between her legs as she moved. The two nubile catwomen thoroughly enjoyed eating; it was their secret, their symbiotic passion. Whenever the circumstances allowed, the two of them fed until they were so gorged they could scarcely move, and often it became a mounting contest between them to see who would give up first. Mercia could usually stuff away more, as her natural instincts rendered her quite aggressive; but lately she'd been getting beaten out more frequently as Fahnra's maternal cravings kicked in, and more than once the expectant mother had eaten twice her companion's share. She'd been growing slightly jealous, for she knew that Fahnra's belly and her capacity would soon far exceed her own. She groaned a little as she ran, darting sideways to avoid an ugly thistle and feeling her huge meal jostling her insides from the sudden movement, her stretched belly wobbling just a bit visibly. "Looks like this round belongs to you, Fan." "You think so? Well, I guess my stomach's finally begun to realize I'm pregnant." "Well, I can't speak for your stomach, but I sure do." Mercia was acutely aware of the heavy fullness between her own hips as she loped along, her belly packed tightly and a smile on her lips. She was at her highest plateaus of arousal after a huge meal, and for the time being, she couldn't recall the last time they had eaten so much or so well. She could feel the familiar warmness spreading throughout her taught, bulging abdomen, lubricating her inside and inspiring erotic visions of what the night might bring. She delighted in the ticklish sweeps and caresses the grasses and sedge made on her sensitive underside as she moved along, her dark brown nipples swelling up and standing rigid on her creamy white breasts. She was deeply in love with the tawny pregnant feline beside her, and that golden body often made her melt with arousal and desire; their sexual activities would often last hours into the cool darkness of the night. Fahnra felt the same way, but her own time was split between her true lover and her tribal mate, a forced copulation necessary to the preservation of the society. Glancing over at her companion's bounding breasts as she ran, Mercia picked up her pace slightly and tried to ignore the heaviness weighing her down and hoped the village wasn't much further. While she herself was strong and had a lovely body to solicit the appreciation of a legion of males, she had always been unashamed of her obsession with Fahnra's slender, elegant physique, which had been growing even more attractive to her as the pregnancy progressed. Fahnra's amplifying breasts did not lob about awkwardly on her tan chest, but would rather glide from side to side in a slow undulating waltz, her light umber nipples still shallow and dormant despite all the energetic motion they were being subjected to. She recalled those rich, syrupy memories of times when she would lie on her back in a warm patch of grass and watch admiringly as Fahnra might pace over her, those blonde, velvet-furred breasts passing mere centimeters over her face. As many times as Fahnra would let her, she would arch her back and rear up, playfully glomming onto one tantalizing mammary and pretend to suckle her. Sometimes on rare occasion, Fahnra would delicately settle herself down on top of her lover and stroke the muscles of Mercia's shoulders and the sides of her ribcage endearingly as her breast became permanently attached by frantic lips and tongue to a hungry mouth. This would often set the pair into undulating their nethers together or rubbing their legs against their vaginas, until the wet, slippery fur between their legs and vulvas would drive them into orgasm, usually Mercia. It was better tenfold when they were both full and fat after a heavy meal, their taught, swollen stomachs pressing and kneading into one another with arousing pressure. Mercia shook her head quickly, trying to will away the intoxicating thoughts before she wet herself right then and there on the run. Instead, she quickened her strides further to be back where she could play out her fantasies as soon as possible. A silky voice at her elbow drew her attention. "Do you mind slowing up just a bit? I'm getting a cramp," Fahnra intoned, her stride a little more erratic. "I swear to God, you're heartless. What's your hurry?" "Just want to get back before the others count us among the missing, and the exercise will do us good after eating all afternoon. Besides, you know what I'm looking forward to," she added with a sly smile. "Oh. That time of the month already, is it?" "No, just that time of the day," she returned. The night had turned delightful shades of swirling cobalt and black, just cool enough to enhance the sensations of the skin without bringing an uncomfortable chill, and whispery night sounds floated about in the calm darkness. Wind sighed contentedly through the chilly twittering leaves, bright-eyed owls cooed out their eerie conversations slowly, and there was just barely a sultry murmur of civilized activity below left to interrupt the serenity. The few torches and dying embers of the fires in the village combined dreamily with the fireflies drifting about; their slow cycles of brightness and dimming creating a creeping dance of drowsiness that lulled observers like Will 'o the Wisps. The two had