The School of Tae Kwon Vore 

by Strega 

Story Copyright (C) By: Strega
 1998 - All rights reserved.

Story not to be reprinted, or redistributed, without author's Permission.

If you wish to use the stories, or 
anything copyright by me, please e-mail me.
I'll also forward any mail to the author.

  The School of Tae Kwon Vore

Part I
David was kicking the heavy bag when the skunk walked into the dojo.  Six foot three, and over two hundred pounds, David was a muscular cougar, more heavily built than most sensei; he prided himself both on his powerful physique and the flexibility that he had managed to blend with it.  Fast and strong and infinitely practiced, he would have more than the four stripes on his black belt had the senior dans of his school not imposed a time limit on how fast one could advance.  He was confident, and sought challenges…and this skunk looked like a challenge.

The mephit wore a set of Gi bottoms, and where he found a pair that fit his enormous frame David couldn’t imagine.  Towering past seven feet, he had to duck to clear the doorframe, and his thick black pelt didn’t cover up the fact that he was massively built.  A quick glance at the naturally broad midsection, the paws larger than the cougar’s head, the arms/forelegs thick as his thighs, and the sensei guessed at a mass over five hundred pounds.  A simple, dirty yellow belt strained to surround the skunk’s waist, held up in the back by a gigantic brush of largely whitefurred tail.  Red padded sparring gloves and boots stuck from a sports bag, which they filled past capacity.

David couldn’t help gaping, and the skunk grinned as he took off his sandals.  "Yes, I know…I get that a lot, Sensei."  Stepping onto the mat, be bowed slightly.  "I was hoping you had a spot in one of your classes.  I understand they are small."

The cougar grinned back.  "Yes, small…and, honestly, why would you need to train?  Besides your, er, chemical defense," he gestured at the skunk’s fluffy tail, "I can see you are in good shape.  Who would want to bother you?" 

The skunk sighed.  "You’d be surprised. The main thing I want is to learn the middle tier of skills…I have had a year or so of practice, in several schools…so that I can subdue an attacker without hurting them too much.  That takes training, when you are as big as I am."

David shut his muzzle just as he was about to suggest Aikido or a similar school.  The thought of this massive mephit doing even simple kicks…maybe he wouldn’t take him as a student, but at least he could see that much.  "Well, why not put on your pads, and we’ll see."

The skunk nodded, slipping on the pads. "All right."  David nodded at the long bag, and the mephit…lumbered, for lack of a better word, heavy on his paws…to it and slapped a handpaw into the middle.  With a hefty CHUNK the bag bent in the middle, and the cougar’s eyes widened a fraction.  The skunk leaned to the side, and David had to wince as he slammed a simple round kick into the leather, the chains creaking as the bag swung up to a forty-five degree angle.  The mephit cocked a paw as it came back down, and the sensei interjected, "Wait!  I don’t think the chains can take that." 

The skunk paused, blinking, and the bag slowed its swinging, a faint powder of plaster coating its top from the bolts above.  "Sorry about that.  I could have hit it a lot harder…I guess the last bag I hit was anchored better."

David rubbed his chin.  The skunk’s pelt had hardly rippled at all as he hit the bag.  From previous experience with smaller mephits, he knew they were naturally fat, but this one was almost all muscle…almost gaunt.  Just…five hundred pounds of thin skunk, seven and a half feet of mephit.  "I can see where you could easily hit too hard.   Let’s spar slowly, and see how much control you have."

The skunk nodded, and smiled, stepping to the middle of the mat.  A bow each, and David flicked a kick at the wide midsection, confident enough of his own control that no pads were needed.  He connected, the skunk’s clumsy block too slow, and had his foot bounce off dense pelt over what felt like solid muscle.  Another kick, to the shoulder, to no more effect, and he spun into a back round kick, cranking up the power even though he would pull the kick up short.  The mephit really was in good shape, just slow.

But not as slow as he thought.  As his back turned to the skunk, it stepped far forward, and grabbed him around the chest with its huge paws.  Snugged against the furry chest, his kick muffled, he twisted to get his hands against its chest.  There he found the skunk grinning down at him, hips twisted so even his groin was out of reach.  The arms around him were immovable; the skunk had him cold, in a light hug that could become a crushing one.  "That wasn’t bad at all.  With your size, all you have to do is grab a troublemaker."

