No Secrets Safe

By Avios

First the serpent told her one answer, and watched her break from it. Then he plucked the knowledge straight out of her mind, made her forget he’d said anything, and told her the other answer. That broke her too.

Then he said he couldn’t decide which horror was sweeter to experience, and if she wanted a proper answer she had best ask a higher authority. For this was one of the things which not even he knew.

What he did know, however, was what he was going to do to her the moment he caught her outside of the safety of the Great Council. She bowed, and then she turned and ran. Always she ran.

Never did she get away.

Aurelia tried to make a run for it in the wardrobe.

Amidst rack after rack of beautiful clothes, fitted for all kinds of shape and species, she spotted an open window, and a soft, starlit sky outside. She distracted Penny, asking her to fetch a dress the colour and texture of molten silver, and tried to clamber up to it, and she had nearly gotten out. Her hand grasped at cool, free air, and the world seemed so close.

And then another hand locked around her ankle, with a grip like iron, and she was yanked painfully back to earth with surprising strength. She tripped off the sill and fell on Penny, who didn’t make a sound. Aurelia gave in, just for a second, to the fear inside her, and lashed out with it, screaming and squirming in the vixen’s grip, kicking desperately. No, she cried, she begged to the universe itself. Not this. Not this. Not again.

But Penny was a lot stronger than she looked. She held the little human tight, forcing her to her feet, threw her against an opposite wall, and shut the window, latching and locking it. Then she turned to Aurelia, who cringed, expecting a retaliation. But Penny only handed her the dress she’d asked for, back to her gentle, silent self.

She was insane. A different kind than her mistress, a more tragic, sad kind, but just as mad. She didn’t even desire to hurt Aurelia, unlike almost everyone else in the world. When a normal mortal looked at Aurelia, they felt a twinge of schadenfreude . When Christine looked at her, she burned with the hunger to make her suffer. But Penny didn’t even feel it, because she didn’t feel anything except love for her owner.

Not yet, anyway. In time no-one was safe from the sweet temptation of Aurelia flesh.

Numbly, bitterly, the redhead chose a slender, swan-like dress of pure white - she couldn’t find any undergarments, but at least the dress covered her and made her feel less vulnerable - and put them on. Together, they walked back down the corridor towards the dreadful room.

Penny held the door for her as she walked in, shivering despite the warmth. And then Aurelia stopped, and stared.

Christine looked up from where she she was sat heavily, leaning against her bed. Her lower half was sprawled out, limbs splayed around the enormous soft swell of her belly. A thick, heavy mass of bulging, fluffy flesh, rippling faintly, churning around its contents. Poking from between her powerful haunches was an equally bloated sac, the original shape of her oversized testicles lost amidst the shifting mass stretching them out. Her blue, blue eyes were almost totally glazed with lust, but they saw Aurelia nonetheless, and her face broke into a delighted smile.

“Oh, adorato. Un angelo in bianco! You look… oh, you look ravishing. Come here.”

Aurelia barely heard her. She had not forgotten the horror of what the foxtaur looked like when they had first met, the gluttony, the heaviness. The ocean of fat and fur, powerful and pudgy, and even then distended utterly with over half its own bodyweight in six poor, poor souls. But to see it again, to know it was happening, to be reminded that this was what the monster did… oh, Creator. She was transfixed by the horror, every little twitch and gurgle a reminder battering down her emotions. Christine watched her eyes, and smiled.

“You’re just in time for dessert.”

The killing blow. Aurelia felt a scream of anguish bubble up her throat, but it was too frightened to come out as more than a weak moan. “Who-” she stammered, shaking with horror. “- who on earth-”

“Not from earth,” the beast said, standing up to her towering height again with a groan of effort, muscles straining around the weight. Her stomach sagged, hanging like a pendulum between her legs. “From Hell. Sent to take you from me. You should be flattered, really, they were quite lovely creatures themselves. A “Triscion”, they called themselves. Triplets, basically. Perfect jackal triplets . Ato, Imo, and sweet little Evo… oh, I’m talking about you, you know. Want to listen?” She gave her belly a sway, letting the mass gurgle as it shifted. “Aww, Evo’s cursing me again. I love you too, sweetheart.”

“D… demons? Wait, they were a T-Triscion? You… but… how? How? How did you possibly stand up to something like that?”

“Ah, I thought you’d know about those. They were. But I think I did more than stand up to them, adorato. ”

Aurelia did know about Triscion. Elite hit squads, commissioned for a colossal fee from the Birthing Forges of the Hells. A single powerful soul was split into three linked identities, creating a trio of hyperlethal bonded warriors who worked in perfect harmony with each other. She’d never met any… mercifully. “How?” she said, again. “You’re… you’re big, but you’re nowhere near as strong as a high-class demon! How could you… how could you possibly...”

“Size isn’t everything, yes. But neither is strength.” Christine licked her lips, shivering. Aurelia’s fresh, clean, unutterably delicious scent was wafting straight into her nostrils. “These poor things saw me the same way. Stupid deformed mortal mob boss, thinking her walls and her guns protect her. Imo liked the term “mortal bitch”. Charming, wasn’t it, Imo? But they underestimated me. They were wrong about who I was, and I was right about who they were. In the end, it always just comes down to that. Who understands who. And mm, it didn’t work out well for them… did it, Imo?”

She turned away, stroking the hideous swollen mass of her pudgy stomach. Aurelia shuddered, miserably trying to think. Demons. That was who she had sensed before, before Christine had come for. Had it been the same demons then as the ones who’d attacked now? She almost wished it had been. They would have just killed her friends, not done to them what the vixen had.

“They… they didn’t deserve this. No-one does. Not demons, not murderers… not even you .”

“Oh, of course.” Christine licked her fingers, her heavy, wet tongue slurping down every last atom of her conquests. “I didn’t do it because they deserved it. I didn’t do it because they tried to kidnap you and kill me. I did it, adorato, because they looked delicious . And cazzo , they were. Fucking orgasmic.”

“Whoever sent them will send more, you know.” Aurelia couldn’t deny feeling a bit of vindictive satisfaction at the idea. “Demons do not give up easy. You, you just made a very powerful enemy.”

The foxtaur didn’t smile this time, which was something. “You’re very right. I think a lot of things will begin tonight. Perhaps some endings. I’ve never pretended that what I do is anything less than monumental. I see people for what they are: living things, precious and beautiful. And ending them is enormous. Glorious… But it has consequences. I don’t pretend like I can deny that.” She took a step forwards, eyes glittering. “And yet, Aurelia, I see people for what they are. Living things like you… you’re all I think about, really. Your lives and your deaths. Mortal or Immortal. And that means I don’t fucking kid myself about what the Overworld, the world of angels and demons and magic, is capable of. And oh… it is nothing compared to me. ”

Though her smile returned, there was a snarl at the bottom of her voice. A dark hungry passion. Aurelia whimpered at the simple sound of it, and tried to turn her fear into anger. “You fat, selfish, evil-.”

She nearly got whiplash as the foxtaur yanked her off her feet, embracing her with a soft groan of delight, pressing Aurelia’s head unashamedly into the soft pillowy weight of her bare breasts. The human’s squirming only created a soft purr of delight. “You know, you’re thinking about them, adorato. You’re thinking about other people. And that means you’re not thinking about me. Which is rude, because I’m only thinking about you. ”

Aurelia tried to snarl a protest, but the cleavage absorbed all her words. Christine stroked her, feeling her slender back, cupping her soft, curvaceous rear, delighting in the gentle angles of her legs. A hand slipped lazily up her dress. Any attempts to stop the molestation were just ignored. The sheer soft weight of flesh pressed against her drove the breath from her lungs, just as Christine breathed in.

The large elegant hands holding Aurelia quivered. For a moment, the little not-human could feel the intense strength behind their gentle touch, the terrible desires driving them. Christine shuddered, squeezing her even tighter, bear-hugging her into her soft flesh as if she wanted to crush her straight into herself. And she did, in that moment. She wanted to do everything to her. Aurelia could taste the lust in every pound of the depraved monster’s multi-tonne bulk.

Her head was forced up from those heavy tits and crushed into a hungry, gluttonous kiss, lips forced apart against the larger vixen’s muzzle. Christine didn’t even let her breathe with all the passion in it.

After an entire wet, fox-flavoured minute of slow asphyxiation, Aurelia was released, to slump and shudder against the Don’s breasts. She tried to speak and all that came out was a quavering moan of dread. Christine looked down at her, and licked her lips. Her pupils were dilated, the indigo irises almost overwhelmed by the hungry black.

“You are incredible…” she breathed. “I make you hurt and it’s like you’re bathing my mind in liquid sunlight. How have you survived this long, darling, when it feels this good to make you squirm?”

The words stung Aurelia to the bone. “I’m careful,” she mumbled. “I wore a mask. I d-didn’t let people too close. O-of course, most of them aren’t total m-monsters like you. The influence d-doesn’t take hold of them quickly.”

The foxtaur giggled. “But eventually it does? You could turn the kindest person in the world into a ravening sadist just by being with them? That is.... my god. Che cosa siete? What in all the worlds are you, Aurelia?”

The human-shaped creature gritted her teeth, trying not to look at the wild, hungry eyes. “I’m… I’m not telling you.”

Christine cocked her head, very, very slightly. “Oh, aren’t you? Why? Adorato , I’m going to kill you as pleasurably as I possibly can. Not even the forces of Hell have managed to stop me. There’s nothing you can do. Both of us know this. So what’s so precious about this? Why is it so important that I don’t know your name?”

Aurelia forced herself this time to look up. She nearly melted with terror at the foxtaur’s hungry gaze, but she made herself hold it. “Because,” she whispered shakily, “B-because it’s mine. It’s me. A-and I won’t let you t-take who I-I am away f-from me. And besides, why in Creation would I? You’re going to give me everything I want before I kill you”, you told me. I give you m-my name and I’m as a good as… as...”

She swallowed, trying not to look at the soft, gurgling bulges behind Christine’s powerful torso. The colossal creature shrugged, jostling her. “I mean, ovviamente. Of course you are. Well, Aurelia, I know the names of everyone I’ve ever eaten. Every. One. That’s what makes them more than food, that’s what makes them special. And I’m going to know yours. So yes, there’s not going to be any respite when you tell you. You’re going to die in here.” She patted her curving flank, rippling the fluff around it. “But you know what, adorato? That’s not going to matter, because you’re going to tell me just so I stop doing what I’m doing to you. ” She licked Aurelia’s face, shuddering with joy and swallowing the sticky gush of saliva. “It’s how threats work in my family. Sure, after those I will take everything you are , boccone, but… that’ll be in the future. And the future is so much less fun than the sensuous, sexual, squishing present. I think you’ll find it a pretty tempting offer.”

Aurelia bared her small white teeth at her. “I will never, ever, ever let you bring more suffering into the world. Mine or anyone else’s.”

The monster grinned back, her own fangs much sharper and larger. “I see,” she purred. “That’s very noble of you. How well has that gone for you?”

“...Go to hell.”

“Ato, Imo and Evo tried that, sweet little slut. Do you see it working?”

The little redhead felt her gaze dropping. Christine chuckled.

“Just wait ‘til morning. You won’t believe how good they’re going to look on me. For now… I’ll tell you what. We’ll compromise. You can just answer yes or no. And I’ll save you from suffering for a few more minutes. How’s that sound, huh? Adorato?”

Aurelia should have kept her mouth shut. But any distraction from the thoughts of her friends was a desperately welcome relief. And besides, for all her determination and her passion and her beliefs… she was, at the core of her being, weak.

“Okay,” she mumbled.

“Excellente! ” The monster clapped her hands with delight, sitting down with a shuddering crash in front of her.Her swollen guts sprawled out, gurgling and groaning, and one heavy thigh was nearly lifted off the ground by the girth of her bloated balls. “Well then, adorato. The obvious question. Is Aurelia your real name?”

Aurelia hesitated. Then, “Yes.”

Christine raised an eyebrow. Then a hand. Aurelia blanched, scrambling backwards to avoid the promised blow. “W-wait, wait!” she stammered. “It’s… it is, it’s… part of my true name.”

“Oh? What about the rest, then?”

“Y-yes or no, you said.”

“True, true.” The foxtaur raised the hand further… and ran her fingers through her thick ringlets, purring with pleasure. “I’ll play by the rules for now. Va bene. Hmm… are you human?”

“No.”

“Are you an alien? From a planet other than earth?”

“No.”

