Commitment Issues
It was Thursday, which meant date night for Klara and John. This week, they had decided to go out to the Thrumblebrush Couple's Spa, where every indulgence had been offered to them. Klara had enjoyed the deep tissue shiatsu massage, while John had squirmed as the claws on his paws were buffed and trimmed down. They had both enjoyed having their fur brushed and trimmed, and now they were winding the night down with a soak in the jacuzzi. John's sleek gray fur clung to his shoulders and neck as he sat on one side of the jacuzzi, whereas Klara's wet fur didn't so much 'cling' as 'exemplify' the curves of her heavy bosom as she relaxed along the rest of it. Her arms were around the back of the jacuzzi, the massive Tauntaun's body took up the the entirety, with one calf folded behind John's back and her other laying across his lap, scissor-pinching him between them. The length of her foot was about the same as the jackal's torso, and he was kneading and massaging along his girlfriend's massive foot with a familiar intimacy.
"So, you see," John continued, absently rubbing and tugging along two of Klara's thick toes with either paw, "the photosynthetic enzyme I've isolated from the chloroplasts could theoretically be modified to increase efficiency by, I suspect, thirty-seven percent. The implications this would have for sustainable agriculture are..." He paused, clearing his throat as he often did when his enthusiasm threatened to overwhelm his audience. "Well anyways, it would be quite remarkable, really. We might be able to grow corn in the desert, if it worked."
John smiled up at Klara, tracing claws down the arch of the huge tauntaun vixen's foot. She wrinkled her nose in that adorable way she did, and gently pushed at him, squeezing him back against her other leg. 
"That's amazing, sweetie," she said, her green eyes glimmering with interest as she shifted her foot out of his grasp and slid it behind him. "That sounds like significant progress. Your research could have serious implications for food security protocols."
The steam rising up from the hot water thickened as John's enthusiasm built, his body language becoming more animated as he leaned forward in the bubbling water. "Exactly! And the best part is, it's completely scalable. We could implement it from community gardens to industrial farms! The environmental impact alone would be...." He noticed that his girlfriend was staring off to the side, a distant look on her blocky muzzle. "Well anyways, enough about my pet project. How was your day?"
"Well, it's funny you mentioned scaling," Klara said, as she turned back to John, licking her lips with a flash of her green tongue. "I was checking out some websites, and I found a hiking trail up Mount Paneednock." Her eyes glowed with excitement, her eyebrow raising as she canted her head to the side. "I think we should do that hike tomorrow. The weather is going to be amazing."


John's own ears perked up, swiveling out of the damp mess of long red hair to point slightly towards her. "That sounds wonderful. I wish I could join you, but I have that meeting with the university tomorrow. I am going to be presenting my findings, and if they like it, I'll be getting some additional grants so I can finish my work. I'm so close, Klara, it's really quite exciting."
"That's fine," Klara said with her characteristic matter-of-factness, a smile playing at the corners of her distinctive snout. "You can come in spirit. It will be nice to walk at my own pace anyways, and the solitude will allow me to observe the wildlife without interference."
John's brow furrowed with concern, his protective instincts overriding his disappointment. "Are you sure that's safe? Mount Paneednock is remote remote, and the weather can change quickly at that elevation. What if something happens and you're all alone up there?"
The question seemed to amuse her, and Klara's smile widened, revealing the pale bioluminescent green of her inner mouth. It was a subtle glow, barely visible in the spa's lighting, but unmistakably otherworldly. "John," she said with gentle patience, as if explaining something obvious to a child, "I'm almost thirteen feet tall and I've literally eaten a horse before."
"Well, I don't know if he counts, it was a skinny guy on a bicycle," John replied, but Klara cut him off.
"A skinny guy on a bicycle who ran into me," she corrected, "and who immediately learned why pedestrians always have right of way. He definitely yielded to my stomach acids though, didn't he?"
John went quiet, his cheeks blushing under his gray fur as he sank down into the bubbling, growling pit of the jacuzzi. "Yup." The casual mention of her predatory capabilities had John feeling things, his ears folding back as he thought back to the time she had eaten him. It had been sudden and unexpected; he had come out of the shower and she had said that she liked the smell of his fur, and before he knew it, he was getting plunged head first down her throat. It had been terrifying, and painful, and fatal, and as he passed out inside her hot gurgling guts he had rationalized that at least it could only happen once.
Then he had reformed, two days later, and realized that he had been wrong. The equine bicyclist he had not seen again, nor the missionaries who had woken Klara up one Saturday morning. He also hadn't heard anything about the fellow running for city council who had charmingly forced his way into Klara's apartment to discuss his plans for the city. That had been in the news, but the disappearance was blamed on the public outing of his ties to certain unsavory groups, and it had been assumed that he had left town. Maybe it was. John preferred think that it was a universal thing that happened when Tauntauns ate people. It wasn't that she'd eaten the horse that had him blushing and throbbing in the water, it was the matter-of-fact way she'd talked about it, about consuming another living being, the complete absence of emotion or remorse in her voice, that was threatening to completely distract him from the lovely date he was sharing with her.