Striper nodded.  "That’s right.  All I have to do is get within reach."  And with that, he tugged David upward, his neck bending down and muzzle suddenly gaping.

David’s eyes went wide, vision filling with the pink inside of the huge skunk’s maw, yellowed fangs and pink tongue and darker palate.  The skunk was demonstrating that he was capable of defending himself, he thought, the bite just a bluff, a hollow threat…and then fangs brushed past his ears, and the mephit’s head jerked downward, wide muzzle taking in the cougar’s entire head.  David’s muzzle squished into a fleshy tightness, and felt the lips stroke past his ears, the light going dim.  My muzzle is in his THROAT, he thought!  He is carrying this too far…

Striper lifted the cougar’s feet from the floor, forcing his muzzle down over its head.  Strong fingers gripped at his pelt, pushing at his chest, but dinner hadn’t worked out yet how far this was going to go, and the cat didn’t go for his eyes or any other presumed weak spots.  Maw creaking wide, he pushed down against the cat’s broad cheeks, and with a groan and *pop!* his jaws dislocated, the cat’s head slipping into his gullet to bulge out his neckfur.

David gasped, fangs raking over his nape, and winced as throat pulsed up over his cheeks, flattening his ears as the skunk’s nose slipped down between his shoulder blades.  He could feel the strong swallowing-muscles tense under the smooth throatskin, tugging him deeper as the paws kept pushing, and the mephit’s pulse grew loud.  Suddenly, he was not sure the big furry was just showing off.  What if it was really trying to eat him?  He thrust his hands against its chest, whipped his body into an arch, and snapped his head back, quickly building up to a fishing squirm, a desperate effort to stop the consumption, real or demonstration.

But it didn’t stop.  The paws on his back pushed down to his rump, cupping one cheek each, and with a powerful tug the skunk pushed his jaws down over his shoulders.  As gullet unfolded over his chest, slick skin wetting the fur down against his skin, David kicked the skunk as hard as he could.  It’s jaws had loosened somehow, unhinged, and his shoulders and upper arms slid down inside, crowding his head deeper into the thing’s chest.

Striper grunted, kicked in the navel, and sucked in a rasping breath around the bulk filling his throat.  Barely a sip of air made it past all the meat and fur, and he shoved the legs upward, tilting his head back to straighten his neck and let it slide in more easily.  The great, squirming lump in his neckfur pulsed downward, and with a heavy gulp he dragged in the hips as well.  The hands were pulled from his fur, and he wriggled his head from side to side, upward-pointing nose twitching as the cougar’s tailroot slid past and out of sight.

David squirmed in the tight, fleshy sheath, the muscles around the gullet tensing down in rippling waves to pull him ever deeper.  His foot bounced off the skunk’s chest somewhere, and then his legs were kicking upward, his body sliding down into a creaking tightness that had to be the brute’s ribcage.  Organs throbbed around him, and he scraped his carefully trimmed claws through the slime of the gulletwall, knowing he could hurt the skunk terribly if he could just rip through.  But a marital artist, a sensei, has to consider safety, and his concern for his students led him to trim claws to the quick.  Now, as his muzzle slipped through a tight, muscular valve into a looser space, he regretted that.  Another gulp, his head popping into the stomach, and he shouted with all the air the constricted space left him.  To be bearded in his own dojo, and eaten….

Striper tossed his muzzle back, and the hips dropped down into his throat, gripped by the next, heavy gulp.  With a lurch the thighs began to drain into his muzzle, and with a long groan he accepted the weight suddenly filling his belly, the knees, calves, and finally footpaws and cougar-tailtip slipping from sight as the cat was pulled smoothly downward.  His muzzle closed at last, he gripped his suddenly rounded belly with his huge hands/forepaws, feeling the creak of ribs as the cat slithered past and into his stomach.  In moments, the heavy feeling settled, and a last tickle of tail-in-throat passed as that, too, was pushed into his stomach.  And, finally, a sigh, as he worked his jaws back into alignment.  Such a squirmy dinner.