“Are you mortal?” Christine’s eyes glittered hungrily. Aurelia nearly considered lying. But she wouldn’t get away with it, and besides, the vixen already knew the answer to this one.

“...no.”

“Immortal, then.Good. Very good. There’s a certain taste to your kind. I was reminded of it rather recently.” Christine’s womb squelched as she shook her hips. “So, what kind of Immortal? Angel?”

“No.”

“No? Huh, I was wondering. No wings, of course… but then again angels can turn them off, can’t they? Not that they could fly away from me anyway.” She frowned at an old memory, and then the smirk returned. “Well then. Demon?”

“Creator, no. Of course not.”

“Not a fan, huh?” Christine smiled indulgently. “You don’t seem to have a good relationship with them. Hmm. Sorcery?”

“No.” Sorceries were beings of pure magic, incarnations of change and creation. They were the original creators of dragons, which was in Aurelia’s (somewhat biased) opinion one of the worst decisions ever made. Their counterparts were of course-

“Inertial?”

“No.” Inertials were the opposite, ancient creatures of conservation and slow observation. They devoted themselves to many tasks, from examining and understanding every aspect of the universe to attempting to stop Time itself. To Aurelia, they weren’t much better than the Sorceries.

“No, no. Something else, then.” Christine tutted. “Clearly I have plenty to learn about the wider world outside this one. Lots to do. Do you think you’ll be able to help me when you’re padding my hips?”

“No,” Aurelia said. But she said it just a moment too late. She’d already realised, and Christine heard it in her voice. Her eyes flicked up.

“Excuse me, adorato?”

“N-nothing. It doesn’t matter. It-”

“You’re not even a very good liar, Aurelia. And I learned to watch people in the way I do by practicing on very, very good liars. What do you mean, you will be able to help me when you’re swaying on my flanks?”

Aurelia swallowed. “I… I didn’t…”

“I know how you Immortals work. I know your soul will survive for a while when you’re plumping out my hips, but I very much doubt we’ll be able to talk during that. I mean, it’s lovely, but… there was something else in your voice. Wasn’t there?”

The redhead opened her mouth and... hesitated. Christine smiled.

“Oh. I thought so. Does that not happen to you? Are you just that weak of an immortal that your soul will pop like a bubble of air in the churning morass of my guts?”

Aurelia flinched. “Y-yes,” she mumbled. “It… it will. My, my survival time w-without a body is… is a f-f-few seconds. It’s… it’s part of me.”

“Oh, that is orgasmic. I mean, I would have liked to have you there, to taunt and tease, but… I want to fucking annihilate you tonight, you know? I want you mine. I want you me.” Christine licked her lips wetly. “Why so weak? Why so delicious? What are you? Tell me. Now.”

“Y… yes or no, you said…”

“Oh, I did. Shall I say something else, then? Shall I say how long you’ll bubble away in there for, adorato? Or will you start being a good little slave?”

The little Immortal flinched as if another blow was coming. “Please…” she whispered, demure and trembling. “P-please…”

“Absolutely. When you tell me what I want to know. How could you help me after you’re melted down into slut-pudge and even your soul is vanished? What could you do? Tell. Me. Now.”

Her voice carried the weight of a thousand promised punishments. Aurelia cowered in her shadow. She felt the answers pulsing in her throat, so easily said.

“I’m… I’m a…”

She breathed in, and her senses, far beyond mortal, caught the heady scent of the predatory vulpine. And there, right in the middle of Christine’s rich musk, was the hint of other smells.

She remembered everyone the monster had taken, just to get her hands on her. She remembered the other times, the other monsters. She remembered herself.

“I’m n-not telling you anything, you psychotic bitch.” She spat the words, hurling them at Christine with all her hatred. The foxtaur did not flinch. She looked down, her smile fading, her head cocking very slightly. There was something dreadful in what lay beneath that smile. Aurelia quailed, her bravado fading again. She took a step back, eyes wide and fearful as the dreadful coldness flowed from the heart of the vixen’s soul, and-

The smile returned, like a mask, and Christine gave an indulgent chuckle, shaking her ringleted head. “Oh, my, my. First attempt and I almost break your spina dorsale a metà. You’re as good as a rippling bulge inside, little slut. It’s just a case of time. Now, take a breath. ”

“What? What do you- ufff! ” Her words cut out as she was picked up and thrown onto the bed. She staggered, gasping for breath, trying to get to her feet, and Christine stepped up next to her, paws dimpling the cushiony surface with their enormous weight. The foxtaur loomed over her prey, keeping pace as Aurelia squirmed backwards, and then crouched slightly and grasped her, stroking her face.

“If you’re really so compassionate, so amorevole , then squirm. It’ll help them digest more quickly.” Aurelia tried to question her, but the words didn’t come. She was shoved forwards sharply, between the pillars of those powerful forelegs. Above her and in front of her hung the heavy bulging swell of the foxtaur’s belly. Even with Christine’s colossal height, Aurelia would have had to crawl to pass under it, and squirm on her belly to get past the monstrosity which was her swollen, squirming sac. A dribble of fluids oozed from the thick sheath, right in front of her, and she tried to scramble aside, gasping in terror, already guessing-

Christine sat down.

Aurelia was smothered , submerged in the ocean of fox. Everything was hot and soft and unbelievably heavy. Her limbs were splayed awkwardly, her breath coming hot and weak against the enormous weight of the monster’s bulk. She could barely summon the strength to moan.

The thick cushiony mattress beneath her gave a little softness, letting her be sandwiched in relative comfort. But that was a small mercy compared to everything else. Christine’s girth spread over her, pound upon pound of fat and flesh and fur. Aurelia could feel the weight of her innards beyond, rippling, gurgling, an entire internal world which quivered against her with every distant sound of liquids. And every soft, crushing ounce of all of it had once been alive. Christine’ pudgy form was drenched in sin, and Aurelia’s empathetic powers let her feel it. She could sense the lives lost in this world-ending girth, the souls who had become jiggling flanks or stained the foxtaur’s wall. The sheer weight of deadly plumpness crushed her pristine soul. She could feel the gluttony in every curve.

“P-please,” she mumbled, lungs aching with the effort of speech. “Please… oh god, I can’t breathe, I can’t… let me out, please…”

“Let you out?” Christine’s voice hummed oddly through her multi-tonne bulk. “Sure, sure. Assolutamente. And when I do, are you going to tell me your name?”

Aurelia whimpered.

“No? Grande sorpresa. Well, let me know if you decide you’d like to breathe. Until then, adorato.”

“No, wait… please, oh Creator, please…” Aurelia tried to push up against the pressure. Her skull was already aching, her lungs burning. “P-please, don’t do this, don’t, I swear I… I… I can’t bear this, I can’t, I can’t, please…”

The foxtaur heard her. No doubt. But her only response was to adjust a girthy thigh and let the swollen belly splay out and crush her a little more heavily. Now Aurelia was even more squashed, and she could feel more deeply. The wet sloshing weight of gallons and gallons of digestive fluids, squelching and churning above her. And somewhere amidst all of that furnace of fluffy flesh… oh no.

The little human-creature felt her eyes well with tears as the struggling form of Imo, jackal-demon, Triscion and victim of Christine’s hunger, pressed against her through what must have been two solid feet of vixen body. Here was a limb, there a pressing paw. From what she could feel, he was wrapped up in an ocean of sweltering flesh, bound together, even more squashed and trapped than she was. She could sense his demonic essence leaking, inch by inch, into Christine’s flesh, absorbed as he struggled and squirmed and slowly broke down inside her. He was a demon, he had done horrible things. He and his brothers had come to Christine to kill her, and to take Aurelia back to whoever they served. But he didn’t deserve this. No-one did.

“I-I’m sorry…” Aurelia whispered feebly, pressing her face against Christine’s gut in an attempt to nuzzle at him. She concentrated as hard as she could and managed to siphon enough of her power that the words carried all the way to him. “I-I’m so, so sorry…”

The connection was two-way. In that brief instant of contact, Aurelia felt everything he felt. The heat, the unbearable heat soaked into him. The tight clenching rippling pillowy flesh squeezed him, slow, rolling waves of peristalsis oozing him slowly and surely deeper and deeper inside, a massage without end. The panic and rage and despair, the connection to his brothers - each alive as well, in the fox’s swollen sac and squelching womb - only heightening his desperate need to get out.

“Voraska p-pa ilehski... dar k’sakara…” he snarled at her in Infernal. Damned One rise again, help us...

“I-I’m sorry…” she whispered.

“Suy arvak na…” he paused, then spoke in English instead. “You’re… you’re the target, aren’t you? You made us come. You let her do this to u-us.”

“No! No I didn’t!”

“Heh.” It was a moment before she realised he was laughing; choking on fluids and flesh, but laughing. “Heh, heh, heh. It won’t matter, whatever you are. Look what she did to us. Born and bred killers. Triscion. Bound to fight together and fall together. And look at us now, churning away, going mad in her guts.”

“What do you-”

“Imagine what she’ll do to someone as weak and breakable as you.”

*

Christine groaned with sadistic satisfaction as the squirming beneath her got feebler and feebler. She’d smothered people to death before, usually beneath the bulge of someone precious to them. But Aurelia wasn’t getting such an easy end.

It was remarkable. The little human had simply ceased to exist. Not so much as a finger, not a toe, not a lock of that lovely red hair escaped the expanse of Christine’s two-tonne frame. Her paunch swelled out between her legs, thick and girthy and soft and showing no sign at all of what lay beneath. Aurelia was simply gone. The Don relaxed, crossing her forepaws comfortably, and rose above the sensations for a moment to think.

The problem was that she hadn’t expected to have her house broken into by elite demonic assassins. Or rather, she hadn’t expected it so soon. Christine had figured that she’d at least have a day or two before whoever wanted Aurelia sent someone else after her. Instead it had taken less than twelve hours for her to be tracked down and assaulted. She was a high-priority target.

That wasn’t the problem, however. Christine was already scheming on what to do about that. The problem was that Aurelia was the most gorgeous delicious little morsel she had ever encountered, Christine had spent an entire day feeling her squirm in her womb, and now she wanted nothing more in all the multiverse than to lick over every inch of her, slowly swallow her over the course of an entire night, and then churn her into god knows how many hip-plumping calories over the course of several more.

But she had already stuffed three demons into various orifices, and that meant she was not as achingly hungry as she used to be. Normally, the gluttony would be enough, the pleasure of filling all four entrances and feeling all four bulges soften and squish away in unison. But Aurelia needed to be appreciated alone.

So she would have to wait.

Now that the not-actually-human was nicely smothered beneath Christine’s belly, twitching and whimpering feebly, rather than outside where she could see and smell her deliciously edible form, the foxtaur wasn’t feeling so consumed by temptation. Christine snapped her fingers, not looking around, and with silent, adoring obeisance, Penny padded towards her. “Yes?”

“Start rubbing, if you wouldn’t mind. I want those three to be padding my hips and sloshing in between by sunrise tomorrow.”

Penny nodded, with the barest hint of eagerness, getting on her knees and plunging her entire body into the ocean of the foxtaur’s red-and-cream girth, squeezing and stroking, rolling her entire form over the powerful bulk.She liked this especially, simply because of the pleasure it gave Christine, and she had learned from years of experience exactly where to massage. Her hands weaved a tapestry of squeezes and ripples, echoing through the foxtaur’s greedy innards and aiding the squelching, sloshing furnace. No mercy. A slender arm extended out, squeezing under Christine’s thigh and pressing into her gurgling sac, shoving and squeezing at Ato as he churned away, melting into the thick creamy mass of his surroundings. With a few touches, Penny turned her mistress’ body into a mass of orgasmically pleasurable squirming sensations.

Christine squeezed her with a leg, and then took her out of her head. She acknowledged the pleasure of each of her prey, savoured it, and then dismissed it from her mind. She felt Aurelia’s little trickle of sweet suffering, and then she stopped thinking about it. Her breathing slowed, and she picked up her phone from the bedside table she’d left it on, flicking through the various updates on her organisation. A few messages on encrypted servers whizzed back and forth, and money changed hands, and people’s lives were ended or saved or used as pawns. Then Christine sent out a few more, weaving distractions and plots, gearing up for another assault by whoever wanted to take her little Immortal away from her.

Queen Melavascia Velvena. That had been the name the jackals had given her. Not someone to be taken lightly. Christine wondered idly how much she had pissed her off by taking her prey, and then taking the servants she sent to take her back. How much of an enemy had her gluttony made her? On the one hand, she was aware that she was messing with one of the most dangerous Immortal factions in the universe, and she needed to tread carefully. And yet… she rather hoped, just for the sake of her own ego, that the answer was “very, very, very pissed off.”