"I... yes, of course," he stammered, his usual articulate speech pattern deteriorating from his conflicting emotions. "I suppose you're more than capable of handling any 'wilderness challenges' that might arise."
Klara's expression remained unchanged, seemingly oblivious to the effect her casual revelation had on her partner. "Exactly. Wild animals will give me a wide berth once they understand my size and capabilities. It's a natural survival instinct."
As will anyone else who gets in her way, John thought, but decided to keep those thoughts to himself. He nodded, glancing over towards the lockerrooms. The stewing, boiling jacuzzi was suddenly too hot, too claustrophobic, and he was feeling far too randy to trust himself alone with her in it. He was a civilized jackal, after all.
"Hey, maybe we should clean off," he said, slipping into the center of the tub, careful not to accidentally step on her big tail, or the rest of her, which was curled up under the water. "We could shower, and I made reservations at that Wichita Steakhouse..."
"Oh?" Klara made an exaggerated sneer. "Gross, you know I don't like that place..."
John was confused. "What? I thought you loved it! The last time we went-"
"The last time we went, your steak was presented on a plate and my steak was chopped up and mixed in with a bunch of lettuce," Klara said. John blinked at this, then shook his head.
"Sweetie, you ordered a steak salad..." He said, but she shrugged easily.
"A steak salad should be a lot of pieces of steak, chopped up and mixed together. A salad made out of meat. That's what I ordered, it should have been what I got."
"Of course," John said, as he stood up, the water sluicing down over his body, tickling as it drooled over the short fur. "Well that's okay, we'll go somewhere else then, it's just a reservation, not a prison sentence." He offered her a hand, to help her stand up, though being almost twice his height, the idea that he could do that was laughable. "Let's go wash off."
She eyed him up and down, licking over her lips with that glowing green tongue of hers and then smirking naughtily. "Maybe we can eat in tonight, instead..."
John blushed, and yanked his hand away just as her much bigger one came out of the water in an attempt to grasp it. "Uh uh, you know better, we talked about this... behave yourself." 
John hopped out of the tub, his erection rampant and now fully visible. It was an adult couple's spa, so nudity was expected, but it still felt weird to actually be naked in a public space like this. Klara had no such reservations, standing up out of the water and stretching languidly. The jacuzzi's water level dropped by almost half. John stared. Of course he stared; she was beautiful. John was just over six feet tall, and Klara was twice that - easily - and she filled out every inch of her height with a powerful, sumptuous femininity.
Water poured tantalizingly down her collar and over her sumptuously heavy breasts, teasing in painfully cruel rivulets down over her soft belly and down over her nethers. John wished he was that water.
"Come on, pet," she teased, as she took the large white fluffy towel that the resort provided and looped it over her shoulders. ""The chlorine from the jacuzzi will damage my fur's natural oils if left untreated. Help me rinse it off."
John followed Klara, his ears folding back as he realized that she was leading him to the women's shower area. He balked at the door, but she disappeared around the privacy partition, and he knew he couldn't just stay outside. She wanted him in there, so he followed after her, keeping his eyes on the ground as he scurried up close behind her. He made sure not to peek at the women dressing and undressing in the lower room around him, ears burning with a flush at the gasps of surprise as a soggy jackal scampered through the changing room.
Klara hadn't waited for him, and had made it to the glass door of the women's shower area by the time he was standing next to her. Steam billowed out as Klara's massive form pushed through the glass door, her other paw wrapping around John's wrist with casual possessiveness. Her grip dwarfed his slender jackal forearm, and she guided him into the shower, seemingly oblivious to the startled looks from the other naked women already occupying the communal space. 
John found himself thrust into an environment that would have been overwhelming under normal circumstances. The shower room was populated with an array of naked, confident women of various species, their bodies glistening with water and lathered with soap as they went about their cleansing routines. A voluptuous tigress stood beneath one of the rainfall showerheads, her orange and black stripes accentuated by the cascading water, while a curvaceous mare worked shampoo through her flowing mane with practiced efficiency. Their forms were undeniably impressive, and the woman were comfortable displaying the kind of physical confidence that came from regular exercise and self-care.
Despite the visual feast surrounding him, John's attention remained fixed on Klara. Her towering frame dominated the space, making even the generous shower stalls seem cramped. The contrast between her black fur and white chest was even more striking in the bright lighting, and droplets of water caught the light as they traced paths down her athletic form. Her dragon-like tail swished behind her with casual authority, occasionally brushing against the tiled walls as she positioned herself beneath one of the larger showerheads.
"Here," she said, handing him a bottle of scentless liquid soap from the dispenser. "Begin at the top and work downwards. Ensure complete coverage."
John accepted the bottle, his earlier arousal from the jacuzzi now amplified by their current situation. He could feel the stares of the women looking at him just as easily as he could feel the coolness of the soap against his palms as he squeezed it out of the bottle. The clear liquid caught the light as it pooled in his cupped hands, but not for long. 
