Ecstasy and Venison ---------- Note: This story contains highly extreme content, including graphic acts of strong, non-consensual physical and sexual violence committed against sentient juvenile characters. It is not recommended for sensitive readers, and may not be legal in certain jurisdictions. This content is written strictly for artistic, therapeutic, and fantasy purposes, and the author fully condemns any type of real-world abuse of children, animals, or anyone else. ----- Thousands of millennia ago, perhaps hundreds of thousands, the plains upon which the city now stands were filled with the great herds—those massive and homogenous swarms that thundered across the land in search of forage. And wherever they travelled, invariably, the sleek predators followed, their ever-ravenous eyes scanning the masses, seeking signs of weakness. The law of nature ruled then, and these hungry beasts were its enforcers. They fed on the old, the sick—and, often, the young. A wandering yearling, a incautious calf... it only took one mistake, one brief moment, and then the brutes would be upon it, tear it, rend the soft flesh, ravage the fledgling body to fuel their own. Some of the brood would thrive, and some would inevitably end their short lives in a carnivore's stomach. This was the law, and the law was harsh, but never amoral. Over the eons, evolution brought great changes to the herds and predators alike, and to all the creatures of field and forest. They grew aware, then sentient; their forms slowly shifted from quadruped to biped as their minds expanded to encapsulate grand new horizons. They developed languages, cultures, and creeds, and the law of kill-or-be-killed began to slip away. Eventually, they built the cities, and there they now live in relative harmony, the old law forgotten. Or, perhaps, all but forgotten? Does not some trace of even the most base instinct remain in these descendants? Suppressed in most, surely, but still faintly simmering, smoldering, and in the occasional individual, roaring back to life in all its primal, blazing, atavistic fury? The tiger Blaze takes one last look in the mirror and flashes a grin, sunset light glinting off of one keen eyetooth. Tonight, he once again honors his ancestors. Tonight he once again hunts the young.... ----- It is said that once upon a time the city was a shining exemplar of a metropolis, a bustling hub of commerce, industry, and construction that was esteemed by all as being among the greatest in the land. If the image of those halcyon days was ever true, however, it has been left in the distant past. Today, most of the city is a dilapidated wreck, with only a few middle-class enclaves dotted among the impoverished masses, the old and abandoned infrastructure crumbling into inevitable ruin. Many residents find this state disagreeable, but it suits a degenerate like Blaze just fine. He runs his own small-time drug operation, profitable enough to pay his bills and enable his… unique hobby. He is a cautious feline, prudent in his dealings, always making sure that he remains low-profile enough to stay off of anyone's radar. The same, of course, applies to his hunts. The tiger strolls through the twilit city casually, surveying his surroundings, searching for a target. There is rarely any particular shortage of options. Among the streets of the city, the cubs from poor homes scamper freely, playing, begging, stealing whatever they can get their grubby paws on. These urchins are fairly clever—they travel in packs, and have that unique shrewdness of those who were raised to fend for themselves. But still, they are just children—easily deceived, more easily overpowered. And best of all, nobody raises too much of a fuss when one or two go missing. It is a large city, after all—and so many poor—who can keep track of every little brat—? In one alleyway, Blaze spies a couple of young boys playing a ball game. A coyote pup, he thinks, and a rabbit—or a hare, he can't quite tell. Quietly, he observes them for a while, considering. The cubs' clothes are ratty and torn, bearing the patches and stitches of much amateur tailoring. But they exude vivacity, these laughing children, as they whack the ball up and down the alley, slender frames bounding light-footed over the concrete. So spirited, so very tempting… Blaze began imagining scenarios, imagining the things he could do to those tiny bodies, just on the verge of formulating a plan— "Chester! Bryan! Dinner; come 'n' get it!" The call drifts from an upper-story window, and the boys scamper off. Blaze sighs, but not without relief—that would have been careless, unlike him. He slips away now, taking a different path, alongside a riverside park that has been a profitable hunting ground for him in the past. Cubs often play there, and it is never uncommon for one to end up separated from his or her peers, perhaps not for long, but just for long enough… Yet, tonight, the park is deserted, even oddly so for such a fine evening. Perhaps some major event is taking place, something he has been uncharacteristically unaware of? Or perhaps the park has gained a