David kicked, thrusting his knees and hands against the enclosing fleshy tightness, and gasped in the little air available.  The belly seemed soft, at first, but it was quickly tensing, the muscles beneath the skin folding it tight to him in a series of rolling waves. Tighter and tighter it squeezed him, pushing the air out of him like a constricting serpent, and at last even the darkness that surrounded him seemed to fade.  With a last effort, he thrust his muzzle at the enfolding flesh….

Striper grinned, watching the bellyfur bulge and twitch, and then, with a last shudder, the meal was still.  Air pockets were squeezed out, and a heavy, rumbling belch blew out his cheeks, continuing far longer than he expected.  Blinking, he licked his lips, pawpads tracing the vague shape of the cougar inside.  And, just then, the sound of a footstep.

Part II

"May I help you?"  Rachel eyed the enormous skunk, uncommonly fat across the middle with a belly that would do a beer-guzzler proud.  "Is the sensei here?"

Striper grunted, tugging at his Gi to get it seated right beneath his belly, and turned to look at the speaker.  It was a raccoon femme, a tall one at that.  Small breasts stood out through her gi, and a brown belt cinched the slender midriff into sight.  A five-ringed tail twitched behind, the rest of the details hidden by the loose clothes.  She was a pretty thing, fine cheekruffs standing out, cups of ears facing him attentively.  He smiled.

"He was just here a moment ago, interviewing me.  I think he found me a little…um."  He lowered his ears in embarrassment.  "Big to train."

Rachel had to smile at the oaf of a skunk.  "Well, you are surely the largest skunk I have ever seen."  She kicked off her shoes, and stepped onto the mat, the skunk returning the ceremonial bow politely.

"I’d think you wouldn’t have to worry about self-defense."  She couldn’t take her eyes off the enormous tail, far larger than her entire body, and then her look turned to his fat middle.  There was a distinct curve to it, not like drooping fat.  "You’re pretty…in-shape."  She nibbled her lower lip.  That bulge looked odd.

Striper smiled.  "I tend to build up a sort of internal weight."  The more he looked at the raccoon, the more his…urges were developing.  Eating a kicking meal always brought out his lust, and Sandra was not here.  And he could not just let this one get away, having seen what she had seen.  He slipped his tail around casually, concealing the growing bulge in his gi.  "I go up and down in weight a lot.  I stopped by partly because training helps me control my weight."

Rachel looked up at him, noticing the half-sly smile.  He seemed pleased with himself, for some reason.  "Do you mind if I…?"  She stepped forward, and he moved his tail so she could touch his belly. 

"By all means."  Striper watched her expression carefully, concealing the slight change in his posture as he readied his hands.  She felt the ‘fat’, and pressing harder, her fingerpads slid over a lump, a hard shape under the padding muscle.  And then she looked up, a horror dawning in her eyes…and he had her.

"What?  No!"  Rachel jumped as the skunk scooped her up, paws around her back and rump, and found herself all but buried in the mass of fur over the terrible bulge in his middle.  She could feel it now, the shape of it, and knew it was David in there, somehow swallowed whole and rotting…digesting…in the skunk’s belly.  The skunk dragged her in, her knees pushed out to either side of the bulge.  And then she felt the other bulge, the long, heavy one in his gi, and she looked up at his smile.

Striper held the smaller female to his belly, and with the claws of the other forepaw, ripped her gi bottom clear of her sex.  A scrape of claw on pelt, not injuring her too much, and she was exposed, a tug of his own gi’s drawstring letting his sheathtip poke free.  He was entirely hard, now, the fearful raccoon’s scent female and enticing, drawing the first few inches of slick black shaft into the air.  Gripping into her gi-top, he pulled her up, churring at the feel of fur stroking over his tip, then pushed her tight to his belly and let her own weight impale her.

Rachel shrieked!  Pointed, fleshy tip bore into her like a plough, and thick skunk shaft followed it, stretching her unwilling sex wide.  With a grunt, the skunk rocked his hips, belly letting out a disgusting gurgle, as she had to cry out again.  More skunk slid in, and more, and then her head went back, her whine ignored, as the shaft grew so thick no more could squeeze in.  She looked down, eyes tearing, as saw half his cock still sheathed, the rest vanished into her…and he tugged her tight to his belly, as his back began to arch.  His ballsac swayed, orbs wide as tennis balls standing out through the fur.  And a horrid, oscillating growl oozed out of him, a deep churr, as he stroked into her unwilling tightness.