returned to the village on the trailing edge of dusk, the sky afire with crimson radiance that merged into a mellow orange tint filtering through the leaves and casting a lulling ruddy glow about the Forest's floor. All the clan had been accounted for, and the nightly Tribunal had been short. Though she had been dutifully situated by her hulking mate, the clan's Alpha, Serrin; Fahnra and Mercia had exchanged teasing innuendoes to pass the time; licking their lips through half-closed eyes and assuming subtle poses that foreboded the activities they would later pursue. The two had slipped off together as soon as dark fell and the opportunity arose. Mercia blinked slowly, feeling halfway mesmerized herself as she gazed at the bright fullness of the moon hovering an endless distance above the dark, rustling limbs hovering over her head, the fireflies creating an odd shifting web of bright specks around the leaves. She lay with Fahnra on top of her treetop dwelling, the soft thatch of the roof warm underneath them from their combined body heat. They both lay stretched out on their backs and comfortable in the dark, Mercia's head resting between Fahnra's warm soft breasts, her thick dark tresses splayed out over her companion's chest and stomach under her like a rich blanket. Fahnra's slender arms were wrapped snugly around the striped huntress's waist, Mercia having hooked her own over top, and the catwoman's long swirling tail lay coiled affectionately around Fahnra's ankle, twitching now and again with a teasing ticklish flutter. Mercia was quite drunk with a potent mixture of contentment and fullness; there was nothing she like better than to have her back scratched and doze off in Fahnra's arms after supper. Fahnra herself was cultivating the fledgling seeds of arousal; it felt wonderful to hold her warm companion close to her in the dark. The hard bulge in her stomach lay nestled into Mercia's skin just above the small of her back, the pleasant pressure being exerted from her weight sending warm puddles of erotic sensation oozing up her flesh. "The air smells so good tonight, just like morning dew," Mercia remarked quietly, snuggling deeper between the hot twin mounds beside her ears as she felt Fahnra's swollen stomach gently raising her back as she took in a deep breath of the night air. "All I can smell is the new ficus and your hair," Fahnra purred soothingly. "But it's nice." Mercia closed her eyes, hoping Serrin wouldn't come bashing about her tree in a mad drunken search for his mate and interrupt the perfect stillness of their shared moment. Fahnra's golden voice, just like the rest of her, always put her to sleep. She could feel the gentle vibrations massaging up past her ears and neck as Fahnra purred her silent lullaby, the sensations rising and falling in crescendo as the dawn-colored feline breathed. The tremulous rumbling seemed to writhe up under her ribs, bringing her alert nipples to full attention on her pale chest, her areolas tightening into tender lumps as they grew. "Will you stay with me tonight?" "Of course I will, if Serrin doesn't notice I'm gone." Mercia sighed; knowing the chance of that was a slim sliver of impossible. Their clan leader, as pure a tyrant as could be, regarded Fahnra as his exalted trophy rather than his mate, and guarded her in smothering accordance. He was a bullish rogue of nondescript lineage, a culturally useless monolith of muscle and caustic temper. He was no fitting leader; his brain was woefully thick, his muscle tone and carriage sloppy, but it was his immense size that gave him an absolute stranglehold on the rest of the clan. His looks were intimidating and decidedly unwholesome; sporting a tremendous sagging jaw ragged with the curling tufts of his dirty grey beard and yellow tusks, his narrow black eyes sheltered under a thick neolithic brow. "Why do you insist on torturing yourself by staying with that bastard?" Mercia grumbled as she chewed halfheartedly on a bitter sprig of sedge, flicking her sharp index claw in and out, examining how quickly she could make the pearly curved hunting instrument appear and vanish. "I have no choice. You know our laws as well as I do." "Well, I was never one to follow the rules very well," Mercia retorted softly, hoisting herself up, turning over and crouching on her paws and knees over her companion in the dark. "All I know for sure is, that litter you've got in there had better take after their mother." Fahnra gazed up at her unusually affectionate lover, the dark hair falling from delicately striped shoulders pooling in warm ribbons over her own stomach. Her milky voice was uncertain for a moment, green eyes hiding secret sorrow under her long lashes. "I hope so too." Mercia leaned down, slowly letting her firm, hard-peaked breasts settle with a sharp sizzle of flesh on flesh between Fahnra's thighs as she lowered herself again, her head resting on the soft, protruding swell of the tawny feline's distended belly. She pressed into the exquisite bulge playfully with her cheek, the dark points of her ears picking up a distinct gurgle as the exorbitant meal it contained shifted. Fahnra arched her back a bit and sighed, a beautiful flush heating her cheeks and the sounds of her purring intensifying as she relished Mercia's touches. "I like that." "I know." Mercia