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Furry: Ryon
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Now, this one is truely wierd...
Ryon, part 1 (male/furry/giants/violent)
orginal poster: [email protected]
This is part 1 of a story involving a young male character on the brink
of sexual discovery. This character is a giant, and there is a lot of
blood and gore and carnage and other good stuff like that, along with
some equally graphic sexual situations. The character, too, is of a
"Furry" nature, by which we mean it is an anthropomorphized (human-like)
animal.
If any or all of these things are going to offend the reader's sensibilities,
the reader is invited to stop reading now. The author refuses to listen to
any whining about the subject matter.
In other words, if you don't like what you read, don't read it.
RYON
(c 1993 the guy who writes these things)
(character c 1993 the guy who thinks these characters up)
Ryon pushed aside the low-hanging branches and raced through the jungle
as fast as his legs could carry him. Even though his body teetered on
the brink of adulthood, he was still very much a kitten at heart, and he
was overflowing with energy on this, the first really warm morning of
springtime. The wind whipped through his mane, which had filled out a
great deal from the scruffy fuzz he'd had all through the last summer.
He came to the little sandy beach at the bend in the river which was his
favorite place to play. There he stood on a big rock and looked down
at his reflection in the calm water. He could hardly believe how much he
had changed in just one winter! His body had been bony and scrawny for
so long; now it was hard and strong, the muscles proudly defined under-
neath his coat of tawny fur. His sheath, too, had grown thick and full,
and looked now much like his father's did. In fact, all over he was looking
more and more like the proud lion who had sired him -- but inside he was
still Ryon, the mischievous kitten. With a laugh he knelt and batted at
the reflection with his hand, watching as it dissolved in swirls and eddies
and then slowly reformed. Then he stood and stretched, raising his arms
up over his head and rising to his toes, tensing all of his strong muscles
grandly.
A sound! Ryon froze in mid-stretch, only his ears swivelling, homing in on
the change in the water's splashings that he'd heard. There, through the
trees, where the river doubled back on itself, he saw one of the little forest
creatures that were his prey. It had come to drink. Its back was to him, and
he was downwind -- perfect! He had not thought much about eating, but the
appearance of his prey reminded him of his hunger. And now the wind brought
the scent, and his stomach rumbled.
Ryon crouched silently and slithered off the rock, his paws making almost no
sound. Silently he stole into the trees, moving like a ghost, creeping ever
closer. At the last minute the little four-legger lifted its head and turned,
then bolted, its feet kicking up a spray of sand from the riverbank. By then,
though, it was far too late; Ryon was already upon it. With a roar he pounced,
his body arching through the air, hands outstretched. Both hands came down
atop the squealing prey, pressing it down into the sand and trapping it.
Ryon's feet skidded forward a little as they landed, but he did not lose his
balance. Smiling, he stood and lifted the wriggling little animal into the
air, holding it tightly by one foreleg. It's cries aroused his hunger
further . . . and, he found, not just his hunger.
It had only been a day since the young lion had discovered a surprising
new feature of his growing body. While resting under a tree he had idly
taken to rubbing his fingers along his sheath, and had been startled to
find his penis growing big and hard in response, like it often was when
he woke up. The brush of his leathery fingerpads across its warm, smooth
surface had filled him with such overpowering sensations that he had never
felt before, that he had never DREAMED of, and it only took a little more
experimentation before his fist had closed firmly around it and started to
stroke it zealously. He had been lost in the dreamlike pleasure it gave
to him, and oh, how he had nearly jumped out of his skin when his entire
body seemed to glow and tingle and his seed had burst forth. Of course,
he did not know what it was -- he was terrified that he'd damaged himself
somehow, and had lain very still while the sticky fluid quivered in pools
on his belly. But after a little while, his curiosity outweighed his
worry. There was no pain, no blood; he poked at the stuff, sniffed it,
tasted it...it seemed harmless enough. The experience had left him
winded, but he was a strong youngster, and recovered quickly. He had
tried it again and again that afternoon, finding that each time was just
as intense as the last, until even the stamina of his leonine kin was not
enough to sustain him, and he decided it was time to quit for a while.
Now, though, he felt a stirring in his loins, a restlessness. He stared
thoughtfully at his kicking prize, its terrified squealing resounding in
his ears, and felt his penis starting to peek curiously from its sheath.