Klara crouched down and turned away from him, giving him access to her upper back, and he reached up over his head to start to massage her. His paws made contact with her closer shoulder, and he began to work the soap into her fur with gentle, circular motions. The texture was decadently lush and soft beneath his touch, even wet, the bristly soft fur yielding to his ministrations as he spread the cleansing agent across her broad back. His cock was throbbing as he stroked his paws through her, appreciating the sheer scale of her physique, the way her muscles shifted subtly beneath his touch, the casual dominance she displayed even crouching down in front of him.
The water cascaded over them both as John worked his way down her spine, his hands growing bolder as he traced the contours of her athletic frame. The soap created a slick barrier between his palms and her fur, allowing his hands to glide smoothly across her, lathering but not quite touching.
She let out a pleasant groan, arching her shoulders as his palms stroked to her sides, up to the swell of her hips. John's breathing grew heavier as he bathed her in the thick lather of the scentless shampoo, his member twitching as he worked the soap into the fur along her sides, her powerful haunches, the sensitive areas where her legs met her torso. 
"Excuse me," a sharp voice interrupted their routine. A tall leopardess with spotted fur stood nearby, her arms crossed over her ample chest as she regarded them with obvious disapproval. "Men aren't allowed in the women's showers. This is a violation of spa policy."
Klara turned her massive head to regard the complainant with the same casual relaxation she gave all interruptions. Water continued to cascade over her form as she processed the objection, her expression remaining neutral despite the challenge to her authority. "John is my pet," she said with a plain matter-of-factness, as if explaining an obvious biological classification. "It's fine."
The casual designation made John blush, embarrassment flooding his system and his ears burning a beet red. She had simply dismissed his personhood, reducing him to the status of a domesticated animal in front of a room full of strangers. It was, technically, humiliating. He made sure to angle his erection away from the feline.
The leopardess looked unconvinced, but Klara's imposing presence seemed to settle the matter. With a disgusted snort, she turned away, muttering something about "freaks" under her breath as she moved to a shower stall on the opposite side of the room.
John's hands were caressing along the outer dimple of his buttocks, the burn in his cheeks nearly as hot as the stares he knew his erection was getting from the other women in the shower, observing, watching him. Perhaps his fingers slipped a bit too far up into Klara's soft spots, as she stood up abruptly, suddenly towering over him again. She looked down at him, her breasts dangling over his head, water drooling from her supple nipples and landing on his brow and shoulders as he looked up at her. 
"Great job," Klara said, "But now it's time to rinse you off, as well."
Before John could respond, her massive paws were on his shoulders, turning him around to face away from her with effortless strength. Her hand appeared by his left side, palm up, and he realized she was waiting for more of the soap. He squirted a generous amount into her palm, and there was a slick rustling sound as she stroked her paws together, before gripping and kneading him between her paws. John was being manhandled, the tauntaun's huge paws wrapping easily around the entirety of his upper arm and sliding down along it, then repeating the process for the other arm. There was a strangely ritualistic feel to it, as she stroked the thick lather into his short fur, gripping and occasionally feeling up the jackal's meaty haunches, pinching against his shoulders. The casual manhandling of his smaller form, the way she positioned him without regard for his comfort or dignity, paradoxically increased his arousal even further.
John glanced around, seeing more beautiful female bodies being washed, scrubbed, rinsed, flesh on display, female and supple and evocative. They were no more naked than he was, but he felt especially exposed and vulnerable around them, being the only male present. John's member throbbed against his belly as Klara's paws worked across his chest, down his sides, along his legs with increasing thoroughness. The contrast between her imposing strength and his helplessness in her grasp created a dynamic that made his pulse race despite his embarrassment. Around them, the other women continued their routines, some shooting curious glances their way, others pointedly ignoring the unusual display of interspecies dominance.
Klara's massive paws clamped around John's ribcage, lifting him from the shower floor with the same casual efficiency she might use to handle a bar of soap. His feet left the wet tiles as she hoisted him high into the air, water streaming from his smaller form as he found himself suspended to her level, his naked body fully exposed to the roomful of watching women. 
"Final rinse," she announced with a coy smirk, angling his body toward the streaming water. The warm spray hit his fur from multiple angles, washing away soap and chlorine as he hung passively in her grasp. There wasn't a lot he could do, since she was entirely in control of the situation, and his arousal was blatantly on display for the entire room, his proud jackal cock standing fully erect against his belly. The leopardess who'd complained earlier gasped audibly at the display, while other women throughout the shower area turned to stare at the unusual spectacle. Some looked disgusted, others curious, and a couple smiled wryly and knowingly to each other, but all were enthralled by the sight of the massive tauntaun manipulating her much smaller companion like a living doll.
"Oh, god, no. Klara, please," John whispered over his shoulder, his voice barely audible over the sound of running water. "Not here. Don't tease me like this in front of all these women!"
But as he looked down at her upturned face, his blood ran cold. Her beautiful snout, thick and blocky like a cow's, had already opened impossibly wide, her jaw distending in a way that only ever meant one thing. The insider of her maw glowed with the same pale neon bioluminescent green as her lips and nostrils, creating an eerie, almost radioactive glow. He could see right down over the wide, soft, muscular mount of her tongue to the yawning gullet at the back of her throat, more of the slippery green glow emanating from deeper down inside it. 