She’d have to see. Things promised to be fun. The foxtaur smiled at the future and the present, and wiggled her heavy hips, grinding her cauldron-belly further into her prey smothered beneath, settling in the bed. Penny snuggled into her, looking up through the forest of fluff in the hope of catching a glance. Aurelia twitched weakly. The world was at peace. Christine smiled, curling her tail around to tickle the little vixen at her gut. “Goodnight, i miei amori, Imo, Avo, Eto. I’m getting some sleep. You’ll be mine when I wake up, so keep squirming if you want to say goodbye. Goodnight, Aurelia, you little whore for punishment. Feel free to poke me awake if you decide you want to tell me your name. And goodnight, Penny. Don’t stop. Not for a second. Make them me. And you remember what we discussed when I first got back from catching her?”

Penny nodded.

“Good. Buona notte. ” Christine reclined back, making sure her paunch stayed on top of her prey, firmly and totally smothering her, and flicked a hand in the air. The lights dimmed, and all that filled the room was the soft churning of her insides. When sleep came for her, it came like it always did: soft and silent, and with dreams of everything hers.

*

Aurelia had no chances to dream. Not tonight.

The worst part was simply that she had no idea how long she’d been under there, or how long it’d be before she was allowed to move. It must have been hours, surely. Surely. She’d tried to count the distant humming beats of the foxtaur’s heart (or hearts? She had no idea how a mortal with this level of physical deformity had survived , let alone grown up huge and plump and predatory), but it was impossible to stay focused enough through the sheer weight of fur and flesh crushing her. She breathed in tiny, whimpering gasps, able to suck in a little air through the thick soft bulk. A mortal would have been half-conscious with asphyxiation, but Aurelia was not a mortal, and she was completely lucid.

Second by second dripped by, and she squeezed her eyes open and stared into the wall of soft fluffy flesh crushing her, feeling the old scream gnawing at her soul. No. No, please no. This can’t be what I am.

Thank the absent Creator that Christine didn’t know what she was. Yet. She knew she could speak up at any moment and she’d gain some relief from the terrible heat and pudgy pressure, for a while. She was tempted to do it, too, just for the thought of a few breaths of free air. She was so, so tired of fighting.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Firstly because she could not give the foxtaur what she wanted, and secondly because she would pay for those moments of relief with her life. Her identity was the only reason Christine could have to keep her alive.

So she stayed silent, as the bellyfat squished and squelched against her. She could feel poor, poor Penny a few feet away, rubbing and squeezing the ocean of her mistress’ belly, helping the journeys of the jackals towards their fate. The vixen never let up, not once, not for a second. She was utterly dedicated.

The little not-human hesitated, then reached out with her mind, probing curiously at her. It was fascinating, in a horrible way. Penny’s mind was hollow - that was the only way to put it. Her soul was empty in places where one would have will, or self-esteem, or fears and hopes. Everything was overwhelmed by the colossal mountain of her devotion to Christine.

“Hello?” Aurelia said, hesitantly speaking inside her soul. The gossamer-thin strands of the vixen’s mind quivered with surprise at a voice in her head, but she ignored her completely, continuing her squeezing rubs of what was left of Evo.

“I know you can hear me,” Aurelia tried. “I... I’m so, so sorry for what she did to you.”

More silence. Penny viewed her pity with uncomprehending disinterest. She couldn’t understand what Christine had done which was terrible, or why anyone could feel sorry for her, and she didn’t care. She was happy.

On some level, Aurelia knew she envied her that happiness. She felt guilty for it.

“You love her, don’t you?” she said, sadly, trying to shift to a less squashed position beneath Christine’s gurgling belly. This time Penny reacted, her hands squeezing into Christine’s guts, her muscles straining to embrace and adore the one person she lived for. The answer came in her passion. Aurelia, trapped beneath that same person, felt sick at such pure and perverted love.

“And what about other people? They don’t matter, because it’s only her, yes? It’s only her.”

She sensed a real response now. Outside of Christine’s flattening bulk, Penny nodded silently. Yes, the nod said. It’s only her.

“But do you… do you like seeing other people suffer? And all for her?”

Penny shrugged. This was a boring question. She liked doing what Christine wanted. Nothing else mattered, including her own feelings.

“This is going nowhere. Oh, Creator, it’s so hot and tight… Penny, please, couldn’t you just lift up her damned gut for a moment? Let me breathe? It wouldn’t stop her enjoying me. Please. Just a moment of air. Please.”

This time, Penny spoke to her.

“No. No. You said it yourself. No-one else matters. It’s only her. It’s only her. So don’t. You. Dare tell me what to do.”

And with a stunning display of determination, she blocked her mind off, sealing it away from any further attempts at communication. Aurelia was alone again. She wept into the soft swollen stomach, mumbling ancient curses at its owner, and Christine slumbered on, gurgling from deep within.

The hours passed. Penny kept herself shielded, working her hands deeper and deeper into the moaning bulges of her mistress’ prey, and under the combined assault of her massaging fingers and the foxtaur’s own devastating body, the three unfortunate demons slowly slipped towards their demise. They were tough, but weakened by the angel blood seeping through them, and they clung to each other telepathically, whimpering as one as they softened into gallons of thick creamy seed and pleasure fluids and digested chyme. They were so interlinked that they died at exactly the same moment, whimpering and sloshing and then going still. Aurelia felt Christine shift over her, a bit of what used to be Evo and Ato splurting out of her in twin dribbles of lewd fluids. The monstrous vixen knew, on some level, that her gluttonous girthy body had just claimed its victims, and it was like a wet dream for her. Aurelia shuddered, and then shuddered again as something hot and sinfully wet soaked the mattress around her legs. Poor demons. Poor Penny. Poor her. So much horror, and all from one source.

Christine.

More hours passed. Aurelia lay there, numbly, miserable. She could speak up at any moment - Christine would surely hear her - and offer to tell the foxtaur what she truly was, in return for a few minutes of freedom. Until then, she would just suffer.

But she stayed stoically silent, even as she wept and whimpered into the bulk of her predator’s former victims. She would not give in. She could not give in. Evil could not win.

And no good deed goes unpunished.

*

The next morning.

Even before she felt them, Christine always found that she knew. There was something brighter to the world on these mornings: a taste to it, a cloying, deathly sweetness in her mouth. She rose from the darkness, and before she extended her conscious into her girthy mountain of a body, she could simply sense it.

The lives which had been absorbed into it.

Of course, once she did start to feel her body, she could do a lot more than just sensing. It became pretty apparent just how much had been gurgling away inside, waiting to add to her. Oh, yes. Christine raised herself up from where she’d been lain out on her front, sighing with effort, and looked at her quadrupedal half. That was Imo. That was Harold, Lily and Violet. Sadie and Edward. And they looked... wonderful.

There was not a single straight line anywhere on her body. Her flanks splayed out, wide and heavy with the new layers added to them, and yet her plump hips still put them to shame. Her rear jiggled faintly as she swept her tail back and forth, and when she put her hand against the side of her soft paunch, she could sink it in without even feeling where the pudge ended.

Christine ran her fingers through her fur, feeling the softness, the girth. She caressed and stroked her new inhabitants, inch by inch. She shifted her bulk from side to side and examined how they hung on her, soft and heavy and glorious. Her sac was swollen with gallon upon gallon of thick, creamy, potent foxseed, and her womb bulged as tight as a balloon, a wonderful pleasurable weight between her thighs. The sensations ran through her, pooling in her loins, and she felt her paws twitch with the edge of an ocean of lust.

She stayed like that, just marvelling at herself, for nearly a full minute before she even acknowledged either of the other two people in the room. Penny was lain against her mistress’ colossal flank, curled up against her. She was still massaging as she’d been told, paws slowly sweeping over the new pudge, although her eyes were closed and her hands moving noticeably more slowly. It had been a long night.

“Good morning, beloved.” Christine spoke softly in Italian, stroking her little face. The vixen’s eyelids fluttered open, and she looked lost for a moment, before her chocolate gaze locked onto Christine’s with total devotion. Penny yawned adorably, and hugged her, hands not even able to encompass half of Christine’s heavy belly.

“Good morning,” she whispered. “I love you.”

“I know. You did deliciously. How do they look on me?”

Penny blinked, eyes not even bothering to look at the softness all around. “Perfect,” she said, as if it was obvious.

“Of course. Okay, Penny, I have to get to work. I’ll need you in a bit, though. Stick around.”

Penny nodded again, and gave the fox’s paunch one last little kiss - Christine felt it blossom upon her flank - before she rolled off the bed and retreated. Out of sight, out of mind. Now all Christine wanted to think about was right underneath that sagging softness.

She smiled, took a deep, breath and rolled over. Her stomach and bloated sac groaned and sloshed at the movement, her insides awash in the gooey, churning remains of her prey. And underneath, almost imprinted into the mattress, was a little scrap of a thing, all pale flesh and startlingly red hair and a crumpled looking white dress.

For a moment, it looked like Aurelia had lost consciousness, or even just died under the foxtaur’s bloated belly. And then her eyes opened, like a sleeping beauty, awoken by true love’s kiss. But sleeping beauties were not usually smothered half to death by burgeoning guts during their sleep. Aurelia’s eyes opened. She gasped for breath, tears in her beautifully green eyes, her lungs warring against her squashed ribs to fill her with as much air as possible. She tried to sit up, and could not, hunching over, cradling her throat as it ached with the sudden harshness of breathing properly. She didn’t even look at Christine, so desperate was she to fill her lungs.

Slowly, with wracking, half-sobbed gasp after gasp, the not-human stabilised. She rolled weakly onto her knees, shoulders heaving, and then, from beneath the curtains of her thick scarlet locks, she raised her head. Her eyes met Christine’s.

It was like a bolt to the heart. Christine’s hand nearly tore a hole in the sheet with how hard she clenched. The lust kicked her in the face, violent, brash, hungry. She hadn’t even realised how much she had been wanting to make those eyes fill with fear until she saw them again.

She shifted as well, licking her lips and loving the sheer weight of her plump body. “Good morning, adorato. Did you sleep alright? I know I kept you warm.”

Aurelia flinched, already traumatised by the dreadful memories. She opened her mouth to reply, and then closed it again. Christine felt her smile spreading.

“Oh, not talkative? That’s perfectly fine. You don’t need to speak for this part.” The foxtaur leaned forwards, gently holding the human’s head and twisting it around towards the behemoth of her body. “Just look.”

Aurelia did. Her silence broke almost instantly.

“No,” she said, her voice weak with horror. “No, oh Creator, no. Oh, you, you, you damned bitch!”

Helplessly, she began to crawl towards the fat, swollen mass which had been her friends and would-be kidnappers alike, reaching out to touch the fluffy surface. Her hand sank three inches into the bulge of Christine’s belly, a lurid squelch sounding from deep within. Aurelia’s face crumpled.

“They look good on me, don’t they?” Christine purred. The redhead trembled.

“You… you have no idea,” she mumbled, staring numbly at her girth. “You sick… I… I see them. I can sense it on you. The… death you carry. Every pound, every drop… oh, Creator, no…” she fell forwards, landing with a soft thud and a deep gloiiirng on the mound of the foxtaur’s belly, whimpering as she caressed the lost friends which only she could see. Her little weight was like Penny’s kisses, blossoming in Christine’s mind with a silent explosion of neurochemical pleasure. She felt good. She looked good. She smelt amazing.

Christine watched her quiver, and remembered what she tasted like. There weren’t words.

“That’s remarkable. And it’s like that every time?”

“Every what? Every life? Every person?” Aurelia spat the words. “Yes, yes it is. If you could see what I say, you… you would…”

She trailed off. Christine grinned. “If I could see the souls I was snuffing out, I would never stop. You know that.”

There was silence for a few moments. Aurelia straightened her dress, wincing at her stiff muscles. Christine watched her, and felt the pleasure she caused tickle her insides. Deep beneath her smile, she felt her true, lustful self raise its head and sniff the air. Satisfied? Never.

“So. Adorato. Have you given any more thought to my proposal?”

Aurelia glowered at her from beneath her lovely hair. “Tell you who I am, and die? That one?”

“Fiery little kitten. Yes indeed. The one where you tell me who you are, and I don’t need to keep... persuading you.”

The redhead trembled.

“It,” she said weakly, “it hasn’t worked. And it’s n-not going to. I will never give you anything.”