The animal's fur was so soft in his hands, much softer than his own palm-
pads, he thought. And an idea came to him, and he smiled broadly.
Ryon held the little animal in both hands so that it would not get away,
and carried it back to his favorite spot. The creature had stopped its
struggling, resigned, its four legs dangling limply, its eyes wide and
staring. Ryon sat down on the sand with his legs spread apart, and
lowering his little captive to his groin, pressed it experimentally
to his growing member.
Whoa! He hadn't been prepared for the little animal to come to life so
suddenly. It gave an abrupt kick, nearly breaking from his grasp, but
Ryon was quick and caught it again. The sudden burst of vitality from his
prey excited him further, and he pressed its belly to his erection and
squeezed it there tightly with his fist. The animal's eyes bulged and
it began to wriggle, shrieking, twisting its body. Ryon squeezed it tighter,
moaning, and began to drag it slowly up and down the length of his cock.
The feeling was indescribable! Soft, soft fur pressing and massaging at
his length, the little legs surrounding his shaft as he tightened his grip
further still, the feel of its thrashing head striking at the tender tip
of his glans. Ryon purred loudly, his purr rising to a moan as he stroked
the little creature faster and harder. He fidgeted, twitched his hips.
His toes curled and uncurled, and the blood roared in his ears. He half-
felt a crunch as his hand clenched, but continued stroking, grinding his
little catch harder and harder and harder until . . . it felt like an
explosion inside of him, his whole body going rigid all at once, muscles
pulsing deep down inside of him. It was dizzying, intoxicating, and then
his pent-up breath burst from his lungs and he slumped, gasping.
His little plaything had not weathered the ordeal well. A big glob of his
semen coated its face and was mixed with redness around its mouth. It was
still breathing, but when he lifted it from his lap he felt broken bones
moving around inside of it, and its whole body felt soft. Well, no matter.
He'd had his fun, and WHAT fun! He knew that he'd have to try this again
the next time he caught something. Pushing the little animal's broken
body into his mouth he bit down, and his purr returned as he tasted its hot
blood gush into his mouth and trickle in a little river down his chin.
He chewed slowly, reflecting on what he had just experienced as he wiped
the red-swirled semen from his belly, and then licked his fingers clean after
he had swallowed the last of his meal. Yes, he would DEFINITELY have to
try that again, as soon as...
Movement caught his sharp eye.
Through a gap in the trees he saw them as they made their way over the rocky
ridge that surrounded his valley, and started down for the treeline. But
what WERE they? They walked on two legs, like he did, but they certainly
weren't lions.
Ryon dropped to a crouch behind a big tree and peeked around its trunk. He
did not know if their eyesight was as good as his, but there was no sense in
taking chances. He stared at them, utterly fascinated, until they reached
the treeline and disappeared, one by one. In all his life, he'd never seen
anything like this! Even from this distance he could see that they had
weird, flat faces, and their skin was all baggy and dazzlingly colored.
Maybe that means they're poisonous, he thought. Curiosity burned within him,
and when he saw them again, much closer now, he knew that he just had to
catch them and find out what they were. He rose up onto his toes, muscles
taut, and began to slink through the trees, circling softly to place them
upwind. Weaving through the trees on silent feet, he stalked them, never
letting them out of his sight. Closer and closer he crept, and then suddenly
they turned in his direction.
Quickly Ryon stood up and pressed himself behind a tree. Holding his breath,
he peeked around. No, they had not seen him after all; in fact, they were
fighting their way through the tangled underbrush toward him. They were
amazing, these baggy animals! Crashing clumsily through the vines, their
loose, multicolored skins flapping and catching on things -- how did they
EVER expect to survive? They certainly weren't hunters, that's for sure,
and that was confirmed when one of them stopped to eat some berries. So
they were prey-animals after all, then. But what kind of prey goes to so
much trouble to draw attention to itself?
His fascination grew as they came closer and closer, until they were
practically on top of him. Didn't they see him? Didn't they smell him??
How could this BE?" It was almost as though they wanted to be caught. To
Ryon's delight, one of them actually broke away from the others and walked
straight toward him, completely oblivious. It was perfect, and he reached
out....
"Will you quit your whining?!" Alan snapped. He'd finally had it up to
here with the skinny nerd's voice.
"Well, sor-ry!" Gregory said peevishly. "I just don't understand why we
couldn't have driven the land-rover up to the top. We paid for 4-wheel
drive, didn't we? So why'd we have to hike all the way up the mountain?"