sinister reputation of late… naturally, something to which he would hardly be innocent of contributing. He is so engrossed in this line of thought that, coming around a bend, he almost stumbles over the small form quietly sitting alongside the path. The foliage throws a shadow over the form that makes it hard to even notice, let alone identify. Nevertheless, as the form gasps and looks upwards at the sudden appearance of the tall, powerfully built tiger, Blaze's senses instantly sharpen back to full focus: what have I here? The petite little fawn stared up at him with surprise and astonishment in her big, sky-blue eyes; instinctively, she scrambles backwards slightly from the adult looming over her. A fawn, yes—female. She looks about eight years old, this small deer girl, with a splash of dirty-blond hair between her upright ears and, beneath her ragged shirt and short pants, a tan-tawny coat dappled with light spots. Her face radiates youthful cuteness; her child's body is slender, lithe, supple, perhaps four feet tall with the slightest feminine curve: a model of young cervine beauty from hoof to bushy tail. She sits, frozen in the twilight, looking up, looking so small, so utterly helpless before him… This lovely, tempting nymphet, alone—a perfect gift, dropped right into Blaze's lap. He knows that he has to act fast: the first impression is always critical. Friendly smile, crouch down, look meek and unthreatening… "I'm sorry! I didn't see you!" Blaze says sheepishly, amiably. "Are you all right?" In his mind, he is already undressing the girl, imagining her in her nude glory, sprawled before him, utterly at the mercy of his fangs and claws and cock, already beginning to swell in his pants—"Are you okay?" The disarming charm works; it generally does. "Uh huh," the girl says, still looking wary, but less so. "What's your name?" "… Evelyn." "Evelyn—what a nice name! I'm Max." Pseudonym, always, in case something went wrong. "What are you doing out here, Evelyn? Is your mommy or daddy around?" An innocent enough question, but oh so critical... She looks away—a painful topic, perhaps. It often is for street kids. "Nuh-uh." Good. "Is that your doll?" Blaze has just noticed that little Evelyn is carrying a toy, a small stuffed monkey. The item looks more than slightly worse for the wear: it is filthy and ragged, covered in still-wet mud, with a tail hanging by a thread and both eyes missing. "What happened to him?" Now an angry spark lights in her eyes (oh, fiery, he likes that) and she looks up at him, clutching the toy. "He's Bananas the monkey, and—and Julie and Lilith and that stupid Zoey s-stole him and they threw—they him on the ground and they stepped on him and ripped him and called me names and they're—they're—they're a bunch of big dumb meanies—" Those eyes are starting to well up now. "Hey, hey. That's terrible; I'm sorry." Save your tears, kid, he thinks; you'll need them soon enough... "They sound awful. They're just jealous of you 'cause you have such a cool buddy." Blaze holds out a paw. "Can I see him?" She reluctantly passes over the doll; the tiger makes a show of inspecting the damage. "You know—I might be able to fix him up a bit for you. Would you like that?" The fawn looks startled. "Y-you can do that?" "Of course. I—I'm actually a toymaker." Oh, the younger children are so wonderfully easy; they'll swallow even the most outrageous stories, made up on the spot. He plows ahead: "I repair guys like Bananas here all the time. It's my job. I'm like a doctor!" ----- Evelyn watches this Max warily. If there's one thing she knows, it's that grown-ups are big on making promises they don't keep. She hates them for that, hates her stupid mom and stepdad and the lies they always tell her just to make her go away so they can use their bad drugs. That's why she spends her nights with the other kids—at least they're honest when they're mean, and they're not always mean, anyway. But Max seems different from those lying adults. He looks nice, tall and handsome, dressed well, like a guy from one of the moving pictures that Evelyn sneaks into sometimes. She likes his smile, his orange fur color, his cool stripes. And he's a toy doctor—he can help Bananas! "Tell you what," Max says to her now. "I can fix him for you. But I have to take him to my workshop. All my tools are there." She hesitates. "I—" Max is nice, but... let her beloved Bananas out of her sight? He looks to be considering for a moment. "Would you want to come, too? It'll be quick. You know Bananas better than me. Maybe you should be there so I don't make any mistakes?" Evelyn seizes the chance. "Yes!" she says, jumping to her hooves. As she does so, her stomach growls. In her misery before, she hadn't noticed it, but—"Hey, d'you have anything to eat?" She isn't so slender for no reason; her meals are sporadic, predictable, and small, and she hasn't eaten in a day. Begging for food is nothing new to her. Max smiles again—she likes that smile. "You know, I think that I do." He hands Bananas back to her, then rummages around in a back pocket. "Do you like chocolate nut bars?" He produces