continued the amorous snuggling into her lover's swollen belly, breathing heavily into the soft, silky fur around her navel and letting her tongue slip in and out of the petite dimple. Mercia had often fallen asleep nestled against Fahnra's stomach, but her belly had been becoming a more perfect pillow as her pregnancy wore on. That coupled with the tight, heavy lump in her own middle made her very eager to bring out the best in them both. "You're really starting to get big, Fan." "Careful," the reclining feline whispered with a husky tint in her voice, sliding her paw down her ribs and over the tender furred rise, cradling her belly under Mercia's overflowing mane as the powerful huntress tilted her long ear to listen to the soft sounds grumbling in her lover's abdomen. "Most of this is dinner, silly." "How does it feel? To have so much going on inside of you?" "Exciting," Fahnra breathed dreamily, laying her paws over Mercia's capacious mane and holding her head gently in place against her as she continued to purr in soothing invitation. "It makes me eager to grow and change. That's also why I've started eating so much; I like feeling so full and heavy. It's very sexy." Mercia turned her chin up, gazing past the twin ellipses of Fahnra's breasts into her face as she traced the subtle outer curve of the rising and falling cushion under her head. "Did you get enough to eat today? It won't be too long until you're not going to be able to hunt for yourself, you know." Fahnra laughed, genuinely amused, her tight abdomen shaking a bit. "I don't think there's room for anything else down there. Don't worry about me, I'll get taken care of one way or another. Serrin will provide what I need." Mercia snorted with a boiling disdain, sitting up abruptly as Fahnra's hands drifted listlessly back to her shoulders. "You know very well that rat's ass isn't going to lift a claw to help you, unless it means exerting just enough effort to keep you alive for his humping rights." Fahnra's musical effervescent purring died out and she turned over on her side, her face angled into the dark, deep tangle of the leafy arms of wood surrounding them. Nothing was said between the two for a moment; Mercia's hasty words had struck soundly along the scars of hidden emotional wounds. "I'm sorry, Fan. I didn't mean to bring it up, but you know how I feel about him." A pause. "Me too. But I can't deny our laws." She shuddered, a baleful slideshow of unwanted images surging up from the depths of her mind, of the first time Serrin had forced himself upon her on the very the night he'd killed her former mate. She could feel her effigy's foul throbbing member smashing deep into her untrained womanhood until she winced from the pain of it, cringing in disgust and fear as her brutal nightly rape drew to an end and Serrin roared as he blew his hot, diseased seed into her. Would if she could, she would just as soon spit it right back out. The first time had been the worst; after the ordeal was done he'd left her collapsed and alone in the dark, bleeding slightly and sobbing softly to herself until Mercia had come along with comfort. Her circumstances were unfortunate, in any realm of contemplation. Her former mate, a dazzlingly handsome male she had deeply loved, had come into her life when the clan had been in disarray after their former elder had been killed by marauding splinter groups of rogue jackals in search of new territory. A silvery iron-grey male with a mane and beard of deep sable named Donovan and his brother Raege, a beautiful vermilion firebrand with a sleek, handsome face, had stepped up to claim leadership in midst of the chaos. These two were from a rare noble breed; possessing stronger intellects as well as all the faculties of the best hunters the clan could boast of, and were quickly accepted into ascension as the alpha males. They were identified as warriors, and it was hoped that their offspring would provide the society with children that would assure territorial dominance and a place in the Forest forever. But one garish, frightful day, soon after Donovan had taken Fahnra as his mate, a hulking outcast from an outsider mercenary cell had forced his way into their lives and challenged Donovan's rule. The night turned dark and bloody as the feud between the two warriors and the rogue became a brutal slaughter no one could have foreseen; the ground becoming soaked with their blood as it turned the soil to grisly crimson mud. Fahnra herself became the hated murderer's trophy, and rule of the clan was forfeited to him, the contract of his supremacy drawn out in the drying blood of Donovan and Raege, now lifeless fallen martyrs to the laws of the Forest. Mercia winced, regretting her outburst now. She didn't want to poison their time together with even the mention of that aseptic, lecherous tyrant. She tossed her head and threw her thick mane over her shoulder, turning back to her brooding companion where she lay reclined, running her paw slowly up Fahnra's long legs and firm thighs as her half-retracted claws sifted through the longer bright gold hairs on her supple calves. She turned Fahnra on her back with a gentle unspoken dominance, lying back down on the warm comfort of her abdomen, letting her throat tighten as she began to purr an arousing nondescript massage into