"Because it was there."
"Oh, thanks. You're funny, Alan."
Gary, at the head of the group, sighed and halted. He hated having to be
the peacemaker all the time. "Look guys, if you'd do less talking, you
wouldn't be so tired. We can stop and break for lunch now if you want to."
Gregory muttered, "I might as well just turn around and go back to camp. I'm
just slowing you guys down anyway."
Gary made calming gestures at the seething Alan and sent him ahead, then
waited for Gregory to catch up. "Come on! You're a part of a historical
expedition, remember?" he said cheerily. "You heard what the old guy said.
We're probably the first Westerners to ever cross those mountains -- blazing
a trail into unexplored territory! We might make an amazing discovery here
and be famous."
"What, discover the world's biggest mosquito?"
Gary sighed. "OK. We'll head back a bit earlier so you can catch up on your
rest. It's only a quick sweep through anyway, just to get the lay of the
land. Tomorrow we'll stick close to camp. You can help me gather some foliage
samples, and if I discover anything astronomical, I'll name it after you."
He gave Gregory an encouraging clap on the shoulder and hurried ahead to join
Alan, who was still grumbling.
"Why DID we have to bring him, anyway?"
"Because," Gary whispered in a tone of forced patience, "he's the only one who
speaks the language. AND the land-rover's on his credit card."
Alan snorted. "If your advisor doesn't hand you your degree on a silver
platter after this, I swear I'll sue you."
Behind them, Gregory paused to wipe his face on his flowered Hawaiian shirt.
He'd heard what Alan had said, and it hurt his feelings. Why HAD he come? He
should have said no the moment Gary told him that Alan was coming along. And
he should never have volunteered to drive the land-rover. From the city, the
mountains had looked to be a few miles off, maybe four or five, but it had been
more than two hours of bouncing over coarse savannah before they reached the
foothills. And they sure as hell could have driven further up the ridge, if
only Alan had let them. Maybe then he wouldnt' have had to pitch his tent
in the dark. Now his whole body ached and his feet had blisters, and he was
seriously thinknig of just turning around and heading back on his own.
Then something caught his eye. For a moment, just a brief flash, it was as
though a part of the jungle had moved. He squinted, peering at that spot,
but there was nothing. Nothing he could see now, at least. A shiver shot
through him, and he forgot any notions of going back alone. "Hey..." he
called. "Wait up!"
His companions had stopped to examine one of the towering trees. "Fucking
huge, man," Alan said with a whistle. "They keep getting bigger the further we
go."
"Yes. Old growth. Nobody's ever cut them down." Gary seemed almost in a
trance, plunged into a budding botanist's dreamworld. "They're probably
centuries old. God, I can't wait to start taking samples tomorrow." He
straightened up as Gregory joined them. "It looks like easier going in
that direction." He started off, leading his companions through the twisted
undergrowth and into a small natural clearing. Behind him, Alan shrugged
off his backpack.
"Lunchtime. This is as good a spot as any." He zipped open the pack and
dumped the contents onto a rocky outcropping. "The pops might still be
cold, but I make no guarantees." He looked around, realizing that Gregory
was here but Gary wasn't. He turned of his shoulder. "Hey, Einstein, are
you going to eat or not?"
Gary didn't seem interested in lunch. He strode purposefully toward the
edge of the clearing. "Look at that!" he said excitedly. "I've never seen
a tree like that before! Look at the bark."
Alan laughed. "Science-types," he sneered, and turned back to his meal. As
he did, he saw a looming shadow from the corner of his eye, and when he spun
around, he saw Gary's flailing body rising up, up, high into the air.
Gregory followed Alan's gaze, looked up as well, and screamed.
Something emerged from the shade of the trees, its vast bulk dwarfing the
terrified little man that it held in its grip. Gregory's scream trailed
off, leaving him dumbstruck as he stared at the towering figure. It was
something from a nightmare: a lion's head, a man's body, covered with fur;
its size was staggering! A lone conifer, which must have stood a hundred
feet tall or more, was near the edge of the clearing, and this Thing was
looking over the top of it....at him! And in its hand was Gary, whose high,
thin shrieks now reached Gregory's ears. He felt warmth trickling down his
leg.
Alan suddenly appeared beside him. "Gary? GARY! Oh, shit! Run, you stupid
asshole, run!"