three of them—the city's most popular brand. "For my new friend. You can eat them while we walk." She grabs the bars happily and tears into them as she follows the tiger through the park, watching his striped tail swish behind him. How much better her night has just gotten, thanks to this kind grown-up! Max talks to her as they go, telling her about other toys that he has made and repaired for other boys and girls. Evelyn listens, rapt, although she is starting to feel a bit sleepy. No, have to stay awake... for Bananas... By the time that they arrive at an automobile parked along one of the city's side streets, she is yawning freely and struggling to keep her eyes open. She vaguely senses Max helping her into a back seat, onto the comfy leather, and then her eyelids close and she welcomes a pleasant, dreamless sleep... ----- In the driver's seat, Blaze smirks. It's always a delicate calculation, knowing just how much of his more soporific drugs to put in those bars. It wasn't necessary, probably—he already handled the girl flawlessly—but, hey, she did ask for something to eat. He leans back and strokes the adorable, peaceful eight-year-old form lying unconscious across his back seat, feeling a thrill of anticipation. "Evelyn, Evelyn," he murmurs. "You're going to be so much fun, Evelyn..." Then he yanks the ragged stuffed monkey out of her hands, rolls down the window, and carelessly tosses it into the gutter. A moment later, the car is speeding off into the night, away from the city, into the forested countryside. ----- A little less than an hour later, the vehicle arrives at a small cabin, deep within the swampy woods west of the city. It takes five different dirt logging roads to access, and is just about as far off the grid as it is possible to get. There is not a marked address within ten miles. A gasoline generator provides all electricity; a rain basin does for water. For years, the cabin was owned by a local lumberjack with hermetical tendencies, until one of the many dangers of his profession finally got the better of him. It was snapped up on auction by an anonymous buyer, and forgotten to the world. It is a place of complete solitude, seclusion, secrecy. It is a place beyond the rules of civilization. And it is here that Blaze brings his unfortunate young victims, here where he expends them to slake his twin tigerish desires: a savage lust and a voracious appetite. Two weeks ago, it was a red fox kit named Elias, an intrepid and handsome boy of perhaps ten who followed him willingly at the promise of pinball games. Blaze showed him a game of a different sort, stroking Elias to his first-ever climax, then roughly taking his own pleasure of the kit's backside, plundering him beneath his flopping, bushy tail as the boy howled in pain and protest. No sooner had Blaze satisfied this need than the other arose, and he ate the child alive. Elias shrieked and shrieked as razor claws ripped into his abdomen and cruel fangs locked into his innards. The tiger bit again and again, tearing away chunk after chunk of the kit's hot, tender flesh, chewing, swallowing, savoring the rich taste of raw, living cub. When after several minutes the young fox shuddered one last time and fell quiet, Blaze was still feasting too intently to notice. The week after, he forcibly kidnapped two otter siblings on a day when his hunger outpaced his randiness. He didn't bother with their names or ages; he simply used his bare claws and teeth to tear the older sister limb from limb in a frenzied spray of offal that splattered on him and her horrified little brother alike. Licking the gore from his maw, Blaze then stalked the other petrified pup, pouncing on him violently and fastening tawny paws around the boy's smooth-furred neck. He strangled the young otter slowly, relishing the fear in the child's wide eyes, a panicked gaze that eventually dimmed into blankness. For a change of pace, the tiger skinned him, cooked the mustelid meat with vegetables, and demurely dined upon the youths' mortal remains with his own fur still soaked in their blood. And most recently, the cute cheetah cub, Fiona, six if a day, innocence incarnate, a sweet, unsuspecting child who Blaze found wandering lost in the streets. He spoke kindly to her, calmed her, reassured her, took her to the cabin, fed her, bathed her, and dried her. Then he tied her to a bed face-down, mounted her, and brutally raped her half a dozen times. Her terrified cries and sobs only added to his sadistic euphoria as he fucked her tight cunt and tighter ass both, gripping the little girl in his paws, snarling while his powerful and blood-slick cock viciously ripped through her, her bones cracking under his crushing thrusts. Again and again he violated the tiny cub, pummeling her insides, pumping them full of his essence, until at last she went silent, her frail body forever broken. This time, Blaze declined to eat her—for whatever reason, he rarely found a taste for the meat of other felines. Now it is Evelyn's turn. Blaze has been considering precisely what fate the fawn should suffer since first setting eyes on