Life as a flytrap
|Story Copyright (C) By: Strega
2000 - All rights reserved.
Story not to be reprinted, or redistributed,
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Life as a flytrap
Kalidah eyed the raccoon, and smiled.
It wasn't the first time she had seen him; he was often sniffing around this place, turning over beanbags, nosing beneath the tables. Sometimes he would lumber up to a furry, pat it all over to see if it was what it looked/smelled like. And, most often, snatch it up, cram it into his muzzle, and swallow the unfortunate in a single gulp. He didn't have teeth, this raccoon.
But he was very big. When he stood on his hindpaws, as he sometimes did to look around, he was considerably taller than she - and she stood to seven feet, herself. She was a stocky thing, as are most bears, even the ones with a humanoid tinge. Her fur was golden-brown, her limbs were thick, and she didn't meet the average definition of 'beauty' - though she was humanoid enough to attract more than her share of males.
She too was a predator, though of the thinking sort. Whether by seduction, cuddling, or outright stalk-and-pounce, she had snagged her share of wolves, cats, foxes, and other furs. Like the raccoon, she swallowed them whole, felt them wriggling all the way down, and inside - though in her case, she did have the fangs to chew, when the mood struck her. But she'd rather belch, and grin, and rub her belly as they wiggled. They always came back, whether via the magicks she had woven into her form, or by their own. Though she would digest and pass them, she would see them again. Some she had eaten several times.
She didn't plan to eat the raccoon. He was much too big, many times her mass. But after watching him hunker down in the corner, doze off for the third time in a couple of days, she'd grown curious. So she'd crept up, fortunately the only other one in the great cavern at the moment, until she could look at him.
He sat with his back in the corner, chin down on his breastfur, snoring lightly. Huge, thin-furred handpaws with dark pads and blunt claws hung at his sides. His thick thighs were spread to the sides, his great, fat belly bulging out towards her, his middle by far the widest part of him.
She'd seen him grow fat. He'd hardly been gaunt a month or two ago, when she'd encountered him for the first time, watched from across a room as a hyena-man kicked and struggled, then vanished into that narrow muzzle. Other furs had followed, some big, some small, even, she had heard, a kitsune nearly as large as the raccoon himself. Over that space of time, he had grown slowly fatter, until now he must carry a ton of it, belly jiggling when he walked, even his tail plump beneath the ringed fur.
That was what had drawn her close, this time. He'd sat down on his tail, flipping it forward between his legs. She suspected that would keep his belly from covering his maleness.
She was correct. With a grin, she reached out to feel the fur of his sheath. His ballsac was held from the stone floor by his tail, by accident or intent, the two orbs large as bowling-balls within the fur. The sheath, nearly three feet long and eight inches across, struggled to stay straight beneath the outward curve of his belly. His shaft had its own internal bone, she knew, and on a raccoon this large she clicked her fangs, and nodded. Not four to six inches, like a normal raccoon (She had friends who cleaned their pipes with the little cockbones of the wild coons), but at least two feet, maybe three.
Smiling, she slid her handpads down the length of the huge sheath, the fur coarse over the loose pelt. Her other handpaw joined the first, struggling to wrap around the thick furry cylinder, and up and down she rubbed, firmly but gently, all the while looking up to make sure she didn't rouse the coon. She didn't plan to do a nose-dive down his gullet today.
The coon grunted, shifted his shoulders, and leaned heavily to one side, but the corner supported him still. After a moment, he quieted, and she returned to stroking his sheath, feeling it slowly swell beneath her big paws.
Soon it grew stiff, the fur taut on the shaft, and she grinned as the raccoon's tail twitched. Sneaking up on males and giving them pleasant dreams was a naughty, fun diversion - especially on big, dangerous males. Of course, it was more fun still if she could count on the male waking and returning the favor, or if she had a companion to play with her as she worked. This coon was far too large to let mount her in any case .
A low churr, as the sheath shifted beneath her paws, and she looked up anxiously; but the coon still slept. Looking down again, a smile, as a pointed, pink tip appeared from the fur. Like everything else about the coon, it was huge, the point preceding a swiftly thickening shaft that bulked ten inches or more wide as the sheath pulled back, exposing more.
She shook her head, whistling her herself. Even little coons were big down there, compared to their size, and this one ! Another foot of shaft lurched into view, and another, her pads rubbing the sheath-lips as they drew back, until she was kneading the bunched-up fur at the base of a great, rigid cock. The thing had to be nearly four feet long, a third of the coon's standing height, and the inner bone kept it stiff as a board, flexing only slightly as she moved her strong handpaws to rub it.
