By Strega

"You’re a naughty little slut, aren’t you," Yeski managed past the gag.

The little raccoon-woman’s tongue tickled his footpads again. Each time the tongue slipped from her muzzle and across his pads, his tufted tail twitched and he stifled a laugh. She took her time, tormenting him with the ticklish licks, and she’d managed to dampen most of his pawfur with her tongue.

He could’ve pulled his feet away, but she’d just follow them. Getting up and walking away wasn’t an option, since his arms were bound to his sides and she held his footpaws.

He could lie there and taking it, as he had for the last hour, or kick her away. The latter was more tempting by the moment, but there was a good reason not to.

The reason was that neither of them had on a stitch of clothing, and his cock lay heavily against his thigh. The gray fur around her muzzle was stiff with his seed already, more speckled her ample bosum, and yet more was inside her. Sooner or later she’d abandon the teasing and make her way north once more.

"Yes, you’re a bad little bitch."

She giggled and grinned, holding his footpaw in her strong little hands. He smiled back, wriggled a bit in his bonds, and relaxed.

After all, tied up or not, he was perfectly safe. There wasn’t much a fifty-pound prakafemme could do to him besides tease.

Or so he thought.

*****

It started like many another evening. He rode into town at the head of the carvan, nodded to the gate-guards, and dismounted at the caravanserie to help supervise the unloading of the goods. The bulkier supplies were hefted from the wagons by ogres or trolls, leaving the smaller crates to the human, orc and kobold laborers.

The unloading was uneventful, as had been the caravan trip. Under his sharp eye no crate or bundle went missing, and just before sundown he received his pay from the trade-master. Since he was there already, he checked the caravanserie chalkboards for potential jobs then set off in search of entertainment.

Yeski Goldmane was a Khardaki, one of the lion-people originally created by the wizardress Arshaa. They’d served her as guards and lovers during her lifetime, then continued on as their own people. Arshaa had liked her lovers big, and even a khardaki lion-woman stood six foot two or so. A male could top seven feet.

He was tall and broadshouldered, muscular but not heavy, and weighed barely 250 pounds despite his six foot, eight inch frame. Some khardaki walked on the soles of their feet like a man, but he had the cat-liked padded feet his people called ‘pawfeet’. Tan fur covered him from head to toe, a tufted tail twitched behind him, and a magnificent cinnamon-brown mane framed his yellow-eyed face.

The first thing he did once out of the caravanserie was to visit the bank, where he rented a lockbox. He left his chainmaille, two-handed spear and bow, changing to a leather jerkin, loincloth, sandals and studded bracers. He kept his dagger and his broadsword. He also left most of his pay, having learned from hard experience that it burned a hole in his beltpouch.

Next he he sought out the public bathhouse. For three copper clacks he washed himself clean of accumulated road dust and sweat. His fur went from dirty brown to almost gold, and he grinned to see the look in the pretty wash-attendant’s eyes. For a gold Wheel more, he knew, he could have her lips on his cock.

That was rather more than he wanted to pay for the service, though, so he dressed and returned to the streets. Where he was going, the ale-mugs were deep, the food plentiful, and the whores cheap.

Greyston, or ‘Monstertown’, is built into a sheer-walled mountain valley. The center of the valley boasts the towering plateau hosting Lord Gray’s castle, while the rest of the valley is divided into ‘steps’ of various elevations. The lowest step is a festering swamp, the recipient of the city’s sewer system and a stinking morass of giant fungi. The next step up is Alltowne, a cosmopolitan zone of warehouses, caravanseries, bars, inns, and assorted shops. North of Alltowne is Mantowne, which while not human-exclusive, manages to keep out the rabble by dint of higher prices and aggressive guard patrols.

Instead he went west, down the cobblestoned streets past the arena (rather reluctantly, as he heard the cheers of the crowd and the shouts of the fighters), and up the stairs to the next ‘step’. At the top he crossed into Goblintowne. Here he encountered few humans, fewer elves, and plenty of ‘monsters’.

A behir paced along the street, blue scales glittering as it looked askance at a youth-gang of rowdy bugbears. The teenagers ignored the many-legged beast, instead lobbing rocks and rotten fruit at a competing band of gangly gnolls. Giggling and spitting, the hyena-boys dodged behind a passing wagon and returned fire with rotten chunks of meat.

Half a block later Yeski stepped politely aside as a guard patrol hurried past. Two hobgoblins, a khardaki, a half-orc and a troll in banded armor made up the patrol. Perhaps they meant to break up the gang-fight. The leader of the patrol, a hestan with a lieutenant’s star, nodded to Yeski in passing. They’d played at dice together the last time he’d been in town, though for the life of him he couldn’t recollect the cat’s name.

Two hill giants, a black carriage, a griffon, and a pack of kobold street-sweepers later, Yeski reached his destination.

The Fur and Feather Inne sat in the deepest part of Goblintowne. A three-story main building, two table-filled courtyards, and two smaller outbuildings bustled with activity. He pushed his way in the door, one hand firmly on his coinpurse and the other on his dagger.

The smell of the place hit him first: charred meat, spilled ale, rotten straw, vomit, woodsmoke, spices, blood, and the musk of a hundred species packed in close. The wooden beams and heavy wallstones were black with soot and grime. Damp straw stuck to his sandals (best not to wonder how it became damp), and creatures of every color and description packed into booths and around tables.