her, although often it simply comes down to his spur-of-the-moment whims. Variety is the spice of life, naturally, and the tiger finds it pleasing to mix up exactly how he treats his young guests. Sometimes, he prefers them heavily drugged and compliant, for instance; other days, he likes a little fight with his rape. On occasion, he will keep one for a few extra days, willingly or not, drawing out the experience. There is only one inviolate rule: once a cub has entered his cabin, he or she never leaves it alive. Evelyn's ultimate doom, at least, is certain. He gently lifts the still-sleeping child out of the back seat and carries her inside. She is light in his powerful arms, exhaling soft, warm breath onto his chest fur. His paws squeeze her small body ever so softly, feeling the tender flesh beneath her clothes and her velvety coat. He can feel her pulse, her heartbeat, the thumping of her innocent little life. Even her smell tantalizes him: sweetly earthen, the odor of youth and wild vitality, of succulent prey. Soon, now... The top floor of the cabin is unremarkable: a kitchen, some tasteful furnishings of a pioneer theme, a fireplace, a couple of bedrooms, etcetera. It is camouflage, mostly, for those times when Blaze wishes to keep his quarry at ease. The underground basement, now—the basement is the tiger's den, and his playpen. Through the hatchway, Blaze hoists Evelyn down into those stygian depths, lighting a few gloaming candles along the wall as he goes. At the bottom, he lays her down, locks the trap door behind him, and finishes illuminating the cellar with lamplight. Satisfied, he takes a brief moment to survey his domain: his personal sex dungeon and slaughterhouse, complete with beds, mattresses, poles, cabinets of toys and weaponry, tables, benches, hooks upon hooks, ropes everywhere... and that is just at a glance. How many cubs has he brought here by now; how many children has he tortured, raped, executed, devoured? He lost count long ago. At one point, he kept a scrapbook of their photos for the purposes of reminiscing—but that was foolhardy, of course, dreadfully incautious, and he burned it years ago. Evelyn is still sleeping, lying on a bloodstained mattress (where, Blaze does recall, he cut out the heart of an seven-year-old raccoon a month ago, eating it raw in front of the agonized boy's fading eyes). He kneels beside her, taking her angelic face in his paws, studying it closely. He can't resist any longer... Blaze lowers his muzzle to hers, presses her to him, and begins to kiss her. She moans softly in her unknowing slumber as he pushes her lips apart with his own and pushes past them. He kisses her roughly, lustily, his maw mashed against her, his hungry tigerish tongue filling her mouth, taking its first taste of her flavor, as delicious as he had imagined, warm and wet softness garnished with the aftertaste of his drugged candy. Soon, pulling away slightly, he takes a small knife from and carefully begins cutting free the girl's clothing. Of course, he could pull it off, or rip it with his claws, but this tremendously arouses him: the slow, methodical rhythm... the blade so close to her flesh... as the garments' shreds fall away to reveal her virginal, prepubescent nudity. Her chest is a pale beige down to her inner thighs, with small pink nipples on unformed breasts and a thin slit on the mound where her slender legs join together. Blaze runs the fingers of one paw down her naked torso, across the short fur, over those nipples, down to stroke against that slit. The tiger inspects the little girl's vaginal opening, his cock swelling to rock hardness as he further tests her taste with a lick, then another, deeper. Then he turns her over, exposing the youthful speckling of spots across her back, shoulders, and buttocks. Blaze lifts the tufted tail to examine another orifice: the child's anus, tight, puckered, and clean, just as lovely as everything else about her. For a while, he toys with the unconscious fawn, feeling her, groping her, playfully lapping at her face and fur and privates. The anticipation is nearly unbearable; part of him wants to pounce on her and start fucking her right then and there, but, no, patience is a virtue, all good things in time... By now he has made up his mind. Occasionally, Blaze is given to deceiving his juvenile prey for a longer period, grooming them, gradually winning their consent for his sexual attentions. This has its advantages—it's certainly easier to get them to suck him off when they don't know they're being raped, for instance, and there is a certain charm to a willing partner after all. Indeed, sometimes a cub won't even ever know than it is in danger before its neck is snapped, or its brains blown onto the basement floor. In one of his rare fancies, the tiger might even let a drugged victim suffer his attention without ever regaining consciousness. But tonight, with Evelyn, there will be none of that, no more pretenses. She is far too perfect for such kindness. So, Blaze must wait. He lifts the girl again, relocates her, and makes a few more arrangements. Then he disrobes, freeing