Quivering, Gregory turned slowly to watch Alan disappear into the woods.
He could not make himself turn back around to look at the giant. It seemed
an eternity before he was able to make his own legs work, and slowly at
first, then with gathering speed, he lurched into the trees.
Ryon smiled to himself as he stood up again, lifting the wiggly little animal
close to his face and sniffing at it. He stepped forward into the sunlight,
and the other two members of the pack darted off into the underbrush. Well,
at least they weren't totally stupid! He would hunt them down later; for now,
he was too eager to examine the one that he had.
He sat down and folded his legs comfortably, and peered down at his catch. It
seemed he was holding it a little too tightly, so he dropped it into the palm
of his hand, but kept careful watch in case it tried to scramble over the
edge. Right now it wasn't doing much of anything. That disappointed him.
He liked his prey to put up at least a little bit of a fight. With a curious
finger he started to explore the tiny body. He picked at its baggy skin, and
mewed in surprised when it tore easily. But, it was not skin after all, was
it? Intrigued, he hooked his claw into it in another place and began to shred
it from the little animal's body. Definitly not skin, though he hadn't the
slightest idea just what it was. Maybe it was a coccoon? It was springtime,
after all. And this here -- mew! Blood! OK, THAT'S its skin. Carefully
he pulled the rest of the coccoon away and discarded it, then he eyed the
creature closely. Where was its fur? No wonder it kept its coccoon around
it.
It began to yap at him, its little squeaky cries amusing him. So in that
sense, at least, it was no different from the other little animals around
here. Smelled the same, felt the same.
No. It did not feel the same. It's smooth skin was different, a very
different feeling.
He smiled, beginning to purr.
The little animal squealed as Ryon lowered it down and pressed it up
into his scrotum; it came alive again and started to kick and thrash as
the soft folds enshrouded it. That was good! Nice and squirmy. Ryon's
purr grew louder, and he leaned back. Slowly he began to move the little
one across the tingling surface of his ballsac, its struggles thrilling him,
and then he pushed it up between the two hanging globes and squeezed them
around its body with his fingers. The sheer bliss of feeling its little arms
thumping and petting his testicles made him start to pant, and his penis
leaped from his sheath quicker than it ever had before.
Tail lashing excitedly, he settled down onto his back and dragged his captive
up along his sheath and onto the bare flesh of his cock. He was eager to
find out if this animal's skin felt as good against him as the furry one's
had, but he was disappointed to discover that it did not slide very easily
at all. He mewled and lifted the creature from his crotch, closed his fist
around it so that it wouldn't get away, and thought. It needs to be more
slippery, he said to himself, if I'm going to get any fun out of it. Maybe
I could cover it with some mud from the swamp. That's slippery. But, then
I couldn't eat it. Who wants to eat swamp-mud? Yuck! Hmmm. Maybe if
it was wet...
That sounded like it would work, so he lifted his hand to his face and,
keeping his fingers curled, he slipped his tongue into his fist and licked
the little one into his mouth. The feel of its smooth skin against his
tongue was oddly pleasant, so he spent some extra time just sucking on his
captive and feeling the unique texture of its wiggly body. Then, when he'd
built up lots of saliva in his mouth, he brought his hand up again and spat
the creature into his palm. It landed and squeaked comically, writhing in
the puddle of bubbly liquid. Now to give it another try.
Oh, yes! This was more like it! The little animal slid crazily between
his penis and palm as he began to stroke himself; its body, just by its
very shape, tended to line itself up along his member, and its wild
gyrations against his cock were like nothing he'd ever felt before, ever!
It was so much more intense a feeling than rubbing with just his plain old
hand. He wondered how he could ever be satisfied with just that, now that
he'd found these remarkable little creatures. He sure hoped that he would
be able to find more, after he was finished with this one. No worry there,
though. He'd seen how shockingly inept they were at avoiding detection, and
besides, he was a good hunter.
His spit had started to dry out and the little one was beginning to drag
uncomfortably against his flesh again. He didn't like the idea of having
to stop to rewet it every -- oh, but what's this? He paused in his stroking,
surprised to see thin liquid dripping from the tip of his penis onto his
thumb. Surely he couldn't be finished already! He hadn't felt any of the
joyful spasms that he'd felt when the white stuff came out before. Rubbing
at the liquid, though, he soon realized that it wasn't the same as the white
stuff. This was much thinner, more like tree sap, and . . . slippery.