He churred again, and she looked up once more; but he still slept, for all that her handpaws crept along the shaft now, using the dampness left by the sheath as lubrication to stroke and knead. He was breathing more quickly, even asleep, and his huge balls twitched in their sac as a bead of thick pale fluid bubbled up at the tip of the cock.
She hesitated. Much as she would like to continue, it was more dangerous by the moment. He might wake at any touch, inflamed and sensitive as he was, and find her - a snack? - between his thighs. But .
His own handpaws twitched, then his feet, and she found her hands stroking the length of the great cock, though she didn't remember starting again. He grunted, churred, dreamed!, and she helped, clutching at the huge, fleshy shaft and rubbing it with all her might. His thighfur twitched, his panting growing more rapid.
How she wished for a male just then, as her sex grew damp and hot between her thighs. To have one to mount her, or at least lick and paw here there, now that her hands were too busy. One paw alone would not be enough to attend to this huge shaft; two were barely enough. She grimaced, as the sleeping raccoon grew more and more excited.
And, finally, it was too much. She couldn't just grip the thing to herself, rub against it; that would wake him for sure. But the massive tip bobbing before her muzzle lured her, and with a creaking yawn, she leaned forward, her muzzle small as it fitted over the huge point. Sucked, and swallowed, working the tip into her jaws; ten inches thick, yes, but smaller than many a fur who had slid past her lips, and she swallowed a foot and more, sliding the tip into her throat, freeing up her handpaws to reach down.
The raccoon shuddered as fang-tips grazed sensitive skin, tickling as lips stretched thin around cocktip, as the glansless head was gulped down into a bearish gullet. Churring, his legs shifted, dreams of giant coonfemmes passing through his head, perhaps. Kalidah sucked, swallowed, took in another foot of giant cock and groaned, as she slid padded toes into herself, palmpads cupped over her groin. She whined, pushed in deeper, as the coon's balls pulsed beneath her thighs, twitch, twitch, twitch.
And then the great shaft pulsed as well, a massive throb that sent her eyes wide open again, the tension in the cock pulling the tip - and her head-top - in against the raccoon's fat belly. Past her muzzle, a foot and more down her gullet, just beyond her collarbones stretched wide to let this 'meal' by, an enormous gout of heat, flooding her throat, forcing itself down into her stomach as the coon rasped out a churr.
Blinking, she pulled up, half a foot of wet cock appearing from her lips and the raccoon grunted again, as another huge pulse of semen gushed through his shaft. With a whine she felt her stomach bulge out as though she'd swallowed a whole fur, hot and squishing with seed, her throat filling and then more pressure, a third pulse of goo, and ropes of it spurted from the corners of her mouth, splattering the coon's bellypelt, drooling down her furry breasts and belly.
Gulping hard, she forced what she could of the seed into her stomach, forgetting for a moment where her handpaws were. But only for a moment. Her toepads had continued to dig into herself, into the wet sex, the claws scraping lightly and with a cock-muffled moan that mixed pleasure and surprise, her sex clenched down, her heavyset body rocking as the passion struck her. The raccoon was growling in his sleep, shivering as the last seed flowed into her throat, bubbled out of her lips and stained fur both bear and coon; but she was lost in herself, grinding her toes against the tender inner skin.
Too soon, it was over. She relaxed, then slowly straightened, realizing that her thighs pressed down on his balls now. Her footpaws had splayed wide when she reached down to please herself. Pulling back, very gently, she freed herself from the giant cock, the thing slipping from her muzzle with a long sucking noise. Spent, it had begun to shrink already, the sheath creeping back up its length.
She pressed her pawpads against her swollen belly, grinned, and closed her muzzle tight to muffle a belch. Her front was slick with dripping goo; the dampness her vulva had left on her pads was lost in the mass of raccoon spew. She hadn't planned on a meal this morning - at least, not of raccoon - but now her stomach was full of him, sloshing thickly inside her. She smiled, rubbed her taut belly.
And looked up, eyes widening. The raccoon was toppling towards her, dislodged from his corner by the muscle-twitches of a powerful orgasm. She took a step back rapidly, then another and found herself just beneath his face, as his brown eyes snapped open, focused on her instantly. The narrow muzzle opened as he fell, and for an instant, all she saw was pink.
And then black. The coon's gaping maw thumped down over her, tongue splashing against her belly, palate stroking over her shoulders. Looking up, she had pointed her muzzle right at the back of his suddenly open mouth, and with a wet slap the throat stretched over her nose, cheeks, flattened her ears, as head and neck popped up into the raccoon's gullet. The muzzle snapped shut around her .