his powerful body and throbbing cock, sets his clothes aside, and retrieves a packet of powder from one of the cabinets... ----- Evelyn shakes herself awake, groggy at first. How did she fall asleep? It isn't even that late, and she has never been tired at bedtimes, anyway. She yawns again. She doesn't even remember— Shocked surprise wipes away her drowsiness in an instant. What? She can't move her arms—and her clothes, where have her clothes gone? This mattress isn't hers, this place certainly isn't her home... She tries to move, but her wrists catch and hold: craning her neck, she sees that each wrist is individually rope-bound, above and behind her, to a pair of hooks in a headboard. Her legs are free, but all she can manage to do is to sit up slightly... and get her first look at the room around her. When she tries to scream, she realizes her muzzle has been taped shut. No! What is this horrible place? What is happening?! The young fawn has no idea what all of the weird objects, furniture, and equipment scattered throughout the large and windowless room could be, but her instincts know that they are for nothing good. This is a place of evil, clearly, a den of terror and she is tied down, trapped in it, alone— —no, not alone! She sees him, then, sitting across from her, and for a moment, her soul leaps. Max! The kindly toymaker, Bananas' savior—surely he will explain, surely he will free her and take her out of this awful place— And then her hopes and heart crash as she sees the tiger lift a slide to his nose and deeply inhale a sample of colorful powder into his nostrils. Evelyn has seen those powders before—her mother and her stepfather, it makes hem happy and stupid and, when they can't get it, mean and hurtful. Those powders are only for bad people, the child knows all too well. Max—he lied too, he never— He looks up, smiling, and it is no longer a kindly smile. "Evelyn," he purrs. "At last. You're awake." She notices now that he is naked, his tall form with regal orange fur and black stripes now on full display, along with his red-pink—penis? That was the thing boys had. Evelyn had seen them before, but never so large, never swollen the way that this tiger's now appeared to be. Again, Evelyn tries to talk, to yell, to shriek, to cry for help, but only mumbles escape her adhesive gag. Max laughs. "Don't worry, girl. I'll take that off in a moment. I do very much want to hear how you scream." He stands and approaches her, stalking, slowly; Evelyn tries to twist away, but her bound arms prevent her from going too far. He grabs her, pulls her back towards him, and grins a fanged, evil grin, inches from her face. "First, though, I want you to know exactly why you'll be screaming." Evelyn feels her entire insides contort. What is he saying? "I like cute little things like you, Evelyn. I like to play with them. Unfortunately, my type of play won't be much fun for you." His voice drops into a sleek, sinister growl. "I'm going to rape you, little Evelyn. I'm going to fuck you right in your tight little cunt. Do you know what that means? I'm going to shove this—" he indicates his member—"inside you, good and hard, over and over again, for as long as I want to. And it is going to hurt you, hurt you like nothing you have ever felt before. You are going to scream and cry and I am going to thoroughly enjoy it all until I am satisfied. "Then," he adds, "I'm going to fucking kill you." Evelyn once again fails to scream. "I'm going to kill you, and I'm going to eat you," Max snarls. "See these fangs, girl? I will sink them right into that pretty neck of yours, and your hot blood will gush into my mouth while you slowly suffocate to death. Then I'll eat my fill of you, tasty little deer. These jaws will tear your body apart, chew you and swallow you, crush your bones and suck out your sweet marrow—yes, you will be quite a feast. But, first things first." Then, swiftly, before she can react, Max yanks her legs apart—she realizes in an instant just how much stronger than her he truly is—and reaches down underneath them with something. It presses against Evelyn's backside, and then through it, and then the tape is torn off of her mouth as the thick plug excruciatingly shoves into her rear end, and she is screaming freely now. ----- Blaze lets the child's shrieks wash over him, drinking them in, his drug-fueled excitement growing with each tortured wail. In his moments of self-reflection, he has wondered why he is like this—why the agony of cubs, so heart-wrenching to normal folk, brings him instead such pleasure, such sexual thrill. Whatever the reason, he lives for this: alone with an innocent, making her writhe in pain and terror, her helpless little body a prisoner to his darkest, wildest desires. The plug he has jammed under Evelyn's tail and into her incredibly tight asshole is no ordinary toy, certainly not one designed for consensual use. Blaze's own invention, inspired by the medieval pear of anguish, it has thick outward-facing barbs around its base, making it impossible to excrete. It would take a trained surgical team to remove the device, and