The force of her anger drove into Christine’s desire, which simply swallowed it whole. The foxtaur smirked.

“Shall we find out, adorato?”

WIthout looking away, she unrolled her girthy self fully onto her flank. WIth a squelching groan of release, her swollen, sagging balls sagged free, barely maintaining their spherical shape with the sheer churning mass inside them. What was left of Ato seemed to caress her insides with his sinful heat. And above…

Christine was only half male, but that was because she was two beings melded and morphed into one. And the male part of her, even though its mind was little more than a collection of neurons indistinguishably bonded to her spinal cord, still felt the desires of the flesh. Especially just after waking up.

Aurelia glanced aside at the lurid gurgle, and her eyes locked onto the wet, pulsing, throbbing pillar nestling against Christine’s paunch. She shuddered, and looked away, back at Christine. Christine smiled.

Aurelia went even paler.

“Oh no,” she whispered. “No, you - you can’t - it won’t fit!”

She tried to run and tripped over Christine’s tail as it swatted her legs out from under her. The foxtaur stood up, relishing the burn of her muscles as they hefted her new curves and heavy sexes, and placed a paw on the human’s back, pressing her into the mattress. Aurelia gasped, her terror blossoming, squirming frantically to squeeze out. Nothing worked. Christine flexed her toes atop the little Immortal, feeling her marvellous smooth skin beneath the swan-like dress. Aurelia’s terror bled into her soul like warm sunlight, and it pooled lustfully within her loins. She drooled, from all three sets of lips, crouching down until her balls dragged along the mattress and her shaft ground against it. The pleasure sparkled in her head. She was so full of lives.

Time to grant them freedom they’d begged her for.

She pulled her paw aside, and the little redhead tried to crawl forwards, desperately scrambling away. The frantic terror drove Christine wild, and she nearly crushed her as she slammed her soft, fattened gut down atop her, smothering her in the groaning ocean of her former friends. Aurelia wailed, her suffering spiking as pure pleasure inside Christine’s head, and the foxtaur squeezed her tighter below her.

“You make me want you this much, and you have the palle cazzo to whimper that it won’t fucking fit? Aurelia, adorato… haven’t we done this? Don’t lie. I know when you’re lying. ”

She rolled the huge slabs of her hindquarters forwards, thrusting her swollen member along the silky cloth, Aurelia screamed, the sound muffled, but nothing could stop the lusting beast which was Christine’s loins. With a wet, sodden sound of bare, dripping flesh on flesh, Christine made first contact.

She was right. The redhead’s tender nethers spread like snow before a white-hot flame, almost seeming to melt around the invading force of the foxtaur’s cock. Christine sank eight inches into her before she even felt resistance, and she just kept going. Organs displaced, muscles squished, and Aurelia stretched .

It was perfect. Every inch suckled on her like the sweetest, lewdest kiss she’d ever stolen. The quivering, squeezing tightness of the little inhuman seemed as if it was going to try and suck her in by her shaft, and instead all it did was lap over every inch and let Christine’s heat bleed into it, squeezing, squelching, slurping over every virile inch. It was utterly perfect, and she barely noticed when her swollen balls grazed Aurelia’s thighs and she had no more to sink inside. For all her simpering and whimpering, the redhead’s sex had swallowed every inch of her with the greed of a veteran nymphomaniac.

Not that she actually wanted it. The little sluttery screamed, the sound muffled by her assailant’s fat paunch, kicking and flailing and pushing with what little freedom she had. Her weak punches only oversensitised Christine more. She didn’t even start slowly. She couldn’t. Aurelia’s violated anguish drove into her brain like a steel spike of raw ecstasy, and the foxtaur tore her cock backwards, shuddering as the perfect warmth of that sweet tightness was replaced by cool, teasing air, and then slammed it forwards again.

And again, and again. In seconds, she was going full tilt, her flanks jiggling, her pillowy rump heaving, her hips bulging with effort as she fucked Aurelia with all the strength of her unholy desire. She squatted and spread her legs and lifted her tail, shuddering as her own sex (brimming over with the dribbling remains of yet more of her delectable adoratos ) met the cool air. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. Aurelia squealed with every thrust, her lungs somehow managing to breath under the assault. The room nearly echoed to the sounds of it.

“ STOP!” The voice broke straight into her head, since Aurelia’s mouth was smothered beneath her belly. With it came a clearer contact, and an even greater flood of pleasure. Christine leant down and seized the mattress in her fists, tearing it apart with her joy.

“STOP! C-CHRISTINE, PLEASE! YOU CAN’T! PLEASE, DON’T, I’M G-GOING TO BURST, OH, GOD, STOP!”

Every word burned into Christine’s loins like fire and ice and godhood. She snarled, leaning down until her chin brushed the pillows and driving every ounce of her colossal strength into hump after hump after wet, thumping, suckling hump. Any mortal would be ruined. Even Penny, who had undergone several surgeries and implantations just so she could pleasure her hyperendowed mistress more completely, would be broken by the sheer power of Christine’s thrusting hips. But Aurelia did not break. Her soft, vulnerable, sweet flesh bent and stretched, clinging to every steaming inch of its invader, and though she sobbed and clawed at the fox’s belly, the feeble noise breaking off every time Christine hilted (as air was driven from her lungs to make way for several dozen pounds of pulsing cock) , it fit inside her as snugly and deliciously as if she had been moulded for it.

“Oh… yeah?” the vixen hissed back, speaking out loud and knowing her little slut would hear. “Stop? In you? Oh, no... adorato. FUCK no.” She shuddered at another wave of pleasure, her words broken up by her panting, straining slams . “You... fucking dare… to tell me… it won’t… fit? You have… any idea… how… well… this… fits, you little... fucking… whore?”

Slap, slap, slap. Slowly, even the cries of protest faded, and Aurelia began to make little gurgling noises instead, her hands reduced to feeble pats against the fox’s flanks. Christine shuddered to feel them, redoubling her efforts. The bed creaked as her slab-like hinds sank and sank, again and again, and the sheer friction nearly burned her belly. She could only imagine what her smothered little lover was suffering.

“P-please… stop… p-please, oh, Creator, no…”

“Stop? Stop?” Christine hit the edge so hard she saw stars, but somehow, she managed to grind and skate along the rim instead, groaning as her balls twitched, desperate to pump their load out. She hunched over her little slut, covering her like a bird of prey, feeling the desire burn and bubble in every inch of her body. “Tell me your name, Aurelia. Tell me who you are.”

“I… won’t… no…”

Christine slid herself back out, and back in again, building up speed for the final hurdle. Her shaft squelched and slurped with every thrust, bubbling torrents of fluid spilling over her crushing belly.

“Tell me,” she hissed.

Slam.

“...please…”

“Tell me.”

SLAM.

‘... you don’t… I can’t… please…”

“TELL. ME.”

SLAM.

“...you d-d-damned monster…”

Christine hung inside her, shuddering, teetering, growling. Her swollen sac sloshed with residual momentum. Her libido grappled with her cold logic, desperate to release.

“I’ll rip it out of you along with your life, adorato.” And she gave in.

Aurelia screamed, and the foxtaur did too. Hot, boiling shivers ran up and down her body, avalanches of pleasure pouring forth as gallon upon gallon of thick, once-living seed exploded like a torrent from her shaft. With Christine hilted so hard inside that tight sweet little inhuman, there was nowhere to go, and her stomach bulged, pushing up against Christine’s far larger gut, the pressure splurting out lewdly against the fox. It was as if Aurelia had eaten someone herself… and in a sense she had. The sticky, sloshing remains of a hundred lives mingled and rippled within Christine’s gravid balls, and the thick ropes splurted free. She felt the gush as her female sex splurted out, drenching the mattress, her rear and legs, and Aurelia’s twitching feet. There went Evo, or some of him.

It felt so good. The little redhead seemed to take every pleasure and amplify it, like a microphone to your every gasping moan. She was gorgeous. She was orgasmic. She was so, so… hurtable.

Soon.

The orgasm lasted half a minute of hissing, snarling, rutting ecstasy, load after load after glorious, life-laden load spewing up from Christine’s furnace sac and flooding her prey's insides. When it was over, Christine lay atop her, letting her own heavy lungs slow and steady, enjoying the aftershocks of joy shimmering over her. Only once she had consumed every last ounce of pleasure that she could did she roll over and slide free. Aurelia didn’t even gasp for breath this time. She slid off the foxtaur’s softening pillar with an obscene, lewd pop, collapsing in a heap against Christine’s sticky, stained belly. Her nether lips still gaped slightly from their dreadful punishment, leaking a little of the fluid she’d been stuffed to bursting with. She curled up, drawing her dripping dress around her, crying feebly. Christine let her, her afterglow too pleasant to disturb. This was one of the very, very, very few times in her life when she didn’t desire something more than what she already had.

After it had faded, and the old hungers were beginning to burn again, she spoke. Gently this time. Friendly, the only friend in Aurelia’s whole world. “I’ll make it worse. Do you really think I’ll run out of ways to play with you?”

Those beautiful, tear-glazed green eyes raised, curtained by matted, sodden hair. Aurelia wiped a trail of bubbling, creamified lives from her face, and met the foxtaur’s eyes.

“Sooner or later, you little slut,” Christine purred. “Sooner or later. You can’t suffer forever. Save yourself from everything you’ll make me do.”

The little slut looked at her, dripping, bruised, helpless, and her eyes widened. She breathed, very gently. And then, she began to laugh. Weak giggles spilled over her soft kissable lips, thick and sultry from her sore lungs. Even here, she was beautiful. It was feeble, broken, mirthless laughter. But it was laughter.

Christine felt her smile cooling. She cocked her head, very slightly, and spoke gently. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Y-you, too…” the little Immortal spluttered back, her giggles still going even as her tears began to flow anew. “You’re… you’re good at this. I didn’t even think about it until y-you said that.”

The foxtaur smiled indulgently. “Think about what?”

“Time. You’re wrong, and y-you know that. You can’t just keep screwing me until I tell you who I am. Because you won’t wait that long. You can’t keep yourself off me.”

“Can’t I?”

“No. You can’t. Every time you look, you’re hungrier. I can see it burning in you. You want me. And it’s… it’s getting stronger, too. Have you noticed? I know how I… how it works. The power p-power I have. It sticks itself in you, and it feeds pleasure to you when I suffer. And the more you enjoy it, the more pleasure I give. It’s a feedback l-loop, with… with n-no limit. The only way y-you’ll be satisfied is when… nnngh… i-is when I’m utterly gone. So I don’t have to resist you forever, you see. I just have to r-resist you, f-for longer than y-you can resist yourself.”

Christine looked at her. Idly, she wondered whether the little thing’s face could stretch around her quite as sweetly as her nethers did.

“Well done,” she chuckled, mirroring the redhead’s maddened grin. “It has been so long since I’ve had real body-and-soul fighters. No offence to Ato, Evo and Imo, but… they folded like little pudge-puppies the moment I blew them a kiss. You, adorato, you are worth it all.”

Aurelia brushed her hair back, shuddering as her fingers came away sticky. A tiny twitch of the lip, a smile. Pride. Oh cazzo, how did the little redhead do this? How did she just keep getting better?

Christine smiled wider, and blinked sharply. The radio in her skull buzzed.

“Penny? Come in here please.”

*

And just like that there was no more laughter.

She’s bluffing.

Aurelia looked at the foxtaur, all her terrors and her fears (and enough internal damage from foxcock to hospitalise a mortal) flooding back into her. She’s bluffing, she thought again.

Right?

With a soft click, the door opened and Penny walked in, looking straight at Christine. “Yes?” she whispered.

Christine smiled tenderly at her. “ Vieni qui. Come to me, adorato .”

The vixen seemed suddenly sunlit, delighted. With quick, lithe, light steps, she danced to them, leaping onto the bed - avoiding the wet puddles of Christine’s pleasure - and embraced her universe with desperate delight. Aurelia looked at her, and then at Christine.”

“You’re b-bluffing,” she stammered. “You wouldn’t.”

Christine stroked between Penny’s ears. “Is that a wager, Aurelia? Because I’ll bet your name against it.”

“No. No, you wouldn’t. You - you wouldn’t do that. Not to her.”

Penny looked at her, curiously, then back up at the foxtaur. “You wouldn’t do what to me?” she asked, innocently.

Christine stroked her again, kissing her on the nose. “It doesn’t matter. Or at least, it doesn’t have to.”

“No. No, I won’t. I won’t, you’re bluffing.” Aurelia felt herself crumbling. “You’ve g-got to be.”