the flesh under her head. "I miss him, Mercia. I miss them both." Fahnra's voice was frosted with a note of sorrow, her hands once more resting on Mercia's head, holding it against her flowering stomach. She remembered with a longing regret how well Donovan had known her, how gentle and willing he'd been to please her in his care. It had been her ardent wish to carry his noble heirs inside her, not the forced offspring of such a tyrant. "I know. Me…too," Mercia said quietly, burying her face in the warm fur and delicate feminine scents of her lover. "Just relax. I'll help you forget." Bringing her haunches back and raising her hind end, she slid her face down the descending curve of Fahnra's swollen belly, trailing her lips down her shapely vulva to press them firmly against the soft, thick furrow broken between her legs. Fahnra closed her eyes and rolled her head back against her fanning spread of hair, spreading her legs a bit further apart and letting herself melt into bliss as she was nearly overcome by the welcome sensations of Mercia laboring at her sexual center of gravity. Mercia had long ago discovered that there was nothing a male could give her that she couldn't get herself by use of her tail and some creative positioning. Fahnra didn't share the entirety of her opinion, but wasn't nearly as independent, either. Raege had been the only male ever to inspire romantic interests in her, but that chance at normal love had been torn from her grasp by that damned ogre, Serrin. Swallowing back the lingering spectre of disappointment in her heart like a piece of meat, she leaned forward and began licking Fahnra's labia, the hot flesh swelling up under her tongue and drenching the tiny blonde hairs rimming it with their mingling wetness. Waxing more enthusiastic, the robust striped feline twisted her head a little, pressing her face deeper into the warmth of Fahnra's wet crotch, plunging her tongue rhythmically in between the thickened tan bulges as far as she could go and kneading the opening with her lips. Her upper teeth tweaked against the reclining feline's clitoris, sending shivers down the length of Fahnra's body as her muscles contracted in spasms. Mercia's own vagina was beginning to call for attention with a moist slippery voice, Fahnra's tail stroking the insides of her legs in a waving caress that made her begin to sweat with desire. Suddenly, her heart almost stopped and she sat bolt upright in shock with a gasp, her skin on pins and needles. A thunderous impact with her tree had caused a great shudder to run through it, leaves shaken from the branches above fluttering down and littering the thatch around them. A blood-freezing roar shattered the night calm, taking the shape of a name as it echoed garishly off the trunks and dwellings around the village. "Fahnra!" Digging her claws deep into the yielding material under her fingers and trembling with the fleet-footed rage bubbling up from having been both interrupted and frightened, Mercia ground her teeth at the sound of Serrin's brusque voice. Untangling herself reluctantly from Mercia, Fahnra caught her breath and slunk to the edge of the roof, resting back on her haunches as she peered down into the inky darkness below. The dung-grey behemoth paced about below, his wroth face turned up and his arm resting against the tree to which he'd just delivered a smashing blow. "Fahnra! Do not test me again! You are taking your own life in your hands if I find you away from my sight another night with that freak of nature!" Fahnra turned back to face Mercia where she sat with her face screwed up in dark expressions. "I have to go," she whispered. "We'll finish this later, I promise." She gave her striped lover the farewell warmth of a reassuring smile, then pitched forward and was gone into the dark below the ledge, the soft sound of her landing reaching Mercia's ears a second later. "You belong with me, woman. Not forgetting this will help you live a longer life. You will abide by my wishes, or be punished. Return home now." Mercia heard Serrin's ragged baritone berating the golden female below, then the Alpha's tones were turned to the roof above him. "I know you can here me where you're hiding up there, you pussy-chasing bitch. You'll be sleeping your last night in this village. The morrow will find you running with the jackals, be sure of that." Another belligerent impact shook her tree, and Mercia fought back the urge to hurl herself over the edge that instant and tear the beast to shreds; though the knowledge that it would be her last actions as a living being kept her from actually committing to the attack. When she heard Serrin lumbering off noisily over the carpet of dry leaves and thick dewing grass, she made her way over to the trunk of her tree where it supported her aerie. Squatting down, she arched her back as far as it would go, her still-firm breasts being elevated as she stretched and dug her claws deeply into the scratchy rugged bark and dragged them savagely down the tree with a quick twitch of her tail. She sniffed the sweet musty smell of the freshly gouged wood as she let out a small portion of her aggression, the mosaic of strong muscles rippling powerfully under the cinnamon-streaked flesh of her shoulders. Sighing at the irony of the evening, she flopped onto her back and