It was horrifyingly inviting, in all its alien beauty.
She was hungry. The realization of her intention hit in the gut, his legs instinctively curling up and away from her. She was going to eat him, here, in front of all these strangers, she was going to consume him whole just as casually as she'd mentioned eating a horse. His body understood the danger on a more primal level, as his wet fur bristled and his paws tightened in their grip around her fingers.
"No, no, no," he whispered frantically, his voice cracking with desperation. "Wait. Klara, please, wait. Don't do this. Not here. Please, Klara, I'm begging you."
His pleas fell on deaf ears, though, just as they had every other time before. She smiled up at him, her expression unchanged despite the horrifying display of her opened maw. The bioluminescent glow seemed to intensify as she lowered him toward her waiting mouth, his feet making contact with the slick surface of her tongue. The sensation was indescribably soft, warm, wet, and reactive to touch as the muscular organ flexed beneath his toes. Saliva gooped up between his toes, slightly warmer than his own body temperature even with his limbs still steaming from the heat of the jacuzzi.
"Oh my god," someone gasped from across the room. "Is she actually going to... eat him?"
The other women in the shower area had stopped their routines entirely, some backing away in horror while others pressed closer with morbid fascination. A few seemed unsurprised by the display, as if they'd witnessed similar acts before, their expressions ranging from mild interest to casual indifference.
John's struggles were utterly futile against Klara's casually overwhelming strength. She drooped him deeper into her mouth, her tongue stroking along his heels with an intimate dexterity. The bioluminescent glow intensified around his calves as they disappeared into her maw, creating an ethereal light show that made the horrifying act appear almost beautiful.
"Klara, please," he continued to beg, his voice growing more desperate as inches of his legs vanished into her mouth. "I don't want this. Why?? Why are you eating me?" His voice raised up in pitch, "Please, I'm sorry for whatever I did wrong!"
But she continued, methodically, her throat muscles working with practiced efficiency as she swallowed his calves, then his knees. His legs were pinched together as her feet slid into the hotter, slimier hug of her throat. The sensation of her throat's hot, slick walls kneading his flesh from all sides was exquisitely stimulating, and despite his terror, his body responded to the full-body massage with even more graphic, unwanted arousal. His cock knotted, the length darkening from light gray to black, the fluted tip wiggling against the wet, ticklish fur of his belly.
His thighs disappeared next, the width of Klara's mouthful growing with the meaty haunches of the hunky jackal. She shifted her grip, sliding both hands up to grip his shoulders, and then pulling down on them to force his body into hers, to sheath him more easily between her jaws. 
John let out a strangled cry as her lower lip mouth slid over his tightened scrotum, along the swollen bulbs of his shaft. She pursed her lips, the sloppily thick, fleshy, hot lip compressing downwards as it slid over and engulfed his cock into the heated air of her maw. His rump slid over the dull, broad teeth of her upper jaw. The combination of terror and involuntary pleasure created a feedback loop that made coherent thought almost impossible.
"Stop watching!" he managed to gasp, his face burning with humiliation as he realized the entire room was witnessing his degradation. He tried to wave at the multitudes of females who were watching him be eaten. "Please, just look away!"
But the women didn't look away. They watched, passively, as the massive tauntaun systematically consumed her partner. Some had taken out their cell phones, filming the scene, while others rested their fingers intimately close along their wet snatches, but none turned away from the disturbing spectacle. The shower was muggy and heavily scented with their shampoos, conditioners, and the sweet salt of their growing arousal. 
Klara's tongue probed upwards over his legs as his thighs and groin slid along it, the texture rough and wet, like a hot towel wrapped over a flexible pillow. It stroked rough and firm along his trapped member, applying pressure and friction in an exotic way that made his protests deteriorate into helpless whimpering. Her throat muscles contracted rhythmically, pulling him deeper with each swallow while simultaneously squeezing around every inch of him. The bioluminescent glow pulsed around his lower body like a living aurora, beautiful and terrible in its alien radiance. She knew what she was doing... but of course she did, she had done it before.
"Please," he whispered one final time, his voice breaking as she swallowed his hips and began working up over his stomach. "I don't want to die like this." But even as he spoke the words, his body betrayed him completely. The overwhelming stimulation of being consumed, the full-body massage of her throat muscles, the heat and pressure surrounding his most sensitive areas, it all combined, pushing him over the edge despite his cascading terror. His engulfed hips bucked, stroking his dick along the groove on the center of her tongue, and began to squirt in a convulsive climax. 
The shame of climaxing while being eaten alive, in front of a room full of strangers, added another layer of psychological torment to his physical ordeal. His cries of unwanted pleasure mixed with his sobs of terror, groaning and moaning and gasping as he was slurped down whole.He grasped, hugging around her lower jaw as his buttocks flexed, grinding against her tongue, but if she noticed the diminutive splash of his salty pleasure, she didn't notice. He felt himself being dragged down into her, her fingers pushing down on his shoulders to tuck him deeper and deeper into her hot endless gullet.