Yeski smiled, stepped over a manticore’s tail, and padded past a humping werewolf. The wolf had a barmaid bent over a table, and the table’s other three occupants, also werewolves, watched with some interest while sorting their chips. Apparently the gray-furred wolf’s interest in the maid had arisen during a card game. One of the wolves reached out and slid a coin into the woman’s cleavage, securing his place as next in line.

The wolf’s growls and the woman’s moans faded into the background as he threaded his way through the tables. Goblins, gnolls (or flinds, the two were indistinguishable much of the time), assorted humanoids, an ogre occupying a whole booth by himself, a pack of disreputable looking elves, and something like a naga (or lamia?) with dark blue and white fur filled the tables. Finally he found an empty one and had a seat.

His table was just as dirty. In fact its coating of grime was so complete the actual material of its construction was a mystery. Even the mumbledy-peg scars barely showed. The chair was cleaner, though, and the mug the barmaid brought was fresh-washed and full of ale.

He wrinkled his chops in a friendly leer, and she smiled back, eyes twinkling. She got a hundred looks like that every evening, and a hundred hands on her ass, but kharkaki are much more handsome than, say, orcs.

"Evening, Yeski. Back from Ulek so soon?"

A swig of ale moistened his vocal chords. "Shortest round trip for me this year, Sesha. Still pays pretty well tho’, what with all the bandit trouble." His eyes wandered to her cleavage, which threatened to spill out of her tightly laced dress. "…Doing anything later?"

The twinkle didn’t leave her eye. "Mmmaybe. It depends on what you have in mind, doesn’t it?" With that she swaggered off, followed by more eyes than just his. You didn’t need to be a human to appreciate the gyration of a human woman’s ass.

Yeski leaned back, enjoying the view. "Mm." Another long swig of ale relaxed him a bit more. Sesha, like most women, expected certain gifts in return for her favors. If she thought no gifts were forthcoming, then he wouldn’t be ‘coming’, at least not in her company. It was much the same with all the barmaids here, and barmen for that matter. No doubt the werewolf had slipped the other barmaid a few coins before he slipped her something else.

This was, of course, one reason he liked the Fur and Feather.

He fingered his earrings as he eyed the nearest prospects. Those orc women? No, he hadn't drunk enough to stick his dick in that yet. The elf-woman over there? Probably too expensive, and probably too tight. One of those human mercenary-women, maybe? The glances they cast each other might mean they preferred women, or it might mean he’d be in bed with all three. Maybe that bugbear female: she seemed to be by herself, and to his eyes she wasn’t as ugly as an orc.

There were more exotic prospects. The female manticore he’d stepped past? No, manticores were too violent in bed for his taste. That centaur lass? Unfortunately she was on her way out the door. He’d had good fun with a centaur or two. That lizard…person? It looked female, but who could tell?

The…snake-skunk-woman thing? She seemed busy with a eyepatch-wearing half-orc, and anyway, her furrysnake lower body, while it ended with a cute fluffy skunktail, looked awfully thick in a constrictor-snake sort of way.

Sesha brought him another ale, and he grinned at her unabashedly. She knew exactly what he was doing: he was a caravan guard in from a tour, a healthy young male with an itch that needed scratching. Maybe he’d scratch it with her, maybe not.

Watching the ever-changing roster of potential bedmates, deciding which to approach, he missed the approach of someone thinking similar thoughts about him.

He didn’t see her, didn’t hear her above the din, and didn’t smell her through the reek. His first hint was a tiny padded hand that slipped beneath his loincloth and stroked his cock.

His tail thumped the floor as an immediate stiffness developed beneath that hand. He knew what he’d see when he turned, and sure enough, a little praka raccoon-woman stood next to his table. She couldn’t be more than three and a half feet tall, stocky, wide-hipped and ringtailed, and her dark eyes glittered cheerfully in their black bandit mask as she rubbed his erection.

Yeski petted her furry head. "Hello little lady." He took stock of her: her furry tits were good-sized for a praka, her fur had the sheen of health, and the little hand on his dick was strong. "I guess you know what you want, eh?"

She giggled, nodding. He’d never encountered a praka who could talk, but between their sign language and forwardness it was easy to tell what they wanted. This little ‘coon wanted some lion meat tonight. Of course she’d want something in return, but praka were usually both easy and cheap.

He put a little more pressure into the petting, nudging her beneath the table. Several people at nearby tables watched with amusement, for his table was so small there’d be no concealing her activities.

She resisted the push, though, and pulled a key from the belt-pouch that was her only clothing. She waggled it at him, chittering.

"Right then." He finished his ale in one long gulp, dropped a silverpiece on the filthy table and followed her. There was an awkward moment as the hard-on bulged through his loincloth, but he ignored the staring eyes and amused glances. In a few steps he was on the stairs, his loincloth-teepee out of sight.

Narrow stone stairs led to a railed walkway overlooking the room below. There were a few small tables up here, lightly inhabited, and he ignored the curious looks as he’d ignored the others. His girlfriend-for-the-evening scuttled a few steps ahead of him, then paused, looking over her shoulder and wriggling her furry rump at him.

That didn’t help his situation at all, and his now fully erect cock popped loose from the loincloth and bobbed as he walked.

Some might have wilted from embarrassment, but he just gave the onlookers a grin and followed the little ‘coonie into her room.