The coon caught himself on his handpaws, having let himself roll forward between his thighs, let his muzzle fall down atop the bearess. His weight had pushed his jaws down over her, and he gripped her there now, her broad body bulging out on either side, her head down his throat, her arms and legs thrashing. Her fat belly bulged down into his lower jaw, squishing down his tongue, and yet soft, the rounded tummy full of thick goo rather than a heavy meal. Pushing off with his handpaws, he rolled back upright, tossing his head back to get her started down his throat.
Kalidah grunted, struggled, trying to get a grip on something. How long had the raccoon been awake? He was an animal, not a thinking predator, and should not have been smart enough to trap her like this. She tried to get her arms out of his muzzle, knowing that if she got them around his lower jaw, he would have a much harder time swallowing her. She'd had difficult times with her own meals, when they had done that.
But it was already too late. With a heave of his muzzle, he straightened his neck, tilting his muzzle up. Her own weight sent her sliding into his jaws, and tightness rubbed over her shoulders as they slid past the back of his mouth and into his throat. In a moment, her arms were pinned to her sides by muscular gulletwalls, and she lay head-down in his jaws and throat, kicking strongly, but knowing there was no escape.
The coon felt the weight of the bearess in his throat, a comforting, heavy presence, and swallowed for the first time. Long ago, when he'd had his teeth, he did not eat prey like this. Instead, he chewed them up carefully, swallowing only afterward. And then, one by one as he grew older, he'd lost those teeth, or had them wear down to nothing. Feeding had been difficult for a long while until he'd realized that large as he was, he could just gulp his meals down whole.
The gulp pulled her waist-deep into the raccoon's gullet, and Kalidah kicked as his gums, more annoyed than anything else. Her hips and rump, naturally the widest part of her, filled his jaws, her goo-filled belly keeping his muzzle open so she didn't just slide right down. But she didn't fool herself; she was going down his throat, as soon as he squeezed her in. The narrow jaws tried to close, the palate pressing down on her stubby tail, and slowly, her bulk was squeezed fully into his muzzle, her nose and shoulders sliding bit by bit deeper into the wet slippery chute of his throat. The blasted coon had *let* her play with him .
Toothless tossed his head back, swallowed once more, feeling the big lump of bear gripped in his throat. It tried to slide down, wiggling strongly, and then stuck again as the rump caught in the back of his mouth. Deep enough, now. He squeezed his jaws shut, felt the meal pushed down into his throat, nearly gagged and then, it popped free, and bearish footpaws kicked from the corners of his mouth, as the weight of the thing pulled it downward. One, last GULP .
Kalidah cursed to herself as her rump was pushed down into the raccoon's gullet to join the rest of her. Head-down in his throat, her three hundred and more pounds of muscle and bone was a disadvantage now. The throat clenched around her, squeezing her fat belly - where another fifty pounds of raccoon jizm added to her weight - and she belched heavily as the throat opened before her muzzle even as it squeezed her rump. With a last, annoyed growl she slid downward, falling through the creaking tightness of his ribcage before splashing down into his stomach.
The raccoon churred happily to himself, feeling at the new lump in his middle. Not nearly the largest meal he had taken lately, it was pleasantly heavy nevertheless, the salt and musk of bear strong on his tongue after she went down. Bear, and his own seed.
Kalidah grumbled to herself, and slapped a big handpaw against the slimy bellywall. She was comfortably balled up in his stomach, with heat and the raccoon's pulse her only companions. She hadn't planned to end up here today. But, like her prey, she was resilient; the coon would digest her eventually, pass her, but she would reappear in another place, her magicks preserving her. She *could* claw at the walls of his belly, in the little time and air she had left, but he had trapped her cleverly, and it would not save her from her fate. Grumbling, but smiling, she settled down to breathe her last breaths. The slime had already begun to sting her; best to sleep.
Toothless kept his handpaws on his belly, ready to squeeze hard if the bear began to struggle. But she lay quiet, twitching only a few times, and then, nothing more. He squeezed anyway, after a moment, and belched up the bubbles of air that had gone down with her, and that she had exhaled. He licked his lips, and chops, and nosed at his belly, so sticky after this meal. And then leaned back into the corner again.
In five days he'd moved from that corner only to squeeze through the door that led to the sun and grass nearby, and then only to relieve himself and catch brief, deep naps. Here in the corner, he'd discovered, he need only feign sleep, and sooner or later, some small thing, furry or not, would come close enough to grasp. He had fed very well, put on more fat for the coming winter. This time, as on one other occasion, the little thing had found his maleness, rubbed it. With no coonfemmes close to his size to mount, near to mating season, it was a welcome attention, and he lay and enjoyed it each time. And then had his meal, when he was satisfied.
He belched once more, lightly, and closed his eyes. He heard something sliding down the ramp that led to this room, and should appear asleep when it arrived. Perhaps it, too, would grow curious about the dozing coon.