kneaded her skull into her warm hair for a moment, passively considering masturbating to relieve the tension as she let her hands wander over her sensitive overfilled stomach, then decided against it. It would be more like teasing herself than anything that would really help satisfy her. Turning over, she loped to the edge of her roof and swung down, her claws anchoring her until she alighted on her feet nimbly in the middle of her sparse tree house. She flung herself over onto her side on the pile of furs that served as a very comfortable bed, trying to ignore the way her hardened breasts rubbed against each other and the velveteen furs underneath her. She sighed in futile disappointment once, then closed her large honey-colored eyes and not too long later, drifted off to sleep. Outside the tree house, where inside a gorgeous golden brown feline slept trapped under the oppressive arm of her sadistic mate, the bright white sphere of the autumn moon shone silently through the rough window, pooling in a forbidding icy lake of dead whiteness over the sleeping village. The moon was a silent, stoic entity, a mute observer of the entire world in its darkest and most dangerous state, where things of reality are warped and twisted by forces of the unknown and the unseen. Some distance away, in another treetop roost, another feline lay sleeping, but not a quiet, revitalizing sleep. This catwoman writhed and convulsed in her unconsciousness, plagued by a strange and frightening dream, a dream that would change her world forever. Mercia writhed and gasped dream-blurred weakness, snared in the throes of passion and fulfillment as her paws lay curled around the back of Fahnra's sunny gold head, pressing it firmly against her crotch where the tawny catwoman was finishing what she had said she would. Mercia could feel the feline's hot tongue deeply penetrating her drenched womanhood, and she spread her shapely legs wide to make room for the orgasm crashing down on her from the impending horizon of climax as her heart beat a ragged rhythm against her ribs. Abruptly, with a slow upward curl of her tongue, Fahnra raised her head and gazed deeply into Mercia's eyes, even past them, a strange look in her half-closed eyes and her pearl-white fangs glistening wetly under a sultry smile. The backdrop of Mercia's tree house interior became blurry and incoherent, as though being scattered away like ripples in a pond by some mysterious sorcerer's spell. Fahnra reached up as though in slow motion, her arm leaving a dozen twittering afterimages in the draining atmosphere. She began to stroke Mercia's full belly, running her paw up and down the smooth lump as she often massaged her own pregnant stomach. Mercia, again overcome by lust and desire, tilted her head back and sighed rapturously. Fahnra's lullaby voice roused her; somehow it sounded different. Lower, deeper, sexier. It dripped like honeysuckle dew into her ears, almost making her own seem harsh. "Did you get enough to eat today?" "What?" Fahnra ran her tongue over her lips slowly. "I'll finish what I started now, I promise." "Fan, what's going on?" Mercia suddenly felt the horrific gut-wrenching feeling of falling from a tall height and everything around her melted into an impenetrable curtain of thick black nothingness, settling like a fall of darkling water from a high mental precipice. Oddly, she felt like she was floating with that frightening weightless detachment in a sea of thick air, but she could still feel the rough floor under her back and Fahnra kneeling at her waist. Fahnra gazed into her eyes, her radiant hair drifting and billowing from some unfelt supernatural breeze, her eyes grown impossibly wide and wild over those pearl-white fangs. "Fahnra…you're…making me nervous." Her voice was tinny and small, sounding surreal and unnatural in her dream. "Just relax. I'll help you forget." Fahnra's beautiful body began to shimmer and ripple like her hair, and the golden catwoman suddenly underwent a startling metamorphosis. Her body began to sag loosely, then melt like heated butter into a spreading pool under Mercia's thighs, a pool of shining honey-colored fluid that glittered and shone like the sun and twinkled like stars of light. Mercia's eyes went wide, and she saw the pool that had been her companion twisting fluidly and coalescing within itself, part of it forming into a long, writhing tendril that curled up over her face like an observer. The vestigial tendril did not drip or lose mass as it moved, but flowed within itself, golden-amber color patterns shifting and resonating as it slithered through the air. Suddenly, Mercia jumped in thrilled surprise as she felt the warm pool underneath her behind beginning to gather itself up under her, forming a thick, hot hood that spread itself over her vulva and begin to undulate, massaging her aroused genitalia. She felt the stimulating fluid kneading her fattened labia, pressing them open and poking in and out gently as the fluid dug into her electrified clitoris with a probing pseudopod finger. Then, in a warm rapturing surge of erotic sensation, the golden Fahnra-dew began invading her slowly and steadily; flowing in a hot, thick migration up into her vagina as the puddle under her began to shrink up into itself and disappear. Mercia gasped out a long, tremulous cry