Blaze very intentionally has no such team on hand. The fawn's backside is plugged for good, save for a trickle of blood running down the inside of her leg. The reasons for the plug are twofold: one, Blaze is amused by the violation for its own sake, and two, he isn't wholly enamored of when his cubs shit themselves, either in fear or in death. After a minute or so, Evelyn exhausts her lungs. The tears are running freely down the small deer's face now, but at last a few words manage to escape between her wracked sobs. "Please," she begs, "please stop—mister, please—it hurts—" Mercilessly, Blaze slashes her hard across the face, his claws raking red lines across her cheek. He grabs her muzzle in one paw and yanks her entire body forward by her face, her arms snapping so tight against her bonds that both her shoulders dislocate, prompting a fresh scream. "It's supposed to hurt, you little bitch," Blaze snaps. "Haven't you heard me? It hurts, and it's going to get worse, and you can't do a damn thing about it." He lowers his head now and bites hard onto her upper right arm, fangs tearing through the fur and skin into muscle and flesh. Evelyn howls. Blood begins to leak from the wound into Blaze's mouth, giving the tiger his first sample of his victim's true flavor. Most cubs tasted good to Blaze, but this one—perhaps because she was a deer, her ancestors the natural prey of his—was especially luscious. The taste of blood on his tongue drives his frenzy to absolute fever pitch. "P-please..." Evelyn moans again. Please, she says. Blaze laughs. She is begging for him—well, he can oblige. The tiger pulls away for a moment, licking the girl's blood from his lips. He reaches for a bottle near the bedside and squirts a jet of lube into one paw, then begins gently coating his cock in it, pleasuring himself while looking over his wounded and whimpering captive. A dry rape would hurt her more, for sure, but it would be less pleasant for Blaze, too; the ultra-tight cunts of girls her age don't self-lubricate well, especially when taken by force. He knows from extensive experience: it's generally better to lube up when fucking small children, regardless of gender. Although her fate has been made quite clear, Evelyn seems to still not fully understand it. She stares at Blaze's erection through wide, tear-blurred eyes with the incomprehension of youth. She has no concept of sex, let alone rape, this innocent eight-year-old; even with her rear end already plugged tight, even with all Blaze has said and done so far, she is still wonderfully confused, her reactions to each fresh torture filled with genuine surprise along with the pain. And she is injured, bleeding from several places, but somehow even more lovely for it—a tiny speckled fawn-girl, so terrified and so very helpless— The tiger can restrain himself no longer. Wiping his paw clean, he reaches out and grabs the fawn's ankles, jerking them towards him to pull her flat and recumbent against the mattress. She fights him, but only weakly. He has decided to bind only her arms, not her legs; her struggle will be more animated that way—all the better for him—and it is hardly any difficulty for him to overpower her. Stalking over her, his thighs press her skinny legs apart, easily overpowering her feeble resistance, his cock rubbing against her stomach, and he lowers his face close to hers, grinning. "I'm going to have my way with you now, Evelyn," he purrs. "It'll all be over... eventually. Until then, you just keep screaming, crying, begging—beg me all you want—" "P-please—please, I'll do anything—" Her tears flow freely; she whimpers in terror. "Anything you w-want—please don't hurt me—hurt me any more—" Blaze grabs her slender waist with both paws and impales her in one deliberate thrust, her immature flesh giving way to his lube-slick cock as it forces its way inside her. His is a brutal ingress; her body is not yet developed to handle such girth, but he cares not, shoving himself against the girl with enough force to press into her prepubescent vagina, warm and wonderfully tight against him. Evelyn yelps at the unfamiliar sensation, then shrieks as her hymen tears, more blood mixing with the lubricant on Blaze's shaft. He presses deeper now, forcing his full length into her, reveling in how his prey squirms in pain beneath him as he stretches her snug insides. The tiger grips her thighs—his massive paws nearly wrap around each little limb, claws covetously digging into her skin—and pulls her groin fully against his, sheathing himself to the hilt in her, alongside his cruel rectal torture device. Already he can just barely squeeze in, and the doubled penetration makes him a tighter fit still; his rape will surely do irreparable harm to this little girl. The thought pleases him greatly. "Fuck, yeah," he snarls in Evelyn's face, licking her quivering muzzle with his bloodstained tongue.. "Come on, bitch, let me hear you cry..." As he speaks, he begins to pump, back and forth, like a pneumatic cylinder, pummeling the fawn in a powerful and rhythmic sexual barrage. He yanks her legs forward again and again; his