Klara paused for a second, as her fingers moved to hook under his elbows, gripping under them and prying them away from her jaws. He had been swallowed up to his chest, his belly resting on her slimy tongue, his dick still twitching and drooling the last of its seed down into Klara's throat. 
As she lifted her arms away, she swallowed, and his hands grasped at the air as his shoulders disappeared between her green glowing lips.
"Jesus Christ," the leopardess complained nearby - John couldn't see her, but could hear the disdain in her voice. "How is that legal?"
With practiced ease, Klara used her thumb to tuck John's head into her mouth, his final desperate protests cut short as his skull disappeared between her lips. John had one last glimpse of the ceiling of the sauna, and of Klara's massive paw, before those glowing, fleshy lips closed together, sealing him into the green nimbus of the inside of her maw. One final, powerful swallow caught the entirety of his legs and torso, and dragged him down her throat, his form visible as a bulge traveling down her elongated neck before disappearing into her torso.
The shower room fell silent except for the sound of running water and several women's shocked breathing. Klara closed her mouth with a satisfied sigh, her expression returning to its usual clinical calm as if nothing extraordinary had just occurred, despite the massive bulge that was sliding down her throat, the bulk of John's body causing her breasts to jut outwards as it passed by just behind them.
For John, the descent through Klara's throat was both endless and terrifyingly brief. His body sank through the hypnotically undulating tunnel of her esophagus, as powerful waves of peristalsis dragged him deeper and deeper. The tauntaun's throat grew snugger, hotter, more muscular and less slimy as he slid down it, claustraphobically closing in around him. The muscular contractions were impossibly strong, each wave crushing the air from his lungs before relaxing just enough to allow him a desperate gasp before the next compression. The bioluminescent secretions that coated the passage made everything slippery and strange, and the pale green glow that was softly beautiful from outside now surrounded him completely, pulsing with each heartbeat in a rhythm that matched his own terrified pants. The walls pressed against him from all sides, slick and warm and undeniably alive, kneading his flesh with animal hunger as it guided him down into his inevitable destination. He could feel himself being deposited into her stomach, knees folding as his legs curled naturally to fit inside the elastic pouch. 
He tried to brace himself against the walls, his claws scrambling for purchase on the smooth surface, but the muscular contractions were too powerful to resist. Each attempt to slow his descent only resulted in his limbs being pinned painfully against his body as another wave of peristalsis forced him deeper into Klara's digestive tract. The sound of his own heartbeat thundered in his ears, mixing with the wet, rhythmic sounds of her internal processes. His dick was briefly freed from being stroked and ground along that smooth hot slick throat, finding a moment to flex in the space he was being pushed down into, and then John found himself being squirted with a muscular, innate contraction, forced down into the glowing green digestive chamber of his girlfriend's stomach. The space easily accommodated his form as he twisted over onto his back, his legs folded up with his knees almost to his chest. 


John could not see any light filtering in from outside, but he was confronted with the familiar sight of the pale, mucusy, slimy inside of her belly. The walls curved around him in organic patterns, their surface glistening with moisture that reflected the same eerie bioluminescent glow that had marked his passage through her throat.
For a moment, he allowed himself to hope. Maybe she had just eaten him for fun, and would be regurgitating him once out of view of the other women in the shower room. A prank, a silly little joke, just something to tease him or treat him for being so caring and supportive of her. Maybe he would be alright. 
But then, as he shifted position, trying to find a more comfortable arrangement in the confined space, he felt the first stinging, slimy drip on his cheek. The walls around him were beginning to secrete a thick, viscous fluid that oozed from pores above and around him. This liquid was denser, more purposeful, and it carried with it the unmistakable scent of digestive enzymes than the glowing slime of her mouth and throat. This was her hunger made manifest. She was already digesting him.
Before, he had passed out shortly after making it into her stomach, passing away with the vague burning tingling of her digestive enzymes just starting to eat into his body. This time, she had swallowed air - lots of air - and he didn't think he would be so lucky as to skip the 'fun' parts of her meal. The first drops that soaked down through his fur felt warm and slightly tingly, almost pleasant against his skin. But as more of the secretion began to flow, coating the walls and pooling around his rump in the lowest areas of the chamber, the tingling sensation intensified into something far more sinister. The fluid was beginning to burn, not with the sharp pain of fire but with a slow, methodical itch and sting of a chemical reaction catalyzing with his flesh.
"No," he shouted into the glowing darkness, his voice barely audible over the wet sounds of Klara's internal processes as she gurgled and growled around him. "Klara, I can feel this! Klara, it burns! Help me!"
But the burning sensation was spreading across his fur, the digestive goo eating away at his natural protections with clinical efficiency. His scientific mind recognized what was happening even as his emotional psyche recoiled from the reality of it all. The enzymes were designed to break down organic matter, to reduce complex proteins and tissues into their component nutrients. He was being dissolved alive, molecule by molecule, in a process that would leave nothing but the essential elements to be absorbed by her system.