of excitement. The fluid thickened itself, stretching the walls of her vagina tightly and comfortably as her sexual opening inadvertently gulped it up hungrily, and she could feel the intoxicating warmness spreading through her as it wormed it's way past her cervix and up into her belly. She glanced down with wide eyes as her shapely white-furred belly began to grow rounder and fuller with the heavy fluid invading her, now almost completely gone as the observing tendril slithered down her body like a warm snake toward its final destination below. The golden-amber tendril curled about in the air around her waist several times again before slithering up into her completely, and then it was gone with the rest of Fahnra, and her vaginal lips closed, enclosing its meal almost like a predator. Mercia lay there, squealing and gasping, her face flushed bright red as she gazed down at herself, now physically pregnant with Fahnra. Her belly was an immense dome, huge and heavy with the sweet honey-like substance that had joined with her, her fur bristly and soft on the impossibly stretched flesh of her abdomen. Colors appeared in the infinite blackness surrounding her, colors that mirrored what she was feeling, inside and out. Violets and crimsons swirled into amber eddies and created new rose-colored tints of emotion; hot, flaring flickers of red and yellow passion coiled with cool, mellow creams and tangerines of satisfaction, only to flare up into purples and reds again as her blood boiled with ecstasy. ::You're really starting to get big, Mercia. How does it feel to have so much going on inside of you?:: Fahnra's laughing voice came wafting into her drugged brain from among the colorful phantasmagoria around her. It was a soothing omnipresent echo musically floating through her mind, turning her on and turning her senses topsy-turvy. "Exciting," Mercia gasped, her eyes tearing as she gazed down at her huge pregnant abdomen, feeling the rapture of maternity that Fahnra was sharing with her. "I…like…this." ::I know. I'll stay here with you, as long as you want, but you'll have to be more careful now…:: "Gotcha…" Mercia groaned in the tide of pleasure drowning her, her long ears drooping a mite as she spread her legs and leaned forward, into the gigantic white dome that held her lover within it. She wrapped her arms around it and held her belly tightly, the rich stripes shaded into her fur violently contrasting the immense white expanse in front of her. She was literally flowing with milk and honey, her belly gorged into immensity with the honey fluid it contained, her elegant cream-colored breasts softening slightly as they waxed rounder and wider from the milk being produced within. So complete was her fullness, so comprehensive was her satisfaction, that she felt she could burst with desire and fulfillment. "Looks like I won't be able to hunt for myself anymore." ::We've found what we were looking for, haven't we? Do you still love me?:: Mercia slowly lay back, gasping a few hitching breaths as she felt the weight in her body shifting and twisting. She lay back onto her rich auburn hair in the color-strewn blackness, closing her eyes and running her hands up and down Fahnra in her mountainous white belly, the tenderness and excitement of her flesh sending her fluids squirting from her womanly furrow and an orgasm rippling through her….. …..only to tear her apart….. :: ....oh…. :: "….no…." A scream echoed through the Forest. It was a feminine scream, shrill with emotion and long with intensity. It echoed through the unfeeling darkness, swirling through the black limbs and leaves, curling up to the bright white eye of the night as the moon looked down with its usual silent incantation of disdain. Bats darted from their hidden predatory perches and scattered into the night; owls gazed around themselves with their amber gazes. Mercia sat upright in her bed of furs, a tear trailing down her cinnamon cheek and the pretty sweeps of ebony by her eyes angled down from the expression twisting her visage, her paws lying limp in her cold, wet lap. She'd awoken to a terrible sight. Her abdomen lay shriveled and forlorn, only the meager bump of her supper to console her as she felt the intolerable loneliness of loss choking her. Everything had been a lie; all the rapture and satisfaction she'd felt were imaginary, a deceiving illusion created by her wishes to provide comfort. She was back in her reality, a life of subjugation and stifled passions. Just then, something went wrong in Mercia's brain. A synapse misfired, or perhaps her instinct centers began to tweak themselves into full control of her faculties. To Mercia herself, it felt as though the world grew cold; she perceived darkness and danger all around her, much more strongly than before. No! I won't lose that passion! I'll have her inside me again, one way or another! Her instincts and the burning inferno of her carnal lust ignited by her dream raged like searing ice through her veins as she rose and slunk stealthily to her window, all her faculties and perceptions distilling themselves into a cold, cruel cocktail fueling her startling change. She mounted the sill with grace and precision uncommon even to her, then leapt far out into the murky darkness beyond. Her flight made not a sound, even when she landed