fierce, textured cock slides through her body like a sword assaulting its scabbard. Evelyn wails at the pressure and the pain; he is ripping her insides apart with each thrust, mercilessly pleasuring himself at her expense, fucking the small deer bloody, over and over. It is an unparalleled joy that the tiger takes in this sin, this enormity of enormities, for his ecstasy to impart such suffering upon a blameless cub. She squirms beneath him in a feeble struggle; her glistening eyes tell only terror and agony; her involuntary squeals as he plunders her are deliciously pathetic. "Stop—" she gasps, and "no—" and "help—" The trauma, physical and emotional, will surely scar her for life. How fortunate that Blaze intends that the rest of her life be quite short. He raises his paws to her chest now, pressing against her undeveloped breasts, his weight forcing her hard against the bed, claws drawing more blood. With his erection buried deep inside her, he raises his head back to her bleeding, bound arm and sinks his jaws into it again, tearing off a strip of tender red meat. The fawn screams louder than ever as Blaze chews, swallows, then bites again, raping even while he feeds, eating the little eight-year-old girl alive as he fucks her. "How does it feel, Evelyn?" he taunts between mouthfuls, spraying giblets of gore onto his sobbing victim's face. "Oh, you are delicious, kid—mmm, one of the best I've ever tasted—" Her savory flesh fills his mouth; her warmth envelops his cock; he is triumphant and victorious. He is the conquering killer, the fierce hunter of the forests, the apex predator that takes what it desires and cares naught for the pain of its prey. He is a wild beast, inheritor of his ancestors' hunger for blood, murderous fury and rapacious lust personified and channeled into his unchained frenzy— ----- The agony is like nothing Evelyn has ever known, her physical torment swirling with the horrid and unfamiliar sense of abject violation. Pain blinds her mind; her feeble flailing and bleating are only reflex reactions now. She is coming to understand, at last, that there will be no rescue, no miracle—she is to die here as food for this monster—and now, as his fangs tear her arm, his maleness ravages her innards, his claws tear at her torso, she can only pray that the end will come soon— But not yet. Max is still talking to her, mocking her between bites and thrusts; through her tears, she sees the smirk of his blood-spattered maw, the teeth that soon will clamp down on her and choke out her life, the throat down which her body will disappear piece by piece. Even now, even as her pain-riddled body begs for death, her fear and revulsion break through—why, she wonders. Why? Why is this happening to me? She had a life, a childhood. It wasn't a great one, but it had its joys—running free with her friends through the streets, stealing delicious morsels from the outdoor markets, the warmth of her mother's hugs when she was sober and nice. She had plans: she was going to grow up, leave the city someday, learn a trade, make something of herself, meet her prince. All of that ended today; lost, all cut short. Why? It wasn't fair... Max slaps her once again, hard, cutting short her self-pity, bringing the present back into focus with all its horror. He is panting in her face now; she can smell her own blood on his breath, staring into the red-stained jaws that will now claim her life, as they have surely claimed other kids before her. He licks her face slowly, greedily, smearing traces of that blood across it. "I'm close, girl," he snarls. "I'm close, and when I arrive, you die. Are you ready to die?" No, no, she isn't, she doesn't want to die, but the pain, the pain, it has to stop— "Are you afraid?" Max continues. He clearly enjoys it. "Yes, oh yes, you are. The next bite kills you, Evelyn—prepare yourself—" Harder now he grips her; faster he pumps, her body further breaking under the force. Her pelvis cracks now, twice; something deep within her stomach rips apart. His manhood feels like a knife stabbing her over and over again, so deep inside her, gliding through her flesh. For the first time, Evelyn now truly understands what it means to be prey, to be meat, to be nothing more than an object, used however its conqueror desires... She closes her eyes. Somehow, she knows: it is about to happen, and she doesn't want to see. She tries to think of home... The first thing Evelyn feels is Max go rigid, his grip suddenly clamped upon her more firmly than ever, and his snarl rising into a primal roar. The second is a jet of hot, viscous fluid shooting into her guts, spraying everywhere, filling her, some of it leaking out of her onto the mattress. Then, the third, at last: the fangs at her throat. They bite deep. The knowledge that it would come doesn't make it any less agonizingly horrible. The tiger's maw easily closes around her small neck with crushing force, crumpling her windpipe, piercing her arteries. Bubbling blood fills her breath when she instinctively tries to scream; nothing comes out. Her eyes see red—then fade to blackness. Her last thought