Slippery!! Oh, mew! This was perfect! Excitedly he gripped his little
prey-toy and mushed its body roughly against his oozing cockslit, and gasped
at the sudden wave of pleasure that rocketed through his loins from it. The
little ones was almost instantly soaked in his slickness, and maybe not
surprisingly, it suddenly slipped from his fingers and squirmed down between
his legs. With an angry growl he snatched it up again, using his claws to
help hold onto it this time, and squeezed its belly against the bottom of
his cock, right at the spot where the head flared. His fist closed tightly
around it and he began pumping. He almost couldn't believe it! The strug-
gling little body felt even better against him now than it had just a few
seconds before! What a marvelous thing, that his body knew just exactly
what he needed! All these discoveries in the course of just one day were
enough to make his head swim; but, like his belly, a kitten's curiosity is
insatiable, and he was determined to see just how much fun he could have
before this lovely spring day was through.
He felt his heart beating faster, and knew that the wonderful white cream
would come out of him soon. The little animal had stopped its bleating, but
it still struggled deliciously, its tiny hands sliding all over the big head
of his penis, driving Ryon almost into a pleasured frenzy. He tried so hard
not to squeeze, but it was impossible. Nothing seemed to matter, as he felt
his whole body tighten up. The world started spinning; he hardly heard his
own echoing roar as the white stuff exploded out of his penis, flying up and
landing in his chestfur and sticking there. Then he couldn't move at all --
couldn't even breathe -- could only sit helplessly as his loins pulsed and
pulsed. The thick cream shot out again and again and again, and he could
almost hear the spasming of the muscles deep in his belly. At last the storm
subsided, and he swayed dizzily, reaching out a hand to clutch at a treetrunk
for support. It took a moment or two for him to catch his breath.
Ryon suddenly remembered his little plaything and looked down. It was still
clasped to his cock, its upper body slumped, twitching over his glans.
Carefully he peeled it off with two fingers and sniffed at it. Awww, it was
broken! Though it was still breathing and feebly moving its arms, on both of
its legs the bones were sticking out through the skin. Obviously, he wouldn't
be having much more fun with this one. No matter! There were two more, and
maybe he could find even more than that if he looked hard enough. So, standing
up, he slipped the little animal into his mouth and swallowed it whole, and
then started off to hunt for the others.
Dropping to all fours, he lowered his head and sniffed at the ground. Such a
unique scent wasn't hard to find at all. They had gone in two different
directions, the one with the drab coccoon off to the left, the prettier one
to the right. Well, at least they had some survival sense, he thought. He
decided to go after the less colorful one, since it seemed meatier and would
probably be more fun to catch.
The hunt did not last long. Ryon padded slowly through the woods, his eyes
following the trail of broken creepers and bruised vines that his quarry had
left behind, his nostrils flared to catch in the smallest trace of scent.
The trail came to an abrupt end at the bottom of a big tree, where it ran
right up to a hole in the bark. He'd found its nest! Quickly he circled
the area, searching through the tangled undergrowth for any back entrances to
the burrow that he could plug, but he couldn't find any, so he returned to
the main entrance. He leaned down and sniffed -- the little creature was
definitely in there. The smell of its fear was potent. He poked a finger
curiously into the opening, and heard his prey scrabbling deeper in.
Now he was in a quandry. He tried to flush the little animal out with his
tail by thrusting it down into the hole; but even though he could feel the
little one brushing against the tuft at the tip, it did not try to make a
break for freedom. He considered urinating into the burrow and flooding it
out, but he didn't feel like having to walk all the way back to the river to
wash it off. The tree was too big to push over, and he hated digging, because
the dirt got up into his claw-sheaths and felt funny.
Ryon squatted down to ponder this some more, and as he did, he saw something
dart between his feet from the burrow. He hissed in surprise, off-balance, and
fell back hard onto his rump. That's when he felt the frantic wriggling be-
neath him, and started to laugh. He'd caught it, all by accident! He looked
down and saw tiny legs kicking from beneath his scrotum. The little creature
had tried to flee between his feet, and he had sat on it. What luck, he
thought, that it fell between them -- just a little to the left or the right,
and I would have squashed it under my butt.