expertly in the crook of an overhanging arm of oak, the broad leaves rustling only briefly from her well-distributed weight and she padded along the length of the branch like a sly shade. Her wide alert eyes were twin suns in the night; she had seemed to lose all traces of her humanity as she moved along, her muscular shoulders rising and falling as she leapt from tree to tree, nearing her destination. The night had grown strangely silent, as though the Forest was waiting to see what would unfold in this bizarre theatre act. Mercia crouched low in the jagged overhang of a veil of leaves, her eyes glassy and haunting as she stared deep into the blackness of Fahnra's window and calculated her attack. Despite the thickness of night's black shroud, she could make out the dim outlines of the two figures sleeping within and the area around them which would operate as the arena of conflict. Once again, a few minute drops of saliva fell from her lips and vanished into the darkness as she contemplated her purpose. Then, the moment was right. She sprang forward into her attack, no longer hearing the faintest whispers of hesitation that might hold her back. Cold wind whistled along her elongated airborne body as she traced a doomsday arch through the night, her aim perfect as she lanced through the window. Landing in a coiled hunch of readiness, her muscles flexed beautifully as she made her final leap, the motion that would breach the boundaries of civilization and brand her a rampant cannibal. Roused by the sudden shudder of impact wracking the dwelling, her impending target reared up in the gloom, but here again the catwoman's chemically charged body was too swift and ready. "What in the hell…." The figure turned it's head from where it crouched in the process of rising, giving her a perfect angle with which to ravage the jugular as she bore down in her descent, and once again her deadly weapons unfurled from her fingers as her attack committed into completion. Landing squarely on the shoulders of her target with a resounding feral growl, she dug her hind claws into the flesh deeply for traction as she buried her fangs into the neck. Forcing her tongue back as she bit further and further into the ragged mane and into the living flesh, her mouth was flooded with the thick musk of blood, some of it shooting out in a thin geyser to paint a broken macabre stripe across the wall. The voice below her roared once, then died away slowly as it turned liquid and grew weaker in protestation as she bled her prey, drinking up the lifeblood nearly as fast as it was liberated from the body. "You crazy bitch! Get your ass off me…I'll tear your…" Finally, the defeated prey collapsed and Mercia stood up, half crouched as though expecting another attack, blood running from her chin and claws and pooling under the beast she had just slain, her hair streaked with hot redness. The air had grown hot and musty, filled with the thick gall of gore and ferocity. Then, from out of the darkness, a thin plaintive voice broke the awful silence. "Mercia?" Fahnra sat partially upright in the darkness a few feet from where Serrin lay dead, motionless as if almost afraid to move for fear her friend might murder her as well. "Mercia, are you okay?" Suddenly, the firelight of instinct went out in Mercia's eyes like a dying candle and her eyes grew round from their narrowed glare as she looked at what she had done. Slowly, she scurried backward in a crab-like fashion until her back hit the wall and she slid down beside Fahnra, leaving a pell-mell trail of scattered bloody smears behind her. "Oh my God," she whispered, swiping quickly at her bloodied face. "What have I done?" Fahnra didn't answer for a moment. Her gaze kept shifting back between Mercia and her slain mate; between her friend and lover and the rank behemoth that had been strangling the entire clan with his insane tyranny. Even through the dark atmosphere, certain changes could be seen effecting in her expression. Mercia looked over at her friend, almost asking for her to say something. For better or worse, it would prove better than enduring the uncertainty of this silence festering in the air. Fahnra turned to her companion, getting up and moving slowly over to the bloody wreck that had been their leader. "Mercia, you've done everyone in our clan a favor here tonight, whether you believe me or not." Mercia failed for a response; she could still taste the thick tang of blood in the back of her throat. Fahnra drew her claws and began to turn Serrin over onto his back, working with remarkable speed in the darkness as she turned to her companion, her voice brisk and prompting. "We'll have to work quickly, the sun will be up in a few hours. Come on, help me get started." To Mercia's own shock, Fahnra threw her leg over the giant beast and straddled him as though mounting his penis, then leaned down with a certain smirk of repressed triumph and buried her teeth into the flesh of his chest, beginning to feed. Mercia moved over next to her, not certain what she should be thinking. She yanked on the golden feline's tail a time or two as she watched her beginning to tear at the flesh beneath her. "Fan, what are you doing?" Her own voice harbored a certain trembling quaver. Fahnra raised her head, tossing her long hair over her shoulders and glancing