"All right you little scamp, now you get yours for putting me through that." He reached for her as she locked the door, but she dropped to all fours and scurried over to the bed. His hands brushed her hips as she fled, but he was too slow to pull her back and impale her.

Frustrated for the moment, he looked the room over. It was a typical inne room, with a narrow, shuttered window, an open storage trunk and wall pegs for cloaks. Monstertown had a real sewage system, unlike many cities, and the bathroom-niche had a toilet and running water. He and the little ‘coon were the only ones here, it seemed…he ducked to peer under the bed, to be sure.

His curiosity (and natural caution) satisfied, he slowly unbuckled his belt. Folds of rough-woven red loincloth fell away, exposing a healthy length and girth of hard lionman. Wrapping hia weapons and coinpouch in the belt, he stuck them on a shelf too high for her to easily reach. Smiling, he approached the bed.

Her eyes were bright as she watched his bobbing cock, and she patted the edge of the bed with both handpaws. As he sat she leaned her shoulder into his chest to get him to lie down.

He flopped back comfortably, propping his head on a pillow, and purred happily as she nuzzled and licked his balls. Her little hands could barely encompass his scrotum, but she kneaded it skilfully as her tongue explored its furry surface. By now he was throbbingly erect, his cock hard and curved, and her tongue slid from his balls to the veined black shaft.

He grunted, his tail lashing as the tongue slid up his shaft. She followed the vein on the underside, wetting the skin with firm little licks. Slow and persistent, she licked his dick from root to tip.

A male khardaki’s dick was his most human feature. Arshaa, however much she’d liked fur and manes and fanged muzzles, must have wanted this one familiar feature in her servants. Yeski’s cock had no sheath, no spines (he’d heard that real cats’ cocks had spines), and to the eye could have been a man’s. A well-endowed man’s, anyway, for from balls to foreskin-less tip his measured more than ten inches.

Her narrow muzzle parted, and he grunted as she worked her lips over the head. Carefully keeping her fangs out of his skin, she mouthed the thick shaft in until it filled her mouth. She teased him with a nibble, then began to suck as her hands rubbed his balls. Yeski grinned, for he’d been quite ready to spurt on his belly after that licking and her mouth was even better.

"You’re a good little slut, I think. You’re going to have something to drink soon." He reached out to pet her head.

She flinched away from his hand, jerking off his cock, and he reflexively yanked his hand back as well. "Sorry!"

He put his hand on his belly and waited for her to continue. Finally she did, but she watched him almost fearfully as the licked the cleft in his cockhead.

"Someone hurt you, didn’t they?" Very gently he reached out once more, and this time she let him stroke her soft headfur. Too many people took advantage of praka, who couldn’t defend themselves against bigger, stronger humanoids. They had sharp fangs and claws, but even a male praka weighed less than half what he did. A strong humanoid like a gnoll could abuse a praka with almost no fear of retaliation.

All this pondering didn’t change the fact that she was sucking his dick, and he growled as the lust bubbled up in his balls. Precum dripped out of her mouth and his hand twitched on her skull, pushing her muzzle farther over his cock.

Squeaking in protest, she jerked away, pulling out from under his hand and retreating to the foot of the bed. His cock bounced off his bellyfur, and he looked past it at her frightened eyes.

"Look, I’m sorry. I’m not going to hurt you" Something had changed in her eyes, though. The fear was leaving, and amusement filled them now. Her chitter of fear turned into a giggle, and she scampered over to the trunk.

His balls complained. Grumbling, he rolled on his side to watch her. The hard-on thumped his thigh. "Am I going to have to finish the job myself?"

She bent over to retrieve something from the chest, and firm raccoon-snatch bulged out at him. Her ringed tail swiped back and forth, her hips wriggled, and Yeski began to lose patience. "Tell you what, you stay right where you are."

But as he swung his legs off the bed – for he was two steps and a crouch from putting his cock in that teasing snatch – she popped back up. She had a coil of rope.

"And just what do you plan to do with that, now?"

Grinning, she padded back over to encircle his wrist with the rope.

"Hmmm." He sat still as she ran the rope around his waist, then around his wrist again, effectively (if loosely) tying his arm to his side.

His better judgement said to get up, get his gear, and walk out the door. Two drinks, his hard-on, and the excited look in her eyes said to stay. The more rope she wound around his torso, the brighter the look in her eyes and the more she smelled of lust. Tying him up was making her wet.

When she had his arms bound to his sides, she crawled down between his thighs. His dick was still hard as a board; his balls tight and achy, for he’d been very close five minutes earlier. Now she licked the length of his shaft in one long stroke, gathered his cock against her chest, and squeezed her furry breasts around it.

Yeski squirmed as she kneaded him between her breasts. His tail flicked between her knees as she licked his tip, opened her mouth, and slid her muzzle slowly over his cockhead.

His hands twitched as she closed her snout again. Her fangs tickled the sensitive black skin, her tongue licked rapidly beneath his glans, and her cheeks bulged as she mouthed up a cockhead almost as big as a normal raccoon’s head. Her cheeks bulged, then went still tighter as she began to suck.

It forced a growl out of him, then another, and he found himself moving in time to the sucking. The ache in his balls went away, replaced by a growing heat, and he stared at the droplets of saliva running down his cock. Her softly furred belly rubbed his balls as her head bobbed.