The pain began as a low, constant burn across his skin, like the worst sunburn he'd ever experienced. Unlike external burns, this sensation came from within his very tissues as the digestive fluids penetrated his fur and began working on his skin directly. Simply shifting his arm to push out against her belly, trying to signal to her, caused his skin to peel and fissure, splitting to reveal the fat pockets underneath. Every nerve ending screamed in protest as the enzymes attacked his cellular structure, breaking down the bonds that held his body together.


"Klara!" he screamed, his voice echoing off the stomach walls with desperate intensity. "Klara, don't do this! I'm still alive in here! Please, let me out!"
But no response came from the world beyond the glowing chamber. The only sounds were the rhythmic contractions of her digestive system and the wet, bubbling noises of the acidic secretions continuing their work. His cries for help were trapped within her body, as helpless as he was to escape the methodical dissolution that was consuming him.
The burning intensified as more of the digestive goo accumulated, the level rising around his curled form like a caustic bath. Where the fluid touched his skin, his fur began to dissolve, leaving patches of raw, exposed flesh that burned with agonizing intensity. The process was slow enough that he could feel every stage of his dissolution, his body being reduced to its component parts while his consciousness remained terrifyingly intact. He could feel it seeping up into his asshole, dissolving the skin of his scrotum, seeping down into his sheath. His naked erection twitched in the acrid goop, but he could not even reach down to try and protect it, because he had to keep his hands over his face, protecting his eyes and nose and mouth from the rain of goo from above. It ran down his forearms, taking fur and skin with it, and he felt chunks, swatches of his own skin, nudging against his thighs after having sluiced free of his limbs.
"This isn't how it's supposed to happen," he gasped, his voice growing weaker as the pain overwhelmed his ability to think clearly. "I'm supposed to be giving that presentation tomorrow. I'm supposed to revolutionize agriculture. I'm supposed to..."
But the cruel reality was that his tomorrow was being reduced to nothing more than nutrients for Klara's alien metabolism. All his scientific knowledge, his dreams of changing the world, his complex inner life? Pfft.  None of that mattered in the face of this biological inevitability. He was prey, nothing more, being processed by a predator's digestive system with the same efficiency that had marked all of her interactions with him.
The stomach walls began to contract around him, massaging the digestive fluids deeper into his dissolving tissues, and grinding his limbs against his body. The first contractive heave was torture, as muscles split open, skin ripped away, as the hungry goo was kneaded and seeping into every nook and cranny. He had kept his face above most of it, but what was the point now? His left eye was just a blur of green, and as his right arm was compressed against his belly, his fingers, numb as they were, went through the melting flesh. He  blindly groped, not sure what he was feeling, but knowing that it was parts of him that he was never supposed to touch. Another compressive wave sent a fresh surge of agony through his nervous system as the enzymes worked their way into his muscle fibers, his organs, his very bones. The bioluminescent glow seemed to pulse in rhythm with his fading heartbeat, a beautiful aurora that marked the final stages of his existence. His desperate pleas dissolved into incoherent sobbing as the pain became too intense to bear. The scientific part of his mind shut down, overwhelmed by the biological reality of being consumed alive. In the glowing darkness of Klara's stomach, surrounded by the caustic bath of her digestive secretions, John Victor's consciousness began to fade as his body surrendered to the inevitable process of dissolution. 
~        *        ~        *        ~        *        ~
Klara's belly had swollen to accommodate her recent meal, the distinctive bulge of John's form visible beneath her black fur as she moved through the shower area with her characteristic grace. The other women parted before her imposing presence, some unable to look away from the obvious evidence of her predatory nature, others pointedly averting their eyes as if witnessing nothing unusual. The distended curve of her stomach stretched her natural proportions, but she carried the additional weight with the same casual efficiency she brought to all physical challenges.
Water still dripped from her fur as she made her way toward the exit, her dragon-like tail swishing behind her with satisfied contentment. The bioluminescent glow that had been visible in her mouth earlier now seemed to emanate faintly from within her torso, a subtle pulse that synchronized with her heartbeat and cast an ethereal light through the translucent areas of her white underbelly. One could almost see a darker shape outlined by that glow, a shape that was still squirming inside its glowing pressure cooker of a home.
"Excuse me," called a voice from behind her. A well-muscled doberman with sleek black fur approached, her expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Are you alright? You look... different."
Klara turned with her characteristic measured attention, processing the question with the same analytical precision she applied to all social interactions. "I'm just peachy keen," she replied, with a light hearted laugh. "I just had a protein shake, so I'm feeling quite... energized."
The casual euphemism for what the entire room had witnessed was delivered with such matter-of-fact sincerity that several nearby women exchanged glances of disbelief. Klara's paw moved to pat her distended belly with obvious satisfaction, the gesture both affectionate and proprietary as she acknowledged her meal's contribution to her nutritional needs.
"That was quite a, uh, shake," the doberman commented carefully, her eyes fixed on the obvious bulge that disrupted Klara's normally athletic silhouette. "Is that... normal for you?"