Penny glanced at her again, and then ignored her once more. Christine was what mattered to her.

Christine, smiling, leaning, nuzzling. Christine, licking. Not gentle, tender licks. Hungry licks. Possessive licks.

Predatory licks.

Aurelia saw the smaller fox go tense, her tail frisking nervously. She didn’t squirm or struggle, but simply hung in the larger fox’s arms, face tensing with concern. “W-what are you doing?” she said. “You’re not… you’re not… you’re not doing this right. You’re doing it like- like you’re going to-”

Christine hushed her, licking deeper along her neck, suckling on her ears. It made Aurelia sick to watch. “You… you can’t e-expect m-me to b-believe that, right?” she said, weakly. Christine ignored her. Penny didn’t.

“Believe what?” she said, quivering in the fox’s grasp. “ C… Christine, I don’t like this.”

“Hush, hush. You’ll be with me. For ever, and ever. You’ll never leave my side.” Christine chuckled. “Or should I say, my sides.”

Penny gasped, softly, looking up at her. Horror stained her gaze.

“But who… who will… who will be you? Who will find them, and, and entice them for you? You, you need me for that, don’t you?”

The fox-monster’s deep indigo eyes glittered with mad tragic glee. “I know, I do. I don’t know how I’ll survive without you. It doesn’t matter now. We’ve talked about this before, haven’t we?”

“C-come on! This is too far, i-it’s not working. It’s not! It’s - just let her go, d-damn you!”

Penny clutched at Christine, lips trembling. “I don’t want. I don’t to leave you.”

“You won’t be.”

“I will! I won’t know you, or see you, or hug you. You can’t… you can’t want to...”

She didn’t beg or plead or threaten. She knew how well that would go, of course. Aurelia couldn’t tear her eyes away. Christine licked the little vixen again, purring. “It’ll be smooth, and gentle. I won’t let it burn you.”

“I don’t care about me! It won’t burn me, but it’ll… it’ll take me from you. Is it because of her?” Penny said, quivering against her. “Did she, did she do this?”

“No. Well, partly. She set it off. But you know I’ve always thought about it. It’s because of you. Don’t think about her. It’s just you and me, remember?”

She wouldn’t, Aurelia thought. She staggered as a wave of terrible nausea crashed through her, nearly toppling. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t.

Then why was Penny so afraid?

The two of them were a relationship built on lying to other people. Two strange lonely little foxes, together since childhood, against a hostile, delicious world. They would not lie to each other. They would never lie to each other.

“You… wouldn’t…” she mumbled, feebly, unsurely. Christine kissed Penny again, holding her against her throat, and looked at Aurelia again. Her eyes were calm and soft and without so much as a speck of remorse. Penny looked as well. Her chocolate irises simmered with mute fear. Pure, perfect, pristine fear.

Aurelia broke.

“Stop,” she said, and oh, it was so easy to give in. “S-stop, okay. I’ll t-tell you, I’ll tell y-y-you. J-just s-s-stop. Not h-her. Absent C-creator, n-not her. Please.”

Penny’s frightened eyes vanished as Christine smothered her in her plump cleavage, her person-fattened tits swelling around the little thing’s head. She shivered, stretching her tail out.

“You want to know how close she came to the point of no return, adorato? How close you let her come?”

“No. No, no…” Tears sparkled in her, stinging her eyes, but she could not cry yet, not until Penny was safe. She couldn’t. “Don’t… I wasn’t. I wasn’t. I didn’t want… this...”

“No, you didn’t. Why else would I do it to you?” Christine stretched, groaning as her stained, soft belly squelched over the bed. “She’s safe. For, oh, the next few minutes. We’ve got time, haven’t we? So then, dear little Aurelia. Tell me. Who… are… you?”

Aurelia bowed her head, breathing in. She had struggled against so many things in her lives, but there was nothing harder than raising your head again when you were broken.

She raised it.

“Leya. Lady… Leya… Aurelia… Hopesoft.”

( And somewhere, far away, someone else gasped very quietly.)

“Leya.” Christine caressed the word. “Ley-ah. It’s beautiful. And a Lady, too. I would curtsy, but your friends made me too fat.”

Leya looked at her miserably. Penny shifted. Christine arched an eyebrow.

“Lady of what? Come on, Leya . Do I need to chide you every step of the way?”

“No.” She didn’t even manage to summon a snap back. “No, you don’t. Look. You… you know about Immortals, don’t you. Angels, demons, magic… all of those.”

“Yes.” Christine was leaning forwards slightly.

“Okay. And... what about... above them? Above them all?”

The fox blinked, slowly. She said nothing.

“You mortals... always got it wrong. We didn’t create the world. We didn’t even create the things you worshipped us for. It’s the other way around.” She gestured feebly. “We are made to be… concepts. War. Love. Music. Whatever. We are... incarnations of these things. Living, breathing ideas. ”

Christine looked at her, silent as the grave.

“And not all of us…” she clenched her fists, holding back the agony of millions of years, “are good ideas. My name is Lady Leya Aurelia Hopesoft. And I am… the Goddess of the Hunted.”

No response.

“Not the Hunt. Not the Hunter. The Hunt ed . It is my role to… to embody all those in all the worlds, who are preyed upon. The weak. The defenseless. The innocent.” She looked at Penny, her eyes full of tears. “I am the personification of all those who lose everything, and all for the gain of another.”

Christine was like a statue.

“That is why you only need to l-look at me to want to hurt me. It is what I am for. I exist to act my role perfectly: to be the plaything of all life. I have enough power in me to start a new sun, and all it does for me - all I can ever, ever, ever use it for - is creeping into the minds of others and tempting them to take me as their own.”

Silence.

“That was why the mask and the suit, back… back at the warehouse. No-one is safe from wanting me. Give me enough time and I will corrupt an Angel, I will break a dragon, I will turn an Inertial against itself. Everyone, sooner or later, is my Hunter. And I can’t stop it, of course. No more than I could stop you from acting on it. It’s what I am.”

She sank back into herself, feeling cold and drained. She fought it, she denied it, she ignored it. But it was always true. This was who she was.

“So there. T-there. That’s who I am, you sick monster. Now it’s your turn. Let Penny go.”

Christine did not.

The fox buried in her breasts burrowed a little deeper, and Leya swallowed uneasily.

“I did it. I gave what you want. L-let her go, now.”

Christine did not. Instead, she spoke, very quietly. Her voice was so soft it was almost childlike.

“How long have you existed?”

Leya shrugged. “How long have living things eaten other living things? I can’t keep track. Billions of years, probably. When I started to live I wasn’t even intelligent. It’s been a long time.”

“I see.” Silence. “A goddess of being killed? How does it work? Do you live on? Have you somehow escaped every single time?”

“No.” Leya laughed, bitterly. “Oh, Creator, no. You don’t understand how it works. Gods… well, they can die. It’s… not easy, usually, because they’re strong souls, and they have fallback plans, pieces of them scattered across the world, cultists to save t-them… but not me. You think m-my soul is strong? I do die. Oh, I die every time. But there has to be a Goddess of the Hunted. Gods have to exist. It’s a… a mechanism, a pressure valve, in the universe itself. I have to exist, and I have to suffer. So I die, utterly, totally, completely. I die. And then, in a few days… I come back.”

She swallowed, feeling the lump in her chest almost burst her ribs apart. “Or… someone does. Someone who has my name and my memories and is me. I tried to find out once. I went to the God of Knowledge at a Great Council, and I asked him, when I die… am I dead forever? Has my life been utterly stolen? And the new me, the one who comes back… is that a new soul to suffer through everything, and all because of me?”

“And?”

“He didn’t know. Oh, he toyed with me, made me whimper, made me cry. But he told me that he did not know. No-one does. Either my life is short and full of agony, and every death condemns a new consciousness to being me... or it is long enough to last for aeons of it, and I will never, ever, ever escape.”

Christine stared solemnly at her, and Leya looked back and wanted to cry for the rest of time. She still didn’t know which possibility was worse. “There. That’s me… “ adorato.” The only thing I could’ve taken with me, and you took it too. Now. Please, please , let Penny go.”

“Hmm?” Christine was still serene and distant. She looked almost shellshocked. “Ah. Of course.”

Without even glancing away from Leya, she let Penny’s shapely form drop to the ground, where she landed in a heap, shivering and whimpering. Leya ran to her without even thinking, and the monstrous mafiosa let her. She simply kept watching, not even blinking, as the little goddess helped her fellow victim stagger to her feet. Penny quivered against her, holding on for dear life, staring up silently at the monster who had finally shown her true colours. And still, Christine only had eyes for Leya.

“Can’t you at least look at her?” Leya said, bitterly, forced to lean against the vixen to support her. “She, she needs you, damnation! You used her to get to me, you can a-at least acknowledge her! Penny? Penny?”

Penny didn’t respond, still looking straight at Christine. The Don gave one last, lingering, dreadfully hungry look at Leya, and sighed, giving her head a little shake.

“Si, si. I’m sorry, adorato. You’re very distracting, you know. I mean… oh. Cazzo. Cazzo dell'inferno. A goddess. An actual goddess , and not just any goddess. Oh, mio dio. ” She giggled, uncontrollably, running her fingers through her hair. “Okay, let’s just get things out of the way first. Penny?”

Penny flinched in Leya’s arms. She looked up at her universe, quivering, fearful. Not again, her eyes said. Christine smiled gently at her.

“Well done.”

It was as if Leya was holding a different person. In a single instant, all the fear and tension vanished from Penny, so quickly it seemed it had never been there at all. She squirmed out of the little goddess’ grip, eyes bright and smiling, and leapt straight into the foxtaur’s embrace, nearly bouncing with joy. Leya stumbled back, her mouth dropping open. Never had so much happiness given her so much horror.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no. T-that’s impossible! You… you wouldn’t do this! You w-wouldn’t lie t-to her!”

“You’re right,” Christine purred, wrapping the little vixen in her arms with the same terrible, heavy tenderness. “We don’t. But we’d lie to you.”

“But… I was… I was with you a-all night! Under t-there!I was listening!”

“Leya. Oh, sweet, little Leya.” Christine purred the words. “I don’t need you to tell me everything about you, you know. It took us exactly thirteen sentences of conversation, back in the warehouse, to tell me that you could withstand suffering yourself. Of course, I didn’t have any idea just how experienced you were at it.” She giggled, shimmying the point where her womanly hips melded into her powerful lower half. “Mmm. Point is, adorato , you needed more encouragement than being pinned under my gut for the night. And someone like Penny: sweet, innocent, and so terribly ruined by me...” she stroked between Penny’s ears. “You’d do anything to save her, wouldn’t you?”

Leya’s astonishment had turned cold and miserable and heavy. She hung her head, trying to stop herself from shaking. She had thrown the one thing keeping her alive away, and all for a lie.

“So while you wriggled and twitched inside my sex - feeling utterly orgasmic, by the way - I thought of exactly what to say, and while you took that shower, just before our cute triplet friends arrived for me, I told Penny exactly what to do. I’d known from the beginning we’d need it. And it was... exhilarating for both of us, really. This is the first time we both get to play a role. And I have to say, Penny, mio, tutto mio… I think we killed it.”

Penny squirmed around in her arms, nestled against her, and looked at Leya. There was no cruelty in her eyes, but no sadness either. Just the naiive contentment of a job well done. Leya looked back, and then at the foxtaur herself, who had never stopped looking at her. There was a peaceful silence between them, the calm before the storm.

“Of all the things you’ve done,” Leya said, quietly. “I think she’s the worst.”

The foxtaur grinned, and kissed the top of Penny’s head. “Oh, Adorato. Don’t say that now. Let me give you some experience of the other things I’ve done.”

Gently, she released the little vixen, who gave Leya one silent backwards glance, and skipped off the bed, retreating away. The two of them were alone. Predator and prey.

Christine stretched sinuously, her tail flaring out, her neck cracking as she worked it over. “No more,” she said. “No more holding back. No more saving you for later. No more games to make you give me who you are. You sweet weakling little belch-to-be. You dared to try and deny it to me?”

She took a step forwards, running a wet pink tongue over her lips. Leya began to back away.