After all the build-up, the rest happened quickly. He didn’t want to – couldn’t – think of anything else. He couldn’t distract himself from the little muzzle sucking his cockhead, her breasts around his shaft, and the fur rubbing his balls. There was nothing else to see, and the sounds of the inn, muffled already by the wooden walls, couldn’t compete with soft sucking sounds.

His growl rose in volume, becoming a deep, chest-vibrating thing, and his eyes squeezed shut. A wide-mouthed lion’s snarl bounced back off the walls, and his tail thumped the bed hard. His hips buckled up off the bed, but she moved with him as her breasts squeezed him tight. Seed pulsed through his cock, up between her breasts and into her mouth.

When he opened his eyes a few seconds later, jism was dripping from her lips. It oozed down her chinfur and drooled in thick strands onto her breasts. Giggling brightly, she pulled her muzzle free of his cockhead, trapping as much of the spooge as she could and swallowing it.

"Mmm…" Someone was banging on the wall, complaining about the noise. "Good little slut."

She let his cock flop down on his belly while she licked her lips clean of spunk. His damp black shaft lay there thick and flaccid while she cleaned herself. When her muzzle was as clear as it was going to get, she turned her attention downward once more.

"Hhhh." Again her tongue slid over his cock, moving the loose skin. This time she started at the head, licking off the traces of spooge. By the time she was halfway down the shaft, following the purplish veins, he was hard once more.

When the central vein bulged from the underside and the shaft went wood-rigid beneath her tongue, she went to the trunk once more.

Yeski watched with amusement and a trace of alarm as she rooted around in the chest. Again her ass was to him, and this time her pussy glistened. She was good and wet, but if she came up out of that trunk with a weapon he would be on his feet in an instant. Bound arms or no, he was more than a match for a praka.

When brought out a folded cloth, he chided himself for his paranoia. It was a makeshift gag.

Because of his aroused snarl, he realized. He lay there placidly enough and let her fill his mouth with the thing. Now he could mumble, but not roar. He couldn’t help but smile: apparently she expected him to snarl again. It looked to be a long evening.

Once more she crawled down between his thighs. But this time she didn’t wrap her breasts and muzzle around his cock. Stepping over his hips, she straddled him. A padded hand directed his shaft firmly upward.

Forgetting that he’d twice been ready to mount her, he mumbled, "Now, little lady, you’re going to hurt yourself." Squirming, he testing the bonds a bit. They held, and shy of kicking her off the bed all he could do was watch.

She grinned down at him, bent her knees, and took his cockhead into her snatch.

He’d fucked prakafemmes before. Praka males were hung as well as a human despite their small stature, and the femmes gave birth to cubs almost as big as a manchild. That meant that a prakafemme was only slightly smaller than than a human woman was, when it came to her cunny. Most human women were a tight fit around Yeski’s cock, though, and he expected an almost painful snugness here. But his shaft slid into the coonie’s well-lubricated vagina without difficulty.

"You’re full of surprises tonight, little slut." Amazingly she didn’t just take in the head and part of the shaft, but rather kept lowering herself. Thick black cock vanished into her cunny inch by inch, and soon her pussy-lips swallowed the whole thing. Somehow, no doubt by dint of bearing a cub or two, she’d stretched herself out to take in a cock almost a quarter her height.

Winding her fingers into his bellyfur, she began to rock. It was her turn to enjoy herself, and the little ‘coonette moaned as she worked it in and out. Slick, hot cunny moved around Yeski’s maleness, squeezing and stroking him. He thrust back, arching off the bed to add impetus to her downward pushes. He’d have grabbed her hips and bounced her, but again the ropes frustrated the effort.

There was something odd about her pussy, now that he was in it deep. The smooth, accomodating cunny loosened a bit around his cockhead, as though his cockhead was past the vagina and into some internal chamber. Was it possible she had his cock in her so deep, his tip lay in her womb?

The relative looseness around the sensitive head meant Yeski wasn’t quite as involved as he’d been with his dick in her mouth. He’d also just orgasmed, which slowed his pace even more. But he was a khardaki, half lion, and he’d fuck all night if the opportunity arose.

The little prakafemme bounced on his hips, using his erection to service herself, and as he watched his own lust rose as well.

If he really was in her to the womb, he was about to contribute directly where most males left their seed to swim. The little coonie’s eyes were shut, her muzzle open and panting. Her downward thrusts were quick and violent now, slamming his cock through her slippery pussy. Faster and faster she moved, chittering and moaning, and Yeski found himself milked close to climax himself.

When she paused, shuddering, and grabbed her tits, Yeski let her have a second helping of his seed. He couldn’t help it had he wanted to, for her cunny jacked him off as effectively as any hooker’s hands.

He matched her shrill chitter with a gag-muffled grunt of lust, and the semen pulsed once more through his shaft. This time it didn’t spill from her muzzle, nor need she swallow it down. It passed into her body, gouted far deeper than a praka-male could manage. Again his tail thumped the bed, and his catlike toes curled in ecstasy. Her gripping pussy slowed the passage of his seed, prolonging the pleasure. Soon enough, though, it was done.

Sated, she slowly pulled away. Fat wet shaft appeared once more, milked free of seed and already half limp. With a satiated sigh she stretched out between his thighs, giving his balls an occasional lick.