He started to reach down to pull it out from under him, but then he changed
his mind. He sort of liked the feeling of it struggling against his anus;
it was a totally new sensation, and sent shivers up his spine. Yet another
use for the little ones! Purring, he settled down heavier upon it, feeling
its struggles intensify against the smooth flesh under his tail, and marvelled
at his incredible fortune to have discovered these creatures. So easy to
catch, so MUCH fun, and they didn't even bite.
The little prey-toy's squirming grew more feeble, and he realized that he
was probably smothering it. Still, he was reluctant to give up this new
game, so delicious was the sensation, so he sat on it for a few moments
longer until it almost stopped moving completely. Then he leaned to the side,
lifting himself off of it, and reached down to pick it up by the legs. It
gasped, twitched a few times, and then started to flail once again. He
smiled, pleased that it still had some fight in it.
Ryon lay down on his back and lifted his feet up, resting them on the trunk
of the tree a little ways up. He dabbed his little plaything against the
tip of his cock, wetting it with the nice slick fluid, and then brought it
around his leg and pressed it up under his tail with two fingers. It
immediately began to wriggle and make little barking noises, which rose to
a frantic jabbering as he started to rub it briskly against the flesh of his
opening. He closed his eyes, purring, lost in the stimulation. He let out
a small mew when he felt one of his flailing toy's limbs push down inside
the puckered hole and start to twitch, trapped. It gave him an idea. Pulling
the little one away for a second, he ran a finger down the backs of its
legs and pushed them firmly upward, shuddering as he felt them slide inside
of him. They kicked wildly, pleasantly, and he slowly started to feed the
rest of the little body into the opening. He felt his anus squeezing around
it a few times, but that only made it fight even harder when he let up the
pressure. He pushed it further and further, until it was almost completely
inside -- he didn't want it to go all the way in, or it would just suffocate
and die, and then it wouldn't be any fun at all. So he kept its head free,
and kept a finger atop it so that it would not slip out again. His other hand
closed around his cock, and he started to stroke at it, purring brokenly as
the little one fought and writhed inside of him, massaging him in ways he'd
never dreamed could feel so good. His hand stroked faster -- oh, to have the
last one here now, to squirm against his cock while its companion thrashed in
his ass. He should have caught them both, but since he was not about to
stop now and go looking for the other one, this would have to do. And oooh,
it was just fine as it was! The tiny gyrations inside his rectum were
almost unbearably pleasing. His toes curled, gouging big furrows in the tree
bark with their claws. He stroked with gleeful abandon, growling as he felt
the heat welling up behind his face. No longer concerned with his prey's
safety, and just wanting to feel its flailings deeper, he pushed up with his
finger and stuffed the little one completely inside of his anus. Its
struggles doubled in intensity, and Ryon gasped, his entire body trembling.
Vaguely he felt something crunch wetly deep inside as his loins pulsed, the
muscles bearing down and shooting his white cream powerfully onto his chest.
Some of it even flew far enough to splash against his muzzle.
This time it seemed to be forever before his body loosened up again and the
bursts of white stuff slowed to a trickle. He licked away the cream that
had landed on his muzzle. Then, not wasting a second, he rolled to his side
and slipped a finger shiveringly into his rear, feeling for the little one.
It wasn't moving, and he was worried that it had suffocated. He tried to
catch it but only succeeded in pushing it deeper, so he unsheathed a claw and
hooked it into the animal's coccoon, using that to drag it out. He was
startled at its condition. Every bone in its body must have been broken; it
was little more than a sack of flesh, with blood oozing from every orifice.
Pity.
Ryon really didn't want to eat this one, so he tossed its body aside. He had
not realized just how tightly his muscles clenched when the white stuff shot
out, but considering how far it had flown this time, maybe it wasn't surprising
that his little plaything had been so badly crushed. Definitely, this was not
a game to play when he didn't have others lined up, or when he wanted to eat
afterward. With a yawn he curled up on the jungle floor. The prettier one's
trail would have grown colder by now and would be harder to follow, and
besides, this last one had worn him up. He needed a nap. Just a short one,
he thought, and when I'm rested, I'll go up over the hill where I first saw
them and see if I can find some more.
Gregory staggered through the tangled undergrowth, driven by fear and haunted
by what he had seen. It wasn't possible -- it COULDN'T be possible. Nothing
that big could possibly live. But he had seen it with his own eyes, had seen
it pluck Gary from the ground like a mouse. And from the screams he had heard
behind him as he fled, Gary had been eaten like a mouse, too. The thought made
his stomach churn, and for the hundredth time he gagged, stumbling. His
Hawaiian shirt was stained with sweat and torn from the innumerable times he
had fallen on roots that had reached up to trip him.