“P-please,” she stammered, barely able to form words through her fear. There was a slight sharp twinge in her scalp, as if someone had just pulled one of her luscious red hairs out, but she couldn’t think about it. All she could think about was the monstrous fox. “Please, don’t - don’t - I’m sorry, I… I…”

Christine giggled. Her thick, heavy flanks swayed with each movement, bulging with the lives they had taken. Her sheath still dribbled, and Leya’s aching insides twinged with fear. “Sorry? A real, living deity, helpless before me? And not just any deity, the one most perfectly suited to bubble and broil and burn for me in all of creation? Just by existing outside of my gut, Leya, you will never be forgiven. Just by not being mine from the second you first drew breath, you’re judged guilty. There are no sorries, no middle grounds. No matter if you scream them with your last breath. You gave me your name because I couldn’t rip it from you the second we met. Now it’s time for everything.”

She drew in a raw, hungry breath, and the little goddess could have sworn that she saw all the way down that dark throat to the doom it promised. Leya took another step back and slipped on the sodden, sinful puddle of seed Christine had pumped into her. The bed was dripping in it. She fell painfully, whimpering and it was like the starting pistol. Christine leapt on her, wrenching her up and hugging her until she couldn’t breath, squeezing her back until her bones shifted, crushing her into her plump, fattened tits and starting to lick with the force of a madwoman. She tasted her in wet, squelching slurps, slathering her face, teasing the delicate shells of her ears, running through her hair. Leya tried to squeal in protest and Christine’s tongue slid between her plump delicate lips, wrestling her tongue into submission, lapping her palate, tasting her teeth. And all the while she moaned, deep, rumbling, raunching growls of obscene pleasure which started deep in her lower half and bubbled up her throat, spilling out through their locked lips.

They broke apart, and the foxtaur swallowed greedily, sending every last sweetness she had licked away down, down, down her gullet. She brushed a few errant ringlets back from her brow with one hand, the other grasping firmly at Leya’s own gorgeous locks. Painfully hard.

Leya winced at the sharp tugs, and Christine shuddered as the pain caused her pleasure. “Oh, sweet little pudge. You were telling the truth. You really could corrupt an Angel with this.” She paused, breathing in the sensations. Her eyes seemed to be growing darker, and the wave of evil, gluttonous, lustful intent which poured from them stung Leya so hard she saw stars from it.

“Just imagine what you’re doing to me.”

She pulled the little goddess up by her hair and unlaced her ragged dress, tearing it off her with casual disdain for the beautiful fabric. For less than a second, she admired the naked deity: her creamy, utterly satin-smooth skin, the perfect ripe plumpness of her breasts and ass, the gentle softness of her belly, the way her hair hung over her delicate shoulders. Then s he pushed her prey away and bodyslammed her onto the mattress, smashing her into into it face first. Leya groaned, trying to get up, and her hand slipped on some of the hideously thick puddle of creamy ex-person on the side. She fell on her face again, trying to push forwards and away from the fat greedy monster behind, and then she froze.

There was a sensation wrapped around her feet. It was pleasant, really, like stepping into a hot bath, Wet and soft and sleek, enfolding her delicate ankles, wrapping around each and every contour of her toes, sloshing softly against her calves. Except that Leya knew exactly what it was.

She looked back, and Christine looked at her, her eyes a brilliant deep blue, shining with ecstasy. She was bent down, hindbody crouched and upper torso leant down until she was one straight line from ass to nose, with the delicious deity at one end, sliding in. Her vulpine muzzle was wrapped around the little redhead’s feet, her cheeks bulging slightly with the weight in them. Leya could feel her teeth prickling at her sensitive skin. But not biting. She was going down whole.

The foxtaur rolled her feet around her mouth, suckling on them. The sensation was unbearably ticklish, and Leya gave a giggling whimper, shuddering involuntarily. It was enough to break her out of her frozen fear, and she tried to pull out of the wet, slurping cave.

It didn’t work. The jaws locked tight around her ankles, nibbling at her sleek pale flesh. Christine could not speak, but her eyes closed softly. The message was clear, even if Leya didn’t know it already - even if she hadn’t known it for a long, long time. She was delicious.

*

No, no, Christine considered faintly lapping and slurping over the deity’s feet. “Delicious” wasn’t quite right, Christine thought, “Perfect”? “Unbelievable”? “Orgasmic?” No, none of them went far enough.

Leya tasted like a supernova.

The sensations arced across Christine’s tongue, soaking into it down to the core, and her nerves almost burned out with the pleasure. She’d thought it was good when she was licking her and kissing her, but this was different. This was having her. And it felt like what it was: claiming a fucking god completely.

Curiously, she swallowed, a long, slow, greedy gulp which oozed the little prey-slut’s feet from her mouth into the soaking, squeezing abyss of her throat. There was that wonderful sensation of stretching, of her body shifting to accommodate a new part of it… but just like everything else, it was newly incredible. Her throat opened like a dream, and Leya’s every touch was like the single caress which separated her from climax. It was good. It was so, so, so good.

Feeling almost mesmerised, unable to even try and master the sensations, she swallowed again, claiming the little goddess’ knees. Now Leya was really beginning to wriggle, kicking and jerking, trying to crawl forwards on the mattress, even attempting to force the foxtaur’s gluttonous jaws apart. She was clearly well practiced at it, but so was Christine. The foxtaur laughed in her throat, mockingly squeezing back until her teeth nipped at Leya’s flesh, and then, just for good measure, she swallowed again, a sharp, punishing, gurgling gulp which dragged the squealing little redhead half a foot backwards into her swollen gullet. Now the vixen’s nose was inches from that soft, plump, perfect rear, the sweet, immortal scent of it driving her wild. Playfully, she flicked her tongue out, running it between two squeezed-together thighs to taste the scent between them. Her sex tightened with pleasure at it. Leya gave an adorable little yell of panic, twisting around to look at her. She looked gorgeous from this angle, breasts just showing, pillowy ass right in front, a few dribbles of cream still oozing free from her half-ruined sex.Christine felt her sheath growing heavy again. Almost a pity she wouldn’t be able to fuck her again, once she was gone.

Oh well. She’d grind against the pudge she left. She’d wring every last gram of delight out of her. She’d ruin her until everything she had ever been did nothing but pleasure Christine. She’d make her… her.

That thought, that all of this gorgeous beautiful innocent life was just going to end as hanging fat padding her already fattened form, only made her harder. She moaned, the sound coming out as a wet, slurping, bubbling growl, and forced her tongue all the way up between the redhead’s thighs, tasting the sweetness and the delectable heat therein. The remains of Christine’s orgasm still plastered Leya’s thighs, sticky and sweet and sinful, but through all of it the goddess’ own taste still shone through, and it was like galaxies of pleasure. The supernova was bursting inside the foxtaur’s mouth, again and again with each and every second.

It was not enough. She licked and slurped and made more ungodly noises than she’d made when she plunged every inch of her heavy heft inside Leya and slammed it in and out again and again and again, but it was not enough. She had to make her hers.

Christine began to grind herself against the bed, groaning softly with spasmodic joy, and swallowed again.

*

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck fuck fuck no no NO NO PLEASE NO NO NOO

It was real. The terror crashed over Leya in great wracking thunderclaps. It was real. She was prey.

She twisted and squirmed, feeling hot flesh ripple over her toes as the last echo of the fox’s swallow nudged them deeper into her greedy darkness. Every gulp travelled over her in a wave, pulling her further in. Her plump rear was pressed into the fox’s lips now, swelling out to either side, and the area between them was lapped and slurped over with all the romantic gentleness of a true and eternal lover. The fact that she was squirming for her life didn’t change that.

It would have been pleasurable, too. Leya was a deity, and she felt everything far more keenly than anything mortal. But the fear flooding her just turned the horrible sweet slurps of her still-aching nethers into another layer of invasive, savage horror. She was being taken in every way she could imagine.

She screamed, beating her little fists against the mattress until they bruised. “NO! NO, PLEASE! F-FUCK’S SAKE, P-PLEASE, PLEASE, I’M BEGGING YOU, YOU, YOU, FUCKING MONSTER, NO! NO, ABSENT CREATOR, NO!”

It only gave the fox more pleasure. She knew it would. It always did. In all her millions and billions of years of being murdered by everything, Leya had never once convinced anyone to stop. Not monsters, not demons, not mortals, not Inertials or Sorceries or even other Gods. She tasted far, far, far, far too good.

But it didn’t matter. She was scared. She was so, so, so scared of that wet, sweltering furnace and the chute which squeezed her inside. Gods were bound to be what they were. Gods of love had to love. Gods of war had to fight. And gods of prey had to squirm.

She twisted round to look at her backside, soft and splayed out against the fox’s relatively slender muzzle. She had a pretty curvaceous rump, and to look at it she wouldn’t have thought that Christine could possibly cram it inside her maw. But Leya knew better. The softness of her plump cheeks could squish, and more importantly, the softness of the foxtaur’s greedy maw could stretch .

Oh, Creator no, no, no… no, please, no...

She collapsed, exhausted with the weight of her squirming, panting into the mattress. Right on cue, the fox gave another greedy gulp, and her lips began to stretch over the heavy, soft weight of Leya’s rear. Just one more reminder of her doom.

“P-p-p-please,” she moaned, face still pressed against the mattress. She could just see how the fox’s body was deforming and stretching around the bulge she made. Those heavy breasts, fat with their stolen lives, were nearly pushed apart by it, dangling pendulously on either side of the fat, vaguely feminine swelling. It was horrifying.

Above it, Christine’s eyes flashed with playful mockery, Please? her gaze purred. A goddess in my guts, and all she says to stop it is please? Go on, adorato. You can do better. Show off for me.

“P-please… please… don’t… I, I, I don’t want t-this, I don’t w-w-want this, please…”

The eyebrows waggled playfully. A small part of Leya wondered if Christine had specially practised with them, solely so that she could communicate with people while her mouth was full of them. Probably yes. This time the message was I’m listening. Go on, little slut. Beg. Beg me. Maybe I’m feeling nice, huh? Maybe this time, the world will give you just a little while longer before the dreadful abyss.

And prey always, always had to have hope.

There was another suckling, clenching, heavy swallow, and with a series of wet squelches and lurid groans, Leya’s rear was swallowed up entirely. The foxtaur’s throat was colossal now, a sick fat mass of rippling, squeezing clenches. Every movement Leya made sent shivers and jiggles down the plump, gravid mass, and needy, growling glrssssches from far below them. The little deity screamed.

“PLEASE! OH, OH, CREATOR, P-PLEASE! I S-SWEAR, I’LL, I’LL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU, I PROMISE I-OH G-G-GOD NO, NO, PLEASE JUST NO NO NO, no, no, no… no…”

She slowed to a halt, shuddering in horror as the heat spread over her hips. Gulp. The fox gave a soft groan of exertion and delight, the invasive of her tongue forcing its way up inbetween Leya’s thighs, slurping up the sweet honeyed taste there and the rich remains of her climax. Even orgasm wouldn’t stop her claiming the people she’d churned away.

How could she fight against someone like this? How could she exist in a world alongside a monster who glutted herself like this? How could she live at all? The little goddess screamed as another gulp sent her navel between the fox’s lips, her soft, trim belly lavished until she shuddered and giggled in macabre ticklish agony. Christine giggled too, the sound wet and bubbling through her squishing rivers of fluid oozing her prey deeper into herself.

The answer came to Leya through the inferno of fear and horror which happened when an Immortal’s emotions exploded out of control. She couldn’t live in a world with Christine. She couldn’t survive it. The foxtaur was simply putting things right and wiping her off the face of the world.

Leya felt the clenching ripples of another swallow, and gave a weak, unworded wail. She was reaching the point where all the languages she knew started to break down and all she could do was whimper and squeal. She could feel her fear flooding down the fox’s gullet with each slurp and squelch and swallow, electrifying her, soaking her in raw, unrefined pleasure. Driving the mafiosa to remove her from everything.

How must she feel, her taste spiralling and peaking with every frightened gasp she took? How did her curves bulge and stretch the fox’s gullet, packed in so tight she couldn’t even feel air pockets, just the soft pillowy rippling embrace of flesh?

“I didn’t w-want this,” she mumbleded, whimpering as sharp teeth prickled below her breast and her fingers clawed uselessly at the stained mattress, too slippery and smooth for handholds. “P-please, I didn’t… I didn’t w-want any of this. I didn’t, I didn’t want t-t-to be me. I didn’t w-w-want to exist like this… I just… all I’ve e-e-ever, wanted, C… Christine please oh Creator no - all I’ve wanted is t-t-to be… to be free… please… please don’tnooooOOO!”