Yeski rubbed her back with his heel and smiled. They lay there together, both recovering. This time there was no pounding on the wall, just the sound of their breathing and the faint inn-noises. He wasn’t at all sleepy. It wasn’t even eight bells yet, and even if he’d been tired, he wouldn’t let himself fall asleep with strange women. More than once he’d woken up with no woman and no money, and once with no clothes too.

For a time it seemed she’d doze off between his thighs, though. But after a few minutes of seeming nap she roused herself. Supporting herself on her elbows, she licked his balls clean. That took a while, and by the time she finished there was a lot more cock to wash then there’d been when she started. This, too, she lapped clean, and Yeski squirmed at the slow, teasing licks.

He flicked his ears, rattling his earrings, as her tongue moved over his cockhead. She was definitely, definitely getting a nice gift after this.

But after exploring his cock with her little padded hands, she moved away from his groin. Yeski’s maleness was left throbbing on his belly as he watched her move around the bed. What did the little she-devil have in mind for the next one?

Making her way down his legs, she unfastened first one, then the other high-strapped sandal. The thick hydra-leather shoes slapped to the floor, and she stretched out on her belly. Her ringed tail faced Yeski, and she looked back over her shoulder to smile at him. Then she turned around and started licking his feet.

His cat-feet were as wide as a man’s face, and her little tongue took a while to explore the surface. She tasted the fur, licking it from his ankles toward his toes, and he stirred restlessly as his cock gradually lost its firnmess.

"Hey." He pulled one foot out of her grip and rubbed her ass. "How about licking something else. Unfinished business." He moved a bound hand enough to point at his groin.

She giggled and turned around where she lay, worming her way upward until her chin brushed over his balls. She didn’t stop, though; climbing carefully over his groin and leaving his cock almost untouched. Only her tail brushed it.

When she stradded his chest, her ringed tail lay half on his cock still, a pleasant enough touch but not a satisfying one. On the other hand, his view of her breasts and mound was excellent now, and that brought some firmness back.

"Is it my turn to lick, little slut? I can do that." He licked his lips, advertising his sandpaper tongue. But she leaned forward, grabbing his cheekfur, and kissed his nose.

She did more than kiss it. She wrapped her muzzle around the tip of his snout, sucked air through his nostrils, and then pushed forward. Slowly, with a chewing motion like the one she’d used to engulf his cockhead, she worked her little muzzle over the end of his much broader one. Her fangs tickled, scraping forward as she yawned to encompass his snout, and he stared into her eyes as she advanced.

It was the oddest kiss he’d ever had. Of course her little muzzle couldn’t take in very much of his snout, and she paused when her jaws were as open as it seemed they could get. Her little hands released his cheekfur, then patted his mane back. For almost a minute she stayed where she was, looking into his eyes as her mouth held his muzzle.

Finally she drew back, closing her jaws and smiling at him. Moving her hands from his cheeks to the gag, she tightened the knot. The wad of cloth lay further into his jaws now, making speech harder.

"You’re a strange little coonie." He worked his tongue around the gag. Hopefully she understood.

She did, or at least she giggled. Putting both hands behind herself, she leaned back and grabbed his cock. Her fingers interlaced around the head, and she kneaded it as she’s done his balls.

The firmness came back to his cock in a rush, and he grinned. "If you take this gag out and turn around, I could lick you as you suck."

She didn’t, though. Instead she sidled her way down his body, knee-stepping over his groin to again avoid his cock. She paused while between his thighs and gave his shaft a few licks, bringing it to full readiness, then crept still further down the bed.

This time she let herself slide off the bed, landing on her feet. Her breasts pushed up almost to her chin as she leaned toward him, grabbing one of his big pawfeet and licking the pads.

Frustrated again, he pushed at her shoulder with the other foot. "Unfinished business?" She ignored him, though, and tickled his footpads with her tongue.

Well, he couldn’t complain about the service he’d had so far.

*****

Ten minutes later she still lay by his feet. She’d licked every one of the pads on both feet, moistened the fur with her tongue, then gone back to the pads again. Every so often she’d look up at him, smile secretively and nibble on a toe.

Yeski sighed. She’d been a lot more interesting when his dick fascinated her. Now it was all about his feet, and her clever looks.

She had both his feet pressed against her breasts and was nibbling his ankle when he spoke.

"Little slut. I know you like my feet, but I’ve got a lot more where this came from." He rubbed her chin with his toes, where the seed had crusted on the fur. "Maybe you could…what are you doing?"

Grinning up at him, shed’d pulled his foot up beneath her chin, then yawned. In a twinkling his middled toes vanished into her mouth, then with a hard tug on his ankle she shoved his whole foot into her mouth.

He wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but there it was. His foot was entirely in her mouth with her cheeks wrapped tightly around it. His foot was bigger than her whole head! Yet somehow she’d managed.

"Well, why didn’t you do that when my dick was in your mouth?" He wiggled his foot, moving her head back and forth. "If you can do that, I bet my cock didn’t have to stop at the back of your mouth."

Her tongue tickled his footpads again, and he rubbed her bulged-out cheek with the other foot. "More cock sucking, less foot sucking…?"

Instead she grabbed the second foot, pulled it up against her cheek, and with a sudden sideways push forced her yawn still wider. Somehow her narrow snout gaped enough to let the other foot in, too! Her cheeks swelled as though she’d engulfed a watermelon, and both his feet slipped into her mouth.