back at Mercia, swallowing loudly and wiping her reddened lips. "Let's get rid of him, completely. Help me, Mercia, I can't do this alone." She had begun absently feeling around her belly as if testing its strength and condition as she spoke, and it seemed clear she meant to see it filled. Mercia contemplated a moment. "But…this is crazy, Fan." "No, it's what should have been done a long while ago. You were the one with the courage to set us all free. Now, help me finish what you've started, girl." Hunching over the dead beast, Mercia began to follow her friend's lead, biting and tearing into the still-warm carcass of the dead tyrant. Pushing away thoughts of herself exploding from eating such an enormous hulk of a kill, she worked with Fahnra, separating the kill into the essential parts and began to eat. This would be their bloody manifesto, their message that the clan was once again free to choose its own leader, and the two warriors had died vindicated and not completely in vain. Over the next few hours, many changes took place in the two catwomen feeding on the slain beast, mainly in their bodies as they consumed Serrin, but also in their attitudes. They knew that their gender had its own strengths in femininity, and these abilities would see their place in the society change. As time wore on, Mercia could feel herself becoming fuller and fuller, and she was beginning to get worried the two of them couldn't possibly finish Serrin by themselves. They had already consumed him in total to the waist, now just a horrific pink-boned skeleton, but Mercia had already reached what she perceived to be her limit. Everything she was eating was piling on top of a huge meal she'd taken in already, and she was getting heavy. "I can't eat any more, Fan," she groaned with a piteous mrowl, falling back onto her behind with a thump and holding her tightly stretched stomach; it hung heavy and round under her ribs in her lap like a white fleshy watermelon, her bellybutton nearly popping forth. It made that same ripe thumping sound when she would touch it; it was so full and tight. "I just can't." "Yes, you can," Fahnra encouraged, wiping off her mouth and slowly settling her much-heavier body next to Mercia. "You can hold as much as you want to, you just have to believe in yourself." "Are you kidding?" Mercia yowled, clutching at her straining abdomen; her pale white belly so full that now she looked pregnant and ready to drop a litter. "Where are you putting it all?" "Same place you are, I'm just not afraid of stretching my horizons. That's all that's holding you back." Fahnra sat upright on her toes with a smile that could melt arctic ice, taking Mercia's paws and rubbing them slowly up and down the grand tawny arch of her enormous stomach. Inwardly, Mercia began to thrill at both of their immense sizes, starting to feel echoes of that golden euphoria from her dream as her hands explored the warm curves of Fahnra's gorged, efflorescent belly. The golden feline's smile bolstered her will, and she suddenly felt a surge of ambitious endurance. "Alright, then. Let's finish this thing." Morning flowed like water through the window, and golden whiteness bathed the two catwomen where they lay immobile on the tree house floor. Morning birds twittered away amiably to themselves, unaware of the bizarre slaughter that had taken place during the hours of darkness in which they had slept. Mercia tried to raise herself up on her elbow, but gave up the struggle after a minute or so. Her belly was so immense that it weighed her down and moved from side to side heavily if she tried to get up. It towered above her like a dome of creamy white accomplishment; even the stripes slowly fading away along her sides were skewed and out of pattern due to the gigantic bulge portrayed in her middle up to her breasts. She moaned with the exquisite pain of her unthinkable gluttony, running her paws up and down the mountain she carried in her middle, feeling the tight roundness swamping her with it's weight. "Oh, Fan, I think I'm going to die…." "Ooooo…me first," Fahnra cooed as she pulled her long mane out from under her, barely able to circle her arms around the tan gourd that had once been her abdomen. Serrin lay piled up in the corner, a jumbled collection of giant pink bones drawn clean of any recognition by the two felines as they proved their stamina and strength over the hours of early morning. They had both found the ultimate passion they had sought within him; or rather, as him within them. Now utterly filled and contented, they lay beside each other, stroking and petting the heavy mounds of flesh that proved their dominance. "Well, what do we do now?" Mercia asked offhandedly, pressing against her gargantuan stomach and hugging it gently against herself, feeling what she had consumed shifting around within her body as she tried to wrap her legs over her towering round belly. She began playing with her burdened abdomen, moving the immense sphere of food around as she massaged it with her arms and legs, a hot puddle slowly forming under her hips. "Now," Fahnra purred, sitting up and watching her stomach pressing downward and forcing her long, supple legs apart, "we become a matriarchal society." "Predator's Nocturne" is © its creator,
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