Her tits were mashed greedily into the fox’s maw, nipples stimulated into hardness by the squeezes and squelches, and the sudden sultry heat made her squeal with sensuous alarm. She threw her head back to yell, and suddenly felt the cool wetness of a vulpine nose nudging the back of her head. It breathed her in with a rapacious moan of pleasure. The little goddess tried to make a sound which escaped the normal boundaries of what a human voice was capable of.

“No,” she moaned, clawing at the mattress, squealing as the fox begin to lift herself up again and it fell out of reach. “No, no, no, no, no nononono PLEASE NO!” Christine was back on her feet, her upper body raising slowly and cruelly to its normal, upright stance. Gravity was against her now, and the little redhead screamed out loud as she felt herself dislodge from her crushing-tight perch in the fox’s gullet and simply fall six inches into the fox’s gullet. She only stopped when her arms hit the sides of Christine’s mouth.

The sense of vertigo was incredible. Suddenly the soaking bubbling flesh which encased her tighter than any lover didn’t seem nearly as firmly holding. Her senses were screaming at her that she could fall at any moment. Down, down, down into the abyss of that gut.

You’d think that after all the times she’d died, the Goddess of the Hunted would get used to it. But she never did. That wasn’t how deities worked. They could learn over their lives, but they could not change themselves. They were made to be what they were. And what Leya was, was delicious, doomed, and utterly terrified. With her taste slathering the fox’s maw and her fear popping inside her mind like a thousand tiny orgasms every second. What she was, was perfect.

And she was going to die.

“Mmmmmmrr…” came the gurgling purr from all around. The message was just as clear as the monster’s eyebrows had been, and Leya sobbed as she heard it. It meant: Ready to say goodbye, adorato?

Words broke down, and she couldn’t even stammer a response. She simply whimpered, wriggling and shifting and shaking so hard her muscles ached in the fox’s gullet. The vibrations soothed the stretched muscles, adding another level of pleasure to Christine’s ecstatic devouring.

“Mmn?” Even through the heavy, plump weight of an entire person in her throat, Christine managed to make the growl sound mocking. Not even a “no”? It said. Awww, have I scared you that much? I did like talking to you, but maybe you’re better like this. Maybe this is what you deserve.

Okay, some of it might have been Leya’s own thoughts coming through.The little goddess whimpered, pushing against herself and the fox’s gluttonous greed at once, and failing on both fronts. She was doomed.

“Nmmph, n-n-nggh, n-n-n-no, no… no… no….”

“Mmrgrgh.” There we go. The laughter made the slick walls rub against Leya’s body. She was slipping further in, her arms pressed against the side of her head, as wet hungry foxy jaws slipped softly over them.Her hair spilled out to either side, teeth sliding softly into the edge of her vision. The sight alone sent her into palpitations. And then Christine caught her in the clench of a swallow, the power choking every scrap of breath from her lungs, but didn’t drag it down. She just held her, stroking the bulge of her body with both hands, swaying her body lazily to hump her still-sticky shaft against the new fat weight of her gut.

She snarled softly, and lifted one hand up to her open jaw.s Leya saw it coming, and couldn’t even raise her own hands to defend herself. She just stared, tears and saliva running down her face, and felt the soft strong fingers gently caress her cheek, feeling her cheek. It was the sensuous, tactile equivalent of a last look at her face - the best Christine cared for.

Leya gave a small squeak, sounding for a moment like every small, doomed, delicious animal which had ever lived.

“P-plea-”

The fox groaned, her eyes fluttering, and set the swallow off like an orgasm, pouring down the waves of peristaltic muscle down her long greedy gullet. Glrrk, glrrrrk, schhhrllrlrlrssssssss. And the little goddess went with it.

Hot, dripping, clenching flesh rose up over Leya’s face, smothering it, snatching away any sensation of the outside world. She tried to scream, and it bubbled against her face, every single inch of her skin gripped with lurid closeness by Christine’s gullet. Her hands gripped weakly at the foxtaur’s lips for a few seconds, and then they were dragged in as well. Darkness rolled over her in awful, sweltering, roiling waves, dragging her deeper and deeper in. Claustrophobia blossomed in the little goddess like a flower opening, and she screamed, panic overwhelming her as gluttonously as the fat fox had gulped her down. Her frail form rippled and wriggled, useless, passionate, desperate attempts to fight against the powers squishing her further and further down. She was doomed.

*

She was doomed. But it didn’t stop her squirming .

Christine screwed her eyes shut, rolling forward in slow, rhythmic full-bodied pumps, feeling the little form slip deeper and deeper. The rippling churning bulge was past her breasts now, the fat weight of them sliding slowly back together as the enormous distension passed and her surgically altered ribcage settled in place. She reached down to the union between her upper and lower bodies and pawed at the swollen flesh, as masturbating. Instead, she was just caressing the squirming mass sliding past, rough enough that Leya would be able to feel it. With a bubbling, marshy squelch, the little sluttery’s face slid past, and the foxtaur could just feel those pert little lips stretched wide in a smothered scream.

It felt like a trail of pure lightning down her gullet. She felt the gush as her female sex splurted out, drenching the mattress, her rear and legs, and it still wasn’t enough to satiate her. She humped the fat mass of her paunch, dreaming about the lake of acids bubbling impatiently for its meal, as the little inhuman was bent nearly in half bending around the curve. Every spot of her throat was pulsing with sensuous, glorious joy. She hadn’t even noticed how hard she was until she gave a particularly firm thrust and the fat heavy weight of her shaft squelched stickily out from under her gut. She wanted more pleasure, she wanted to soak every orifice in it. She was drunk on deity.

Slowly, like a kiss in reverse, something deep inside her stretched open and began to admit the tight, perfect, slutty little form of her goddess. The fox’s throat was clear, and she gasped greedily for breath, tasting hints of Leya’s scent still in the air. She gulped them down, wanting to claim every part of her. She climaxed again, and this time she had a voice to snarl with.

“FUCK, y ou little fucking slutguts … goddess of my paunch … little one, little bulging moaning crying whimper-whore , little shredded soul of MINE . Là andrai. Hush, adorato. Mine, mine… mine. Good. Get in there.” She giggled wildly, slumping onto her side and then rolling over , rippling back and forth in slow, orgasmically sensuous ripples which stretched and squeezed every muscle in her until she splattered her swelling belly with a gallon or so of creamified demon, and stained her tail again with another splursching gush. Slowly, slowly, she felt the little deity slip from her gullet into her gut.

The fox groped her breasts needily, the inferno of delight dimming a little in the afterglow of her twin orgasms. But it was still there. It would be in her head as long as Leya was alive. She gave a little shimmy of her lower hips, feeling her fat cheeks jiggle and jounce gloriously, and was rewarded with a plump heaviness from inside. Good. She was still full to bursting with the load those would-be-assassins had made.

Time to kill a god.

*

All that the god herself could think about right now was trying to breathe in the hellish tightness, hot, tight, squeezing flesh smothering every attempt she made. She barely noticed the sudden freedom of her legs until she was in up to her thighs. And then that became all she could think about instead.

She screamed, bubbling away most of her breath in a lusty howl of horror. The tight darkness swept over her face and squished it away as she spilled inside, the slurping sphincter glomming over her as if wanting a taste for itself before she landed in the foxtaur’s belly.

Leya wriggled, and clawed, and howled, but she was utterly helpless. And that was where she landed.

It was waiting for her.

The chamber was horribly large, but still cramped and tight, forcing her to curl up inside. Every movement she made stretched the soft, pliable flesh of the fox’s belly, pushing it out and out and out, but there was no limit, and a squeezing churn forced her back into a tight little ball. It was painfully hot, like a furnace, like the door in front of an oven. And it was full, almost to the brim, with a bathtub’s worth of thick, gooey, groaning bubbling liquids. Leya gasped, pressing herself up against the only air pocket to gulp lungfuls of the sweltering air. She was submerged in the cauldron of the fox’s gut, cut off from the outside world by muscle and fur and feet and feet of pudge, and all of it was made of people who had found themselves in the same place before her. She could feel their fear and despair, soaking into her, bubbling in her divine soul. They had been gurgled away here, liquefied slowly into the thick lake which sloshed over her and siphoned away to pad that obscene ass a few more inches. Her pure, sweet little heart wept at it.

The rest of her was more concerned with how the liquid was starting to sting her.

First delicate parts, the ones already sore from being smashed, smothered, slurped, squeezed and swallowed. Her skin simmered, the heat seeming to build beyond the sauna-humid sweltering furnace it already was. But it spread. Inch by inch, she started to broil inside.

Leya screwed her eyes shut, trying to withstand the horror of it. Digested, she thought, tears burning her along with the acids. Just say it. Digested. Killed. Murdered. Gone. Hopeless. Each word hissed inside her mind like hot iron in snow, but she tried to hold it there nonetheless. She tried to come to terms with her own death, and accept there was no way out. She tried to hope that maybe she would come back as her, not just a new person who happened to think like her.

She failed. Terror isn’t rational, so why would it listen?

Instead she just screamed, spluttering on thick, turgid mouthfuls of acrid liquids, churning the mess around her, trying to scrub herself clean of the greedily clinging mass, clawing uselessly at the sealed-tight entrance above her head. The fox’s gut clenched, a slow, rolling rippling bubbling contraction like two titanic hands, kneading her, squeezing her down into the mulching mass, submerging her in simmering hell. The stinging was worse. She was starting to soften already, she could feel it, her plump perfect curves becoming even squishier, her body weakening. Oh no, oh Creator, no, no. She wriggled, caught in a blind panic which knew no end. Wriggle, wriggle, wriggle. Squirm and push and kick and wail and listen to the distant groans as you push up against that belly, and give her such a show after dinner. She knew the fox was practically creaming herself just watching her swollen paunch bulge and ripple. It was the worst part, every time. That everything she did to try and escape her fate only made her more suited to it, pleasured her killer more. And that even though she knew all this, she was too weak to do anything but scream and writhe and beg.

She sunk again, shuddering as another wringing squeeze pressed her deeper into the mass of churning, groaning fluids. This time, there seemed to be no air to return to, and she wriggled desperately, clawing in the boiling, rolling blackness, gasping for breath and choking on gooey liquefied flesh and fur until finally she found somewhere to press her mouth to and suck down tiny lungfuls. This was hell. No, Leya had been to the Hells. This was worse. People could survive hell.

She squealed miserably, feeling her flesh starting to meld into the churning sticky mass. She was going to die, burning, bubbling, screaming and simmering. She was going to die.

Suddenly her world upended, sending her spinning against into the hellish depths with a cacophony of gllrgsgsh s. She howled, barely able to tell which way was up, her wails turning into bubbling groans. The fox must be turning over.

She didn’t think about it, too concerned with trying to stay level and breathe in the brimming pit of enzymic juices. And then she realised that the fox’s paunch was pressed against the ground now, flattening her even more. And something was squeezing into it, through layers of pudge and muscle.

“Oh… g-g-god… n-n-no… nssgglrCHSH!”

The fox’s first humping thrust was slow and languid, and sent the roiling mass churning like a whirlpool, sucking Leya down into the hottest part of the liquid furnace, stealing her words from her. And then it began to get harder.

Last time Christine had fucked her, she had almost killed her. This time there would be no “almost.”

*

Even when her colossal bulk was empty of unwilling passengers, Christine’s stomach hung heavy between her legs, thick layers of fat swaying deliciously with every movement she made. People. Every ounce of it was people, and the thought alone made her wet with desire. But with someone in it, she bulged like a snake. She swelled. The gravid mass of her paunch hung low and huge, and everything below her waist felt hypersensitized from the pleasure of it stretching her. And of course, having a great soft mass directly in front of her shaft made for… easy access.

She thrust forwards again, groaning softly as she felt herself rake the little goddess inside her, pressing her against her belly walls and dragging her along, slowly kneading her down into nothingness. Oh, it felt incredible. Leya’s cries and whimpers - she could hear them, even through the groaning sloshing sounds - were music, and the feeling of her soft sweet little body slowly liquefying was beyond sensation.

She hunched over, bracing herself against her hips, and began to thrust at a steady, slow pace, breath deepening as she shifted two tonnes of bulging flesh and fluid. She was tempted to thrust until her guts went silent and still - end her, make your pudge, your curves, end her now - but that’d be too easy. Leya needed to be savoured. Every part of her.

So she humped herself, sheath swelling and the slick pillar of her shaft sliding free again, closing her eyes and sinking her perception deep inside herself to feel each and every tiny hand pressing against her inner walls, hear every choked sob, sense every shuddering squirm. Slowly, savagely, glorious, she wrung the deity out inside herself.