"Good gods." He pulled his knees up against his chest, and instead of pulling out his feet he dragged her forward. One of her hands appeared between his thighs and grabbed his dick, which had lost most of its stiffness again. Strong little fingers dug into the loose cockskin, jacking it up and down. Instantly some firmness returned, and he forgot her strange foot-antics for a moment.

That’s when she swallowed his feet.

He didn’t realize what had happened at first. He couldn’t see her face, just feel it. Her jaws loosened somehow, stretching about the huge bulk of his paws, and her tongue pushed hard against one foot’s central pawpad. His toes slid away from her teeth, into a soft, slippery tube. Like pushing his foot into a silken sock, tight, but so slippery his feet met no resistance.

Wanting to see his feet again, and see what she was doing, he straghtened his legs. That pushed her down the bed, pulling her hand off his hard-on. It also pushed more of his ankles into the ‘sock’. By the time he could see her, his feet, ankles, and half his calves were gone.

"What in the world?" Her bright little eyes were still cheerful, though squeezed half shut by her hugely swollen cheeks. Her neck was so stretched it seemed she had no neck, just a direct taper from ears to shoulders. He’d never seen anything like it, or felt anything like it. The smooth flesh of her throat lay all around his feet and ankles, and her fangs scritched his calves.

"All right, fun is fun, but this is getting boring." He pulled his knees toward his chest again, dragging her up the bed. None of the vanished leg reappeared, though.

With a muffled giggle she reached up above his knees for a handhold and began to methodically swallow his calves.

Her gullet was surprisingly strong, grabbing his footpaws and pulling them deeper. One seemingly easy gulp and he lost another two inches of leg. Another and she was almost to his knees.

For the first time Yeski began to worry. His feet had to be almost to her stomach, and however she’d learned this outrageous deep-throat trick, he didn’t want his feet soaked in bile.

"OK, enough is enough. Stop it." He pushed his legs out straight, pushing harder now to force her away. It was a hard enough shove that he should have hurt her a little, kicked against the inside of her ribcage. How there could be room for his feet in her torso along with her internal organs was a mystery, anyway. That kick should bruise something.

To his astonishment, the kick just pushed another few inches of him into her maw. He met no firm resistance, just the same clinging, slippery grip. He should have felt bones – hell, his feet should be nearly to her hipbones! Instead all he managed was to shove himself past the knees in her little muzzle, and swell her neck wider than her head.

His legs were trapped tightly together now, held in a fleshy grip from lower thighs on down. Incredibly, she still didn’t stop. Pulling at his thighfur, she swallowed again, and his feet slid around inside the smooth tube that seemed to be her whole torso. It was as though she had no bones at all, just soft flesh in the shape of a coonish body – but how, then, did her body hold its shape? She had to have bones!

The nagging worry he’d first felt when his knees approached her nose strengthened. If she didn’t have any bones, if her torso was just flesh, well, the space inside that flesh might be all stomach, mightn’t it? How much might that stomach stretch?

He’d lay there for an hour, submitting to her, and he’d gotten to come twice. But it was time to resume his role as the boss.

"I said, stop it! You’ve had your fun." For the first time he seriously tested the strength of the ropes. There was a bit of looseness to their coils, and he began to wriggle his arms. With any luck he could get his hands free, if not his whole upper body. While he struggled with his bonds, he rolled onto his side, kicking out even harder than before.

Again his feet just sank into her. Her body bulged around his legs, and something still stranger happened. A new bulge developed around the lumps of catfeet, and her belly quickly went smooth and round. Moment by moment, the new swelling expanded, until her whole body threatened to become a furry balloon.

His feet came loose of the fleshy sheath that’d entrapped them, and her lips sucked suddenly tighter to his thighs. At first the suction was slight, but as her body continued to expand it strengthened. Her lips and throat clamped tight around his legs, but her gullet proved so slippery that instead of sticking tight, the suction started to pull him in. By the time her body was three feet across, his thighs were vanishing an inch a second.

"Oh, shit." She wasn’t stopping. She must not be a praka at all! Her body was just a mass of flesh in the shape of a ‘coonie, boneless and expandable, and somehow she controlled the muscle and skin. She expanded her whole body, creating a vacuum, and sucked his legs in like furry pasta.

He wiggled frantically as the last of his thighs was slurped up, but he hadn’t gotten his hands free yet. And he’d thought too late to lock his legs out straight. They were already bent at the knees, folded up inside her furry body and hardly showing in the spherical mass she’d become.

As the ‘coonie’s thinly stretched lips engulfed his hips, the still-normal arms attached to the furry ball reached up and grabbed his cock. In the fear and excitement of the moment, he’d not realized his cock was again hard as a board. It’d happened in fights before, but it usually only lasted a few moments. Now her hands wrapped around the shaft, pumping the loose skin up and down.

He grunted. "You little…bitch." She masturbated him skilfully, squeezing and stroking his shaft even as her sucking maw devoured his rump and and groin. His balls vanished into her jaws, and his tail bent upward, its root sucked into the devouring maw as its tufted tip switched to and fro. Without ever stopping her advance she worked her hands up his cock, finally locking them below the head and jacking them firmly up and down.