is, maybe I'll see Daddy again— ----- Intense bliss courses through Blaze's every vein as he clutches the eight-year-old fawn and sprays his seed deep into her. His fur seems to stand on end; his mind lost in a blur of color. His roar is the roar of triumph and of pleasure—and also of sudden, violent rage and hunger. The cry ends when he buries his fangs in the child's neck, orgasm still raging as his knife-like canines rip through fur into soft skin. Fresh gore sprays onto his tongue. The delicate structures of Evelyn's throat cave beneath his powerful jaws, his eye-teeth crushing her blood vessels and cutting off all oxygen. She gurgles helplessly. Blaze clamps down hard, holding her throat in his maw, suffocating her, violating her body with both his fangs and his cock, fucking her and devouring her, his lust for young flesh satisfied in every way. He can feel Evelyn's dying spasms now, adding one final jolt of pleasure to his rape, one last jet of come that he spurts into her ravaged cunt— Then, with a quick jerk of his head, he tears out her throat, the sudden force snapping her spinal cord, instantly killing the little girl. She goes slack in his grasp, her ordeal finally over forever. For a few moments longer, Blaze stays buried inside her limp form, savoring the last sensations of his ebbing orgasm, chewing and swallowing the red life he has ripped from Evelyn's neck. Then, at last, he dismounts the small, still corpse, laughing softly to himself. From her slit, another dollop of his ejaculate, mixed with her blood, oozes onto the sheets. Her lifeless, violated body lies sprawled and broken before him, a child now reduced to her most basic essence: meat. The entertainment is finished. Now for his dinner. Blaze wastes no time: the fresher the kill, the tastier. He sets upon the dead fawn immediately, ripping open her stomach and chest cavity with his bare paws to reveal the buffet within. He eats her heart in two gluttonous bites, masticating the firm muscle, sanguine fluid dripping down his chin. Next comes the soft and chewy liver; then kidneys, pancreas, gallbladder, and meaty intestines, each offering a distinctly piquant zest before it vanishes down the tiger's gullet, all the sweeter when enjoyed alongside his sexual afterglow. Upon reaching her stomach, he is amused to notice a hint of chocolate nut flavor—is it really only a few hours ago since he offered Evelyn the drugged candy? He is already nostalgic as he feasts upon the body of that free-spirited little street girl he met just those few hours ago. Even at first sight, he had known that he wanted to rape her, kill her, eat her. He can still picture her shy beauty... beauty that he has now crushed, reduced into this red, gory meal, for the sake of his pleasure and appetite. Soon he moves on to her flanks, gnawing off tufts of spotted fur to get at the rich, hot victuals underneath. His fangs rip strips of her muscle into hearty, rich mouthfuls; again and again he bites, tears, chews, swallows. As pledged, he cracks open the marrow-rich leg bones to get at the sweetness within. Chunks of fawn slide down his throat and into his awaiting stomach, her life force to be absorbed into his own. On and on he goes, gorging himself on the young flesh, until he at last can feed no longer. Beneath his muscled abdomen, his belly bulges with satiety. What remains of the tiny, desecrated, hollow carcass bears no resemblance to the eight-year-old child it so recently was. Blaze sits back now, surveys the scene. He licks his lips, pats his belly, sighs contentedly. A good evening, all in all, he thinks. Sure, the blood-soaked mattress will probably have to go, but he can easily afford another... and it was certainly worth the sacrifice. He is full, his libido spent—for now, anyway. Before leaving his basement, he gathers what remains of Evelyn into a biodegradable sack. Tomorrow morning he will take it about a mile deep into the woods, to a bog particularly well suited for the purpose. There, he will forever consign her the same swampy, anonymous grave that is also the final resting place of so many of her peers. No one will ever find her, not for centuries, anyway. In a few weeks, even Blaze might forget she ever existed. Nobody remembers every meal, every passing fancy, after all. Or perhaps not, the tiger thinks a little while later, as he pours stove-heated water and shampoo over himself in his improvised rustic shower, washing cervine blood from his fur. Perhaps he will indeed remember little Evelyn. She was certainly among his more entertaining victims. Sure, he has had even better sex, like the adorable retriever puppy he once sodomized while drowning him in a cistern. And he has had superior meals—the girl-calf he roasted alive and screaming on a spit last year comes to mind. But on the whole, the ecstasy and the venison combined... no, he can hardly remember so pleasurable a visit. Then again, who knows what tomorrow might bring? After all, the beast's hunger and desire will only be sated for so long... and there are so many young ones left out there who might become his next prey... -----