He had to get back to the land-rover. It was his only hope. The thing did
not seem to be following him -- he would hear it coming, wouldn't he? -- but
still, he just wanted to get away. He would go to the authorities in the
city, and tell them what had happened. No, he couldn't. They would never
believe him. They'd lock him away. No, he would tell them that his friend
had been attacked by a wild animal. Maybe they could send a search party back
for Alan, assuming he hadn't already been caught by the monster.
The trees thinned out and then gave way to scrubby bushes as he neared the
peak of the mountain. Not until he neared the very top did he dare to stop and
catch his breath. How long had he been running? Half an hour? An hour?
Mere minutes? No way to tell. It didn't matter, though. He'd left the
horrible beast far behind him.
And his friends.
The thought stabbed at him. No, Alan was not his friend. Why couldn't it have
been Alan instead of Gary? A sob broke from his throat, and he slumped against
a tree. Gary was dead, he was sure of it. Alan might have gotten away. And
if he did, he would probably head for . . .
The land-rover! If Alan had managed to elude the thing as well, he would head
there as well, and it would be just like him to drive off and leave Gregory
stranded. The idea half-paralyzed him, to be stuck here with that thing
with no way to get away. He had to get there first. If he wound up driving
off without Alan, so be it. The bastard deserved what he got, and he was not
about to place his own life in jeopardy to wait for him. He would tell the
authorities that both of them had been eaten, and then he'd get his ass out of
this miserable country and go back home, and try to forget what he had seen.
Elation brought tears to his eyes as he descended the slope on the far side
of the mountain and saw the glint of the sun off the land-rover's windshield.
He slowed his pace to a trot as he made his way down to where the trees grew
up again. No need to hurry. He was safe, now. The thing had apparently been
content with his two comrades. Maybe it thought he was too skinny and hadn't
thought it worthwhile to chase him. The thought made him laugh. It was a
loud, barking laugh, giving voice to his relief. He had made it! It made
him giddy, even moreso as he reached the top of the rocky slide they'd first
scaled and saw the land-rover sitting invitingly at the bottom. He turned
around to blow a kiss to the top of the ridge and say a farewell to his two
lost friends, "So long, you mother-*"
The words caught in his throat and choked him. Appearing over the crest of the
mountain was a massive lion's head, and as it rose up higher, the fur-covered
body of a man rose up below it. The head turned side to side, its mane
blowing in the wind, and then it turned to orient directly on him. He saw the
corners of its lips draw back from its teeth in a horrifying grin, and any
shred of composure that remained fled from him.
With a howl he turned and lurched down the slide. Loose rock rattled beneath
his feet, the treacherous footing seeming a minor threat compared to the
unholy terror that was now hurtling down the mountainside behind him. He
could feel a rhythmic trembling in the earth that sent even more rocks cas-
cading down; he could hear the thunder of its footfalls, and when he ventured
to throw a glance over his shoulder he saw it striding after him. WALKING
down the mountain, whereas he was scrambling at full speed, and still it closed
the distance. He looked ahead and saw the land-rover just ahead, tantalizingly
near. A shadow fell across him and blotted out the sun. He shrieked wildly
and raced forward, heedless of anything but the looming titan that he knew was
bearing down on him from behind. The vehicle drew closer and closer, but
now he could feel rushes of air displaced by the giant's footfalls. He could
not look back, frightened of seeing one of those mammoth feet descending on
him, to squash him like he would squash a bug. If it was coming, he did not
want to see it.
His hands struck the fender of the land-rover and he clawed his way to the
door, shouting in panic. The earth lurched under him as another footstep
carried the giant closer, and its shadow surrounded him now. He was
screaming as he clambored into the driver's seat and fumbled with the keys.
BOOM!! Through the side window he saw an enormous foot crash down to the
ground, only a few yards away. Clawed toes spread out as the giant's weight
shifted onto them. He jabbed the keys at the ignition, and they skittered
off the steering column and fell into his lap. Sobbing, he snatched them up
and thrust the key home. He turned it so hard it nearly broke off, and
when he looked up he saw the sky blotted out by a vast hand that dropped
toward him, fingers stretched out, filling his field of vision. He screamed.