Struggling with the ropes, he ignored the pleasure building in his abdomen. His balls were down her throat now, sliding along the fleshy gullet toward her stomach. The slimy, rippling flesh caressed them, and now it caressed his cock too, for the cock-root and half the shaft was down her throat. His proud manhood vanished inch by inch beneath her little muzzle, until just her stroking paws and the purplish head protruded.

As his waist vanished, his hands were taken despite his best efforts. One and then the other slipped into that expanded mouth, were caught in the suction and swallowed down. Struggling to pull them out, he didn’t feel the approaching orgasm until it exploded out of him.

"Raaahhh!" This time he vented his lust in a full-throated roar they’d have heard in the bar if it weren't for the gag. Seed gushed out of his cock, spraying over her chops and spurting up his chest. Blobs of it sailed over his shoulder to splatter on the headboard.

Then his cock was gone into her gullet, and her muzzle advanced through a pool of semen to engulf his chest.

He threshed like a fish, fighting to straighten his legs inside her and rolling around on the bed. Still the devouring maw came on, and he snarled, leaning down to snap at her head. All he caught was an ear, which folded tough as leather between his fangs before slipping away. Next he tried to plant his feet on her insides and kick his way out, but the slime-coated walls were too slick for a foothold. Even his unsheathed footclaws just slid off her inner flesh. Her expanded body bulged and heaved as he kicked, kneed, and clawed.

But there was no fighting the suction. The little muzzle kept moving, sliding over his navel, bumping up onto his sternum and nipples.

All this time her limbs hadn’t changed. They seemed perfectly normal, small dark hands and feet on more lushy furred limbs. But her body was a strange boneless thing. The limbs somehow connected without the benefit of hips or shoulderblades, so they rode the surface of the swelling body.

She must be a demon, a succubus that are flesh instead of – or maybe along with? – Souls.

He was to the shoulders in the soft, expanded maw when the expanded ball of her body collapsed. The slick flesh suddenly comformed to his legs and body, giving him more to push against. Within a second it gripped down, through, kneading itself tight to every contour of his body. Her lips were just past his shoulders, and as her innards gripped him once more she swallowed.

So much of him was inside now that the natural tendency of her body to assume its normal shape helped pull him in. Her lips contracted inward, tightening the circle of maw around his neck until only his mane and his head remained.

With only his face left outside, it finally occurred to him to cry for help. He tongued the gag out of the way as best he could and screamed for assistance.

The gag, he realized, was there for just this reason. The little ‘coon didn’t care if he snarled as he came. Let the neighbors beat the walls as her lover roared his ecstacy. No, her only concern was that when he realized what was happening, he’d call for help. She must’ve planned this all along. Afraid of large men? Ha! She’d tied him up to make swallowing easier. And he’d let her, thinking it fun and kinky. Let her be on top, be the dominant. Any other time he’d have bent her over the bed like the werewolf and his barmaid.

Why hadn’t she swallowed him headfirst? …Because she’d wanted him to watch. She’d had her mouth around his snout, seemingly at its limits, but he knew now she could have swallowed his muzzle, his face, and the rest of him. No, she’d wanted to see his expression as he realized what was happening.

Yeski’s mane bristled forward, pushed by her advancing jaws. It shrouded his vision as he screamed for help. Why wasn’t anyone coming? Wasn’t there anyone to help him?

But he knew cries of protest were common in the Fur and Feather. As long as the management didn’t learn of genuinely foul play, it was to their benefit to ignore things like lustful or protesting screams. An elf-woman encountering a werewolf’s knot for the first time screamed louder than his gagged roars, and he’d made his own share of women shriek.

He kept screaming as the lips advanced around his cheeks, and as the little muzzle slid between his eyes from behind. He screamed as he watched her palate advance, as her cheeks took in his broader ones, and as her mouth finally closed enough that he could see both her upper and lower teeth. He screamed even as his rounded lion’s-head slipped to the back of her mouth, and her little muzzle finally worked its way shut in front of his nose.

He was still screaming when she swallowed him down, but by then, there were no words to his cries.

The last gulp squeezed his head, tightening around his cheeks and pushing them back, and his cry muffled as his snout slid down her throat. The incredible muscular grip of her body-belly pushed his head down against his knees, and he found himself curled up tight. Her gut pressed in from all sides, assuming his shape exactly. The soft, slimy flesh couldn’t be more than an inch or two thick, distended as she was around his frame, but he’d already discovered its toughness. Hard as he wiggled, he only managed to roll her around on the bed. There seemed no escape from the engulfment.

All he could do is struggle and scream. The flesh absorbed his screams. His struggles just made her furry body twitch and bulge, but her stomach always pushed him back into the fetal curl.

And inevitably, his struggles exhausted the air.

*****

Ria belched.

She lay on the bed, unreasonably swollen. The curled-up lion man swelled her body until her limbs seemed mere ornaments, far too small to carry her gravid bulk. Her head and muzzle, a third the size of the lion’s, rested directly atop the vast swell of gut.

Her hands could still roam, though. She couldn’t possibly reach her sex now, since her body had stretched lengthwise as well as girthwise to accommodate her meal, but she rubbed her breasts as she contemplated her evening.

The lion-man had been right. She was part demon, the result of a magical experiment gone wrong. She didn’t covet souls, though. Her hunger was only for flesh, though far more of it than any normal praka. And she wanted – needed – her meals alive and kicking.