"Oh, yes. Shakes like those are highly nutritious," Klara confirmed, her clinical tone unchanged despite the bizarre nature of the conversation. "Jackals, in particular, provide excellent protein content, and they digest very quickly. It's all very efficient... from a metabolic standpoint."
The doberman's ears flattened against her skull, clearly disturbed by the casual discussion of what she'd just witnessed. "Doesn't it bother you that he's... that he was a person?"
Klara's brow furrowed, and she let out a small, puzzled laugh. "Um, no. I'm not concerned about it. He'll be back tomorrow," she said, as if explaining an obvious biological fact. "This is a temporary inconvenience for him, though I understand he finds the process somewhat distressing."


The conversation was interrupted by a muffled sound from within Klara's belly, a faint cry that seemed to emanate from somewhere deep within her torso. The doberman's eyes widened in horror as she realized the implications, while Klara simply looked down at her stomach with mild interest.
"He's still conscious in there," the doberman whispered, her voice barely audible over the background noise of the shower room.
"That's unusual," Klara agreed. "Normally he just cums and passes out on the way down. Admittedly, he is squirming delightfully in there - it's like he's helping himself digest. He's so thoughtful, that way."
The casual discussion of John's ongoing dissolution was too much for the doberman, who backed away with obvious revulsion before hurrying toward the exit. Klara watched her retreat with the same bemused smile she had worn when she had decided to eat John in the first place, and then she continued her own journey toward the locker room with undiminished contentment.
In the changing area, the muffled sounds from within her belly continued as she dressed, John's weakening protests creating a barely audible soundtrack to her preparations. She seemed to find the internal soundtrack oddly comforting, occasionally pausing in her dressing to press her paw against her stomach with affectionate propriety.
"Please," came a faint, desperate cry from within her torso, barely audible even in the relative quiet of the locker room. "I don't want to die like this. Please let me out."
Klara paused in buttoning her shirt, her head tilted slightly as she listened to the plea with the same attention she might give to interesting data. "Oh, just imagine the mess if I left you out now," she said, as she groomed the fur of her chest and neck with a short curry comb. "Ugh, and I hate the taste of stomach bile. Just give it up, John. You're being digested now. That's your job. That's your point."
The struggles within her belly were growing noticeably weaker, John's movements becoming less coordinated as the digestive process continued its methodical work. What had begun as desperate thrashing had deteriorated into feeble twitches, the enzymes clearly affecting his motor functions as they broke down his cellular structure. The bioluminescent glow from within her torso seemed to pulse more slowly, as if synchronizing with his failing life signs.
"That's better," she murmured, patting her belly with genuine affection as the internal movements gradually ceased. "Much more comfortable for both of us."
The other women in the locker room had been watching the interaction with varying degrees of fascination and revulsion. Some seemed genuinely disturbed by Klara's casual treatment of what they'd witnessed, while others appeared more accepting of the predatory display. A few even nodded approvingly, as if recognizing the natural order being demonstrated.


"See you tomorrow, Snackal," Klara said cheerfully, giving her belly one final affectionate pat before gathering her belongings. The pet name was delivered with the same casual warmth she might use for any cherished possession, the affection genuine despite the horrific context.
As she headed toward the exit, her movements had already adjusted to accommodate her temporary change in dimensions, her characteristic grace undiminished by the additional weight. The bulge in her belly had settled into a more comfortable position, and the faint bioluminescent glow was barely visible through her clothing.
Behind her, the other women continued their routines with varying degrees of normalcy, some clearly shaken by what they'd witnessed while others seemed to accept it as just another day at the spa. Some of them may not agree with what had just happened, but it wasn't like they were going to try and stop her, right?
________________


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The mountain air was crisp and clean as Klara navigated the winding trail up Mount Paneednock, her powerful legs carrying her upward with steady determination. Her belly had returned to its normal proportions overnight, the digestive process having completed its work with characteristic efficiency, leaving her feeling energized and refreshed as she pursued her planned hiking expedition. The morning sun filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns across the forest floor as she moved with her characteristic grace through the wilderness.
The trail wound upward through diverse ecosystems, exactly as she'd anticipated from her topographical research. Douglas firs gave way to mountain hemlock as she gained elevation, their ancient branches reaching toward the sky with dignified permanence. The flora was indeed diverse at different altitudes, just as she'd predicted, and she paused occasionally to examine interesting specimens with scientific curiosity.
Her hiking boots found sure purchase on the rocky path, her athletic frame adapted perfectly to the physical demands of the ascent. The backpack she carried contained water, energy bars, and field guides, all organized with the same methodical precision she brought to every endeavor. There was something deeply satisfying about the solitary pursuit of physical challenge, the way her body responded to the demands of the mountain terrain with efficient performance.
"What a great workout, John. Aren't you glad you got to come along?" She teased, her paw moved unconsciously to pat her flat stomach, a gesture that had become habitual since the previous evening. The sensation was oddly comforting, a physical reminder of her successful nutritional intake and the efficient processing of her digestive system. She had invited John to come along with her, but he had, in silly fashion, thought that he could turn her down.
