Coated 

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Coated
By Strega

It belched.

It now strongly resembled a female anthropomorphic raccoon. It had all the curves, real fur, ringed tail and mask, glittering dark eyes. But it was a sham.

Beneath the pelt was a layer of strong muscle, perhaps half an inch thick. Beneath that in turn was a smooth flexible inner skin -- the 'fursuit' was hollow, tightly stretched over the human woman.

It was now a stretched, furry stomach. The inner walls oozed a slow, strong digestive enzyme that had already begun to soften its meal. In time, Karen's skin, muscle, bone, and even hair and clothes would be softened enough to be pushed through the dimensional aperture and into Its true body. There the mush would stay until needed; it would be dispensed bit by bit back to this world to feed this protrusion into the humans' reality.

For the moment, it was in the unaccustomed position of having a very mobile, humanoid body. It flexed Its enveloping pelt, moving Karen like a puppet, and stood. It stretched (not to gain comfort, but rather to ripple Its fur and reposition itself around Its meal) and straightened the living room. Papers went back on the coffee table, recliner back upright.

It did not fully understand humans. But it knew how to stay inconspicuous, and how to manipulate them. By the time its meal was missed, she would be digested and gone -- or at least stored until needed. It opened the closet, found a hangar sturdy enough for Its needs.

When someone finally did come to look for Karen, they would not find her. But they would find a hooded raccoon-fur coat and gloves hung in the closet. Perhaps they would take It; perhaps a family member would; or, perhaps It would have to wait until her worldly goods were auctioned off, as it had had to wait after consuming its last meal. Eventually Karen had bought It and worn It home -- and there, once the door was closed, It had sealed itself around the woman. Her struggle had been brief, violent, and doomed from the start.

This was Its best, most subtle disguise yet. Someone would wear It, sooner or later. Someone would enjoy the feel of fur -- and someone would be coated, smothered. Digested. With patience, It could take many meals in this shape.

It was very patient indeed.

There was a sound at the door, and It
turned to look. A human male entered. This was not in the plan! It took a step back; from the smell of the apartment, It had thought Its meal lived alone.

'Wow, Karen, that fursuit fits great. But I thought you were bidding on a coat?' The male came closer, and It relaxed, letting the enveloped woman's body droop a bit. 'Oh, don't feel bad! You look great.'

He approached, boldly running his hand over It's now-humanoid belly. 'You look really, really great. I guess you don't need clothes with that on, heh.'

The nip on Its shoulder was a surprise, but then It realized: The man did not know what had happened. He thought It (stretched around Its meal) was his human ladyfriend -- and lover, from the way he was pawing her.

It had some experience with human lovers, at least secondhand. It had once taken the form of a bearskin rug and devoured lovers even as they writhed atop It. It knew how they behaved.

Its furry, padded 'hand' went around the man's waist, and It leaned Its cheek against his throat. His hands went around It's body as well, and It only had to incline Its head toward the bedroom to get the man headed that way.

The curtains there were drawn; It rubbed his back as he reached for the fastenings on his clothes. While his back was turned It worked Its muzzle, opening a slit where it had formerly been a fur-tight seal around its previous meal.

The man was naked now, and turned to grope at It, feeling over the breasts and hips that It covered so smoothly.

'You look so good in that.' The man smiled, and It took his member in one hand as It hugged him close with the other. It leaned in close for a kiss….

It was not always patient.

The End