Striper closed his eyes, and ignored the moans of the raccoon femme, concentrating entirely on the feel of fleshy tightness around his tip.  She was not practiced as Sandra was, and he could fit only half into her, but that was the most sensitive part, and he was very needy after his meal.  Arching his back, he humped lightly, the warmth in his balls and belly growing already.  He didn’t need to hold back to please her; he could just please himself, for soon she would be gone.

Rachel sobbed, helpless for all her training in the grip of the giant paws, and pulled back her hand.  Forming her finger into a spade, she struck with all her might at the mephit’s throat, knowing her leverage was bad but having to do something to make him let go.  With a thud hidden in his churring, her blow struck, and his eyes popped open.  Now, a less pleased growl, and he leaned down, his lips wrinkling back as he gaped over her face.  She could feel him beginning to twitch, belly and thighs, and knew his climax was close; shoving against his chest with all her might, she screamed, trying to wriggle loose as his ejaculation distracted him. 

Striper closed his eyes tight, and pushed his muzzle down over the raccoon’s face, the motion turning jerky as a spasm seized his lower half.  He heard, rather than felt, his tail slap the floor, for a great spike of pleasure seemed to run up his spine as he came.  Pulsing ecstasy filled his balls, his shaft, as he spurted his seed into the female, and the feel of it doubled him up over her, her muzzle vanishing unfelt down his throat as he rasped out a churrr. 

Another jerk, and another, as he emptied himself into her, swaying where he stood bent over, consumed in lust.  And finally, the passion drained away, and he opened his eyes to find her tail-root just past his nosepad.  Loosened as his jaws were from his previous, larger meal, she had slid down easily, and her strong little hands gripped desperately at his throatfur now.  He had to rumble out a laugh, the grayfurred fingers plucking and gripping at him, for she still hadn’t given up.

He straightened, a wet sucking sound and stroke of pleasure announcing the return of his cocktip to the air, and warm stickiness splashed across his belly as strings of semen drooled from her sex.  He grumbled to himself, remembering how it stained gi, and grabbed her ankles in one hand to shove her deeper.

Rachel was quiet now; her scream had been muffled by the skunk’s gullet, slammed down over her muzzle as the sound erupted.  She had thrust against his chest with all her might, but his orgasm had curled him up over her, and now her shoulders were wrapped with hot slick skin.  She felt the push of his tongue atop her breasts, the tensing of his throat, and with a powerful gulp she was sucked in up to her waist, her legs gripped and pushed towards his maw.  She couldn’t even kick, and lashed her tail for the few seconds before lips covered the root.  She wished she were a skunk, in that moment; at least she could have stunk him good and proper.  But she could only curse to herself, as he gulped her down, becoming stretched in his throat as thighs were pulled in after hips.

Striper swallowed heavily, gulping down tailroot and tail, thighs filling his muzzle, then knees.  And once again, he heard something, a rattle of the front door opening.  Going fully alert, he reached down to pull up his gi, tighten the string just above his damp sheathtip, and hope that the spilled cum was not too visible, wherever it had landed.  And at the same time, he tossed his head back, straightening his throat, and with a last, mighty gulp, dispatching the raccoon to join her sensei.

Rachel slid down the smooth chute, gripped and propelled by muscles that pulsed beneath the skin, and in seconds passed through the tightness of ribcage, squeezing out in to the packed tightness of skunk-stomach.  The little air here was foul with the smell of digestion, and she found herself forced to curl up with the sensei, her shoulder pressing against his muzzle.  With a despairing sob, she leaned her cheek against his.  Why had the skunk come here?  What cruel impulse led him to eat other furs?  It was so dark here, so hot….

Striper flipped his tail around to conceal his lower parts, kneeling slightly to add to the effect just as three more furs padded in.  A lanky fox, green-belted, led them, followed by…was it a lemur? In a blue belt, and last, a slender ferretess with a belt as yellow as his own.  He smiled pleasantly, shifting as circumspectly as possible to get the raccoon settled for digestion, and spoke just as the fox opened his mouth.