The trail continued upward through alpine meadows where wildflowers bloomed in vibrant displays of color. Mountain lupines created purple cascades across the slopes, while Indian paintbrush added splashes of orange and red to the natural palette. The beauty of the scenery was exactly what she'd hoped for, a perfect complement to the physical challenge of the hike.
After several hours of steady climbing, she reached a scenic overlook that provided panoramic views of the valley below. The vista was spectacular, with rolling hills stretching to the horizon and a pristine lake reflecting the morning sky like a mirror. She paused to hydrate and appreciate the natural splendor, absent-mindedly cataloguing the various geological features visible from her elevated position.
"These erosion patterns are particularly interesting," she observed, though there was no one present to hear her commentary. "The glacial activity in this region must have been quite extensive during the last ice age."


As she prepared to continue her ascent, she became aware of a pressing biological need. The combination of her morning coffee and the steady hydration during her hike had reached a point where bathroom facilities were required. Looking around the deserted trail, she identified a cluster of large pine trees that would provide adequate privacy for her purposes. She didn't need privacy, but there was no reason to stink up other people's hikes if she could avoid it.
Moving off the main trail, she found a suitable spot behind a massive Douglas fir whose trunk was easily four feet in diameter. The forest floor beneath her was soft with decades of accumulated pine needles, creating a natural carpet that muffled any sounds. Around her, the mountain wilderness continued its eternal rhythms, bird songs echoing through the trees while a gentle breeze stirred the branches overhead. The tree's ancient bark was deeply furrowed and rich with the scent of pine sap, creating a natural screen that would shield her from any unlikely passersby. She set down her backpack and squatted down, knees spread wide and leaning forward slightly to help with the process.
The initial stages of her bowel movement proceeded normally, her body processing the waste products of her recent meal, and discharging it out onto the pine needles in hot, steaming splatters and plops. What she was ejecting from her body had, at one point, been a conscious and caring jackal, but that was yesterday. Today, he was just shit. She leaned forward, straining and clenching down to blow out a considerable hunk of mass. Flesh, fur, even bones had been almost completely digested, but there were hints of what it had all been before; the occasional shock of long hair, now stained brown, or the softened, eroded jut of a femur. There was one final obstruction that needed expelling as well. She strained, feeling the more solid, smooth, boney shape of the jackal's skull probing its way out of her ass. It came out snout first, teeth breaking off against her sphincter as she clenched down along it to help extrude it. The sensation was unusual but not uncomfortable, more like passing a particularly large stone than anything organic.
With a final push, the object emerged and dropped on top of the pile of feces with a splat that seemed unusually loud in the quiet wilderness. Looking down between her legs, Klara was able to confirm that John's skull was perfectly intact, its bone structure bleached white by the powerful acids of her digestive system. The cranium was completely clean, stripped of all soft tissue but retaining its distinctive shape and proportions. She had expected no less. She wasn't sure what would happen if she had bore down, and crushed the skull with her ass as she extruded it - it might interfere with his regenerative process, perhaps - but she knew that he was the only one of her victims whose skull came out so remarkably perfect.
"Fascinating," she murmured, and then smiled. She shifted her stance, scooting slightly backwards, and sighed happily as she released her urine as well. It poured down over, baptising the freshly deposited skull with the blessing of her old piss - piss that was, also, mostly the residue of John. The hot urine steamed as it soaked into the bones, and she wondered if he would come back smelling like it. The idea was cute, but then she thought of eating something that tasted like her own urine, and her smile disappeared. Gross.


She finished, and stood, leaving the skull to sparkle wetly in its little nest of feces, left on the side of the mountain. She stretched her arms over her head, enjoying the view. The skull was facing away, down the mountain, and it was a beautiful sight. 
"Well, well," she said cheerfully, as she pulled her pants back up and fastened her drawstring. "Looks like you got to see the countryside after all, John. Now, isn't that better than some dumb presentation?"
Her tone was conversational, almost affectionate, as if she were addressing an old friend rather than the remains of her dissolved partner. If John had been there, she was sure he would agree that the hiking expedition represented a superior experience to whatever mundane business obligations John had been concerned about.
Klara picked up her backpack. The biological necessity had been completed successfully, and she felt refreshed and ready to continue her ascent. The skull would remain behind as a small contribution to the forest ecosystem, probably discovered eventually by some other hiker or perhaps claimed by scavengers who would find whatever nutrients remained in the bone structure. Above her, the summit of Mount Paneednock beckoned with its promise of even more spectacular views and challenging terrain.
The trail continued upward through increasingly sparse vegetation, and Klara resumed her steady pace with renewed energy. Behind her, the skull remained where she'd left it, a small white monument to the casual brutality of predatory relationships, soon to be covered by falling pine needles and forgotten by the natural world's endless cycle of consumption and renewal. She'd see John again, soon, and she'd probably eat him again, soon after that. It was just the way things were - the way things were supposed to be.