Her little torso was, at rest, a mass of muscular flesh around a long tube of stomach. While her breasts were quite real and functional, the rest of her body was nothing but an immensely expandable sack. Her quasi-demonic powers let her control its shape, mimicking a normal bone-supported body until the time came to stretch around a meal. She even lacked internal organs, save for that that huge stomach. All three of her major bodily openings led to it, separated from the outside only by enough ‘throat’ to fool the eye or accommodate a male’s thrusts. Sometimes, as tonight, her lovers proved so well endowed they actually reached her stomach, but she’d sternly ordered her belly to not attack his cock.

She couldn’t change her limbs, the color of her fur or the shape of her tits. But she could expand her torso by force of will, keeping two openings shut and sucking with the third. Anything unfortunate enough to be inside her at the time would inevitably be drawn deeper. Her sex and anus, just as boneless and flexible as her maw, could suck in prey as readily as her mouth.

Her unnatural hunger and natural libido led her to trysts with many a male. And almost invariably, some part of them ended up inside her and was followed by the rest. Cockfirst, headfirst or hands-first, into mouth, sex or anus, the result was always the same. She could have taken him headfirst, or let him lick her pussy and consumed him that way.

Her hands wandered downward. The lion’s snout bulged through the fur, and she stroked herself there. A last few twitches signalled his final surrender, and she couldn’t tell if he felt the petting or not. Now he was just meat, and her slow but thorough digestive system began its work.

Her stomach was stretchy enough to engulf a whole lion, but in its actions it was no quicker than a normal praka’s. This handsome bulk of meat was at least a week’s food. It’d be a chore to drag herself to the toilet and back, so she’d probably pull the bedclothes over there and set up camp for a few days. When she’d digested and excreted the remnants, she’d be twenty or so pounds heavier. Absorbing such a huge meal always packed on the fat.

Surprisingly, to her thinking, the rolls of fat she’d carry wouldn’t deter males from following her up the stairs. She’d lived in this room for a year, acquiring it on her first visit to the Fur and Feather by the simple expedient of ingesting the previous renter. She paid the rent from her victims’ purses, by selling their belongings, or at worst, by working as a dish-carrier for the inne. That never lasted long, though, for many males were happy to lie with a cute little prakafemme.

A few weeks of such meals and her rolls of fat would accumulate to the point where movement became difficult. Males began to shy away, and sheer starvation slimmed her back down. In this fashion she maintained equilibrium, plump but not grossly so. To avoid these starvation diets, she tried to restrict herself to one meal every two weeks.

It’d be wrong to characterize her as evil, or cruel. Like a leucrotta or lamia, her nature was to feed on people. The magical accident left her with a demon’s hunger, but a praka’s natural good nature. She felt no guilt, but she did have limits.

She avoided other praka, for one thing. Her healthy fur, broad hips and generous bosum drew praka-boars like bees to honey. Much as she liked a randy praka-male atop her, they always ended up inside her by the end of the evening. After her attempts to restrain herself failed – her last encounter with a praka ended when she sucked him into her sex snout-first – she began avoiding her own kind.

There were plenty of other meals to be had. Now that she had the time, she cleaned her muzzle with tongue and hand, licking off and swallowing the crusted spunk. She cleaned her bosum as best she could, though there was now a two-foot-wide gap between her breasts and she had to do each one-handed. She even licked the larger spots of still-wet seed from the bed.

When she’d licked up all she could reach, she curled around her massive gut to relax. She’d been very hungry tonight. It’d been a strain to resist eating, even when in bed with such a handsome lion. She’d deliberately started with a blowjob, because he didn’t look flexible enough to bend in the middle. That reduced the tempation to swallow him cockfirst.

Next she’d mounted him, keeping her muzzle away from his own. If she’d let him be on top, in what the humans called ‘Missionary’, she knew he’d kiss her, and her hands would catch him behind the ears. Her muzzle would part for his nose, and that’d be the end of him. So she rode on top instead. Either way she had her fun, impaled on a cock larger than nature intended to enter a prakafemme. While her limits were ridiculously higher, she still enjoyed sex with a well-hung man.

Almost, she’d gone for his face next. She preferred headfirst meals with tailed prey, for their tails thrashed so nicely as they slid into her jaws.

If she’d had just an ounce more patience, his cock would have gone up her ass next. Her two lower openings were her favored ones for sex, unless she just planned to please the male. She’s usually use both in an evening with a handsome male, and sometimes her mouth too. Sometimes, when less hungry, she’d spend hours wearing them out and sating her drives, before finally taking her meal.

Her current lover lay in her stomach with most of three loads of his spunk, and gradually she drifted toward sleep. Digesting such a meal took a lot out of her. By the morning enough would be processed by her simple gut that she’d need to move herself to the toilet. Though all three of her bodily openings led directly to her stomach, with just enough intervening ‘tube’ for sex, all the solid debris left via the expected hole.

It occurred to her, in those last moments before sleep, that she’d never learned his name. That was probably for the good. While disappearances rarely raised questions since so many came and went from the inn, she’d been questioned by the town guard a few times. If that happened again, she’d be able to sign with perfect honesty that she didn’t know anything about such and such a khardaki.

Or the other three lion-men who’d come to this room. Or the two hestan cat-men. Or the six gnolls, eleven orcs, two werewolves, thirteen humans, six halflings….

Ria drifted off to dreamland, a smile on her little muzzle.

The End