"Have you seen the sensei?  I was supposed to talk to him tonight, to see if I could join the class."

The fox boggled at the fat skunk.  "Um, no.  You have a belt, though…."

Striper nodded with a grimace.  "I really shouldn’t have worn it…it’s from another school.  But it’s hard to get my gi to stay up without one, and I didn’t have a white."  He made a show of pulling up his gi bottom, and the ferretess giggled.  He smiled back.  "I know, I know, but I have to work off weight somehow…I just seem to gain and gain.  Can’t control my appetite."  A thought seemed to strike him.  "Hey, how about a little sparring?"  He held up his sparring-gloved hands, the clawtips just showing past them.  "Say, three on one?" 

"Hmm…sure, why not?  Sensei will probably be here in a little while, and we already stretched."  The fox stepped onto the mat, the others following with little bows.

"So have I."  Striper smiled, taking a non-threatening stance.  "So have I."

Part III

Sandra clicked on the van’s lights as Striper appeared as a bulky shape in the dojo doorway.  There was no question of him walking on two paws, now; his middle was swollen so it seemed larger than the rest of him put together.  He held one forepaw back to cushion the huge bulge as he walked, keeping it from dragging too much, and walked awkwardly three-pawed, panting, tail fluttering out behind.

She shook her head as she got out to open the back.  "You greedy thing!  Five of them?" 

He sniffed her tail, fluffy and doublestriped as his, though she was a fifth his size and mostly morphic.  "I couldn’t let any of them go once they saw the *Hic* bulge."  With a tired-sounding grunt, he heaved his mass up into the van, his swollen bulk scraping the walls.  Giggling, she shoved his tail in after, filling every single cubic inch of the big van’s rear, and shut the door carefully.  In a moment, she was back behind the wheel and driving away.  In the side mirror she could see the flickering light in the dojo’s windows, where whatever flammables he had found would soon set the place fully alight.  It highlighted the painted sign: David’s Tae Kwon Do.

"I bet you’re too stuffed and tired to play when we get home, too."  She glanced in the rearview, but saw only a mass of black and white fur.  He chose that moment, to moan, oddly high-pitched, and she giggled.  "Five is almost too many, huh?"

Striper belched crassly, a window-rattling blast that almost caused her to drive the van off the road.  She controlled her giggling, then half-snapped at him.  "You really are greedy."

"What would you have had me do?  Just snap one’s neck and leave?  We can’t leave bodies…this is a dangerous enough game as it is."  His tailfur twitched in the rearview, and he let out that strange moan again.

Sandra grumbled.  "You could have saved one for me, you know."  The more she thought about it, the more irritated she got.  "Greedy!"

Striper was silent for a time. It wasn’t very far to the house, this time – not like the last two, half an hour to one dojo and three to another – and he didn’t say a word until the garage door shut behind them.  "Love, you know I wouldn’t want you to go hungry."

She blinked, as she opened the van’s back.  He had managed to turn around inside the rear, and planted his forepaws at the edge, lifting his chest from the carpet.  And there, beneath him, was the ferretess, her head and shoulders protruding from beneath the soft folds of his belly.  His paw back beneath him hadn’t been supporting his belly…it had been keeping the ferret there!  Had he been mating with her, even as he walked?

The ferretess moaned, that same sound, and squirmed weakly, obviously still impaled on her lover’s cock.  Slowly, Sandra smiled. 

Striper grinned, watching the ferretess wake from her daze and find her muzzle was in a skunkette’s jaws up to her ears. With a muffled chitter, she began to struggle, and he shifted his hindpaws as Sandra’s neckfur began to bulge.  Even after two matings in an hour, watching his lady feed excited him like nothing else, and his tail twitched in the tight interior of the van.  The doomed ferret’s head vanished into hungry Sandra’s maw, and he leaned into a humping thrust, his swelling shaft helping push the mustelid slowly from beneath his belly.  By the time his love’s jaws reached the ferret’s hips, he would have something to feed her, too.

The End