“Oh, darling… adorato… be mine. Be me. Slip away, give in, why don’t you? Let me break everything you are, let me have you begging to be made me, because being you is so dreadful - yes, oh fuck, yes that’s it, wriggle - nngf - just like that - and being me feels so, so… so good…”

“I… I can’t...” came the weak reply from deep, deep inside. “P-please… please, please, I can’t… I’m not… I can’t give in. Not to y-y-you, you… sick, vile, c-c-cruel, cold heart-” her little voice cut off as she was plunged back under, spun around like a rag in a washing machine. Christine didn’t mind. She listened to the gurgling groans anyway.

It took hours. The foxtaur climaxed a few times, but they were small ones, little splurting squelches of joy when the little goddess inside her wriggled particularly hard, or mumbled something particularly delicious. She was patient, and she was very good at pacing herself. Slow and steadily, she destroyed her prey cell by cell.

Cazzo, how many calories were packed in that sweet curvy little slutform? How fat would you get from eating a god?

She bit her lip, and began to step up the pace. Slowly, squelchingly, her stained swollen stomach sloshing and squishing around the pumping penetration of her pudge-packed paunch by her pulsing pillar of pure arousal. Inch by inch, she climbed the mountain, and dragged the bubbling little deity every inch.

“How bad is it now, adorato? We’re getting close. I can feel it. How long do you think it’ll be?”

*

Leya whimpered, deep inside, but her voice was weak and raw, and all she could do was gurgle. Her voice, her beautiful smooth song-like soprano voice, was ruined by the raw churning mulching mass. Her body too. Her flesh was like fluid, hanging off her in gelatinous gooey masses, gobbets pulled away by the awful power of fox-fluids and fox-fucking. If she was mortal, she’d be dead by now. She wasn’t so lucky.

“I… I don’t know… how long...” she groaned, clinging weakly to a sweltering wall to try and withstand the pressure of the slow clenching humps. She didn’t want to think about how long. “P-please… Ms… Ms Christie… please… don’t… don’t…”

“Aww. You know it won’t work. Better than anyone, probably. But you still try. Can’t give up, can you?”

“...n-no… no… I… I can’t…” she whimpered, pulled away by tidal forces and forced down to the bottom. “I… I don’t…. I don’t want to give you… t-that…”

“Are you… nggh... sure?” The fox’s soft tender tones sounded absurd against the roaring slosh of her increasing speed. She was fucking harder now, breaking Leya inch by softening melting inch. “So easy, isn’t it? To give in? To be mine? I think you’ve been taken by people for so long, little adorato, that you don’t even remember what it’s like to be your own person and know no-one will take that away. Why don’t you admit it?”

“No! No, I… I’m not… I know… I… I’m n-not… yours… not... please…”

“You are. I’ll pop your soul as I smear you across my flanks and fatten my ass with it. I won’t even let hairs escape. I’ll swallow your dress, too. I’ll take every sign you ever existed and turn it into pudge. ”

“NNGHH! You… you evil… please… I, I want to… to exist…”

“You want to live? Don’t you? You want to be alive? You want to be free?”

“Yes… please… please, just… please…”

“A goddess, praying to me. About time, really. Well, Leya, my little sweet darling… fuck you. My little goddess whore. Now burn for me.”

And she thrust, hard, breaking a rib. Leya squealed, and the next hump rammed her breath back down her throat along with a pint of her own flesh. The fox didn’t stop, the onslaught suddenly a barrage, her shaft pistoning into her pudgy flesh until Leya could barely feel anything but the constant smashing squelches of it fucking her. She began to break apart, her voice catching as her soul crackled and bled.

“Nngh… nggh… nn… sel a-asami… ol sompheon sel asami… no…”

She squealed in languages which hadn’t been spoken in millenia, begged with parts of her she’d forgotten. She began to shatter, and the fox hissed and pumped and pumped, and smashed her, pulping her flesh, liquefying her bones, squelching out her soul.

And she was Christine’s.

For a few seconds, the fox’s stomach was so full of pure white light that she saw her belly glow with it. The heatless energy soaked into the ways, leaving them shimmering with power and glory. Leya’s body was turned to liquid, and her soul burst through in light. The power roared inside Christine, caged, burned away, swallowed by the fox’s greedy darkness. She drank it all, not seeking to control it, not trying to use it. She just digested it, like everything else.

Leya died. Christine came.

The fox sank her shaft into her belly even as it glowed with molten goddess, and spewed out gallon after gallon after gallon of steaming, roping cream. Where it splattered over her shining stomach, it began to bubble. Great pulsing clenches wracked her sagging balls, churning their contents out, hosing splurts covering the fox and the bed alike. Behind them, her female sex gushed a new tsunami of ecstasy, a bone or two splashing out amidst the torrent of joy and murdered souls. Pleasure hit the fox so hard she blacked out - and yet she still felt it. Leya was hers. Everything she was, was hers.

Slowly, minute by minute, the roaring flow subsided, and her belly grew dim. The little soul inside her tingled as it faded, helpless to survive without its body like most. It wouldn’t last long enough to reach her flanks, sadly. Her stomach was soft and sloshing, not so much as a hard bone remaining. Everything was her.

Christine took a step forwards, and collapsed, falling straight on her side. She licked her fingers again, tasting every last drop, feeling the pleasure soak down to a dull glow inside her. She wondered if this glorious feeling would ever truly fade.

It wouldn’t, she knew. This soft little slut would always be hers.

Although...

She didn’t think about that right now. She thought about how she felt, slowly shifting, feeling the sticky residue dry on her fur. She thought about her flanks, soft and swelling. She daydreamed, letting her mind wander for these sweet few moments when she wasn’t furiously in control. She enjoyed the bliss of it.

Hers. All hers, forever and always. Such soft little sweet sultry perfection. She stroked the silence of her belly, and felt it gurgle in gentle assent. All hers.

And then the phone rang.

Christine blinked, slowly. It had been a few hours already, and her body was hard at work processing the mass of godly meat inside her. The soft churning noises lulled her, but she sighed, reaching over - producing no end of churning groans - and picked it up, glancing at the name.

“Hendrik. Hello there.” she spoke almost sleepily, enjoying the faint tastes still in her mouth. “Now, listen, adorato, I’m fairly certain I said I was not to be disturbed for any reason short of a nuclear fucking apocalypse until further notice. And I said any reason. So this is how this is going to go. Either you’re going to tell me something very, very important. Or I’m going to tell you what I’ve been doing, and then we’re going to try to top that with you. Okay? What are you calling for?”

“Oh, come on. You think anyone is going to top her?”

It was not Hendrik’s voice. Christine was suddenly very, very awake.

“No,” she said, levelly. “I don’t think so. I just said we’d try.”

“Then I’m sorry to disappoint.” The voice was female, soft and smooth and not American at all. The accent reminded Christine of someone she’d eaten recently. Three someones, in fact. “Hendrik isn’t going to be available for… well, the rest of time, really. It was so kind of him to let me borrow his phone.”

“Did you need it? You seem to have had no trouble listening in on me already.” Christine smiled silkily. “My name is Don Christine Vorascini. I’m going to guess you might just be the person who failed to take Leya, twice. What did those demon triplets call you? Queen Melavascia?”

“No.” There was the faintest tinge of something sharp there. “No, no. Not quite her. They did mention me, though. I think they called me a “pathetic half-breed. That was fun.”

“Oh. I remember.” Christine’s eyes glittered. “I wondered about that. So, what is your name?”

“Rose. And it is quite intriguing to meet you.”

“Likewise. So. You were watching, were you?”

Rose laughed softly. “All the way through. I found you before you’d even let that little creature out of your snatch. I was hunting her too.”

“So why didn’t you just come in and take her from me then?” Christine pronounced the words with a chuckle as cold as ice.

“Because I knew that my mother was hunting her. Why bother going in myself and let them have the element of surprise on me? No, I simply seeded a few spells in there and let myself watch. The Triscion would have noticed your darts if I hadn’t sapped their powers myself, in fact. Of course, they just thought it was you. So I let them come in, and I imagined they’d have a bit of fun with you, and then I could come in and… assert myself. I was looking forward to those three especially. Triscion are a true delicacy.”

Christine chuckled, and this time it was real. “But...?”

“Yes. But then… you brought them down to their knees, and you… you destroyed them.” Rose purred with pleasure. “One by one you slurped away all their hopes. You annihilated them. You made them yours.”

“That sounds like admiration.”

“So I thought I’d stay my hoof a while. Because you were quite something. And besides, I didn’t particularly want to rush in and risk triggering another unexpected trap. No reason to let you have the home advantage until I knew it as well as you did. I watched what you did to her. The delicious, delicious fun you had. I watched her break before you. And finally, gloriously, I watched her tell you who she was.”

Christine stroked her curves lovingly. “Was it a surprise to you, too?”

“Oh yes. I had no idea. It had been a long time since I’d heard of her. She has quite a reputation, you know. The Ambrosia, some people call her. The Victim Incarnate. I have to admit, she’s even more enticing in real life. And of course, once I knew who she was, I knew I didn’t need to risk myself going after you.”

The fox’s hand stopped sharply. There was silence, and Rose giggled on the other end of the line.

“Clever. You are very good, you know. After all, this is what Leya does. She dies, and she comes back. There has to be a Goddess of the Hunted, no matter what. So you can churn her up here, but in a few weeks, another her will pop into existence, somewhere out in the cosmos.” There was a wet slurp over the line. “And that’s where I come in.”

“I see.”

“I have a hair of hers, stolen through telekinesis right in front of you and you didn’t even see it. Do you understand what that means? I have a piece of her being. Me. A trueborn daughter of a Matriarch of Gluttony. Do you have any idea just how good my sense of smell is?”

Christine flexed her fingers slowly.

“So I’ll track her down, all the way across the multiverse. And I’ll have her, and I’ll keep going, coming after her again, and again, and again. Devouring her in every way I can ever imagine. I’ve been searching for something truly satisfying for a long time. And thanks to you, sweetheart, I’ve found it.”

Christine fingered a plump breast idly. “So is that what this is? A thank you?”

“Well, a little bit. I thought you should know, you see. Relationships should always be two way. I would hate for you to not even know me, when I’ve watched you fuck a goddess to death through your own paunch. But mostly, it’s a little nagging curiosity in me. And curiosity is a desire, and desire-

“-should always be indulged.”

“Oh, I knew we’d get along. What I’m wondering is… someone like you, someone so greedy and glorious… where do you go from here? You’ve just devoured the single greatest meal in all of existence. What comes next for you?”

The foxtaur sat up, stretching a little, feeling the deity locked away inside her. “Mmmn. Well, just because I’ve had her doesn’t mean anything else is boring. I have a lot of things to do. Empires to expand. People to devour. Stories to make happen, and make end. Don’t worry, I have some ideas. ”

There was silence for a moment. The two monsters retreated behind their smiling masks, examining each other, circling warily. Then they both spoke, at exactly the same time.

“Try and get in my way, sweetheart, and I’ll tear your world apart.”

“Try and stop me, adorato, and I’ll burn the heart out of you.”

There was silence again. They laughed, and for once it was genuine.

“Oh,” Rose said. “I thought so. That was why I called. This is going to be fun, isn’t it?”

“I think it is,” Christine murmured. “I’m going to kill you, of course. And then her. And then her. And then her.”

“You think you can find her faster than I can?”

“I think the last demons who underestimated me learned not to.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m going to do a lot of things to you. But I’m not going to underestimate you.”

“Well then.” The fox shivered greedily. “I think we both have some things to be getting on with. Keep the phone, why don’t you? We might want to talk.”

“I keep everything, sweetheart. Everything.” There was a soft, susurrating slurp as the mysterious creature blew her a little kiss over the line. “Enjoy yourself.”

“I always do.”

Then there was silence again. Christine sat on her bed, breathing slowly. Her eyes stared at nothing. Her head cocked, very, very slightly.

Then she began to grin, uncontrollably, addictively, smirking with exhilarated glee. By the time she picked up the phone and dialled another number, she was almost bouncing with it.

“Hello there, adorato . Yes, it’s me. Listen, I’ve been thinking. We’ve been enjoying our portion of the universe for too long. It’s time to start claiming new pastures.”

Pause.

“No, not China. I was thinking further than that. Much further. Worlds further. We have ways into other dimensions, after all. We shouldn’t squander them. And besides...”

She closed her eyes, remembering green eyes and red hair and a soul which begged you to kill it.

“I have a strange feeling that there are some great, great things out there for us, just waiting to be swallowed.”

END OF BOOK ONE.