Ryon was a little apprehensive as he climbed to the top of the hill. He had
never been outside the valley before. He didn't even know what he would see
up there. But that is where the little ones had come from, and his eagerness
to locate more of them outweighed his nervousness at entering unknown terri-
tory. When he reached the peak he paused to scan the horizon. It was
unlike anything he'd ever imagined: completely flat, save for another range
of mountains rising up in the far distance. It was almost like a vast sea of
grass with only these two islands rising up out of it. The little ones
couldn't possibly live out here. There was nothing, no trees, and . . .
His eye was caught by a brightly-colored speck on the hillside below, and
to his utter delight he saw the last little animal, the pretty one, crawling
around in the rocks! He forgot everything else, and prepared to stalk it,
but it had seen him and was running now. He growled and sprang after it, and
then though, what am I running for? It has nowhere to go. I might as well
take my time, and catch it when it reaches the grass at the bottom. It
probably lives in a burrow -- yes, that must be it, and would explain why the
drab one had tried to go underground. So he would just follow it and, if he
was lucky, he would find a whole colony of them to play with.
He padded after the fleeing little animal at a leisurely pace. It sure didn't
move very fast, which was in keeping with everything else he had learned about
them. It headed for a little square rock and wriggled under it just as his
foot landed nearby. No, not under it. IN it. This wasn't a rock, it was a
shell. And it had clear parts on it, and he could see the little one moving
around inside. Cool! He reached down to pick it up, wanting to get a better
look at this, when suddenly the shell jumped aside and raced away.
Ryon jumped back with a surprised hiss, and for a second he could only watch
the shell dart down the slope and into the grass. Then he gave a roar of
delight and bounded off after it, determined to catch it and see what made
it go. The little one had to be doing it, but could it really be moving its
teeny legs so fast underneath there? Whatever it was, he could not contain
his curiosity.
The shell raced through the low grass, and Ryon fell in behind it, in hot
pursuit. At first it was able to maintain its distance, but slowly, slowly
Ryon caught up to it. He swiped at it with his hand, missing; he growled
and tried again, this time with his claws extended, and felt them scrape
across its hard surface. The shell careened off to the right, and Ryon
turned sharply, his feet kicking up big clods of dirt that sailed off into
the distance. He closed the gap again and leaped, landing on his belly and
sliding, both hands pressed down hard on the shell. Panting from excitement
and exertion, he sat up and lifted the shell to his face, sniffing it. The
little one scrambled around inside and then fell out, plumetting with a thin
squeal. It bounced off of his thigh and landed in the grass, where it lay
unmoving. That didn't concern him, though. He stuck a curious finger inside
the shell, which was soft and spongy, and then he realized it was purring.
Mew! It was alive! But . . . no, no it wasn't. It was hard and cold, like
a shell Something else had to be alive inside it. He jabbed his finger at
it in a few places, stuck a claw up underneath, felt a pattering against it,
and then the purring stopped. Whatever it was that was alive in there, he had
killed it. Whimpering, he squeezed the shell in his hand, and found that it
flattened easily. He began to tear it apart with his claws, pulling open the
part that the little one had been in, sniffing at the soft parts. Soon he had
reduced it to jumbled shreds, but still, nothing that would have been purring.
He sighed, disappointed, now certain that he'd never know what made it go.
He dropped the mangled shell resignedly and turned his attention back to the
little one, who was slowly crawling away from him on all fours and making soft
chittering noises. He stood up and poked at it with his toe, pushing it over
onto its side. It did not fight back or struggle, just rolled back to all
fours and resumed crawling. Ryon followed its path with his eyes, and realized
that it was moving toward the far mountain range. He squinted, his sharp
eyes zooming in on the mountains and bringing them into focus.
Look at that! All around the foot of the mountains, shells! And little ones!
Hundreds of them, maybe thousands! He had found their nest at last. This was
going to be so much fun!
He looked down at the lone little animal at his feet and smirked. I'm glad I
found you again, he thought, but I don't need you anymore. Now I can play with
as many as I want to. But since you were so kind to show me where your nest
was, pretty one, I won't let you suffer.
Ryon put his foot on top of the little animal and pressed down, feeling it
crunch wetly under his pads. He twisted his foot side to side, grinding the
tiny body into the dirt, and then he started off across the plain toward the
teeming nest, leaving smaller and smaller red stains in every other footprint
as he went.
Even while he was still far away, Ryon could see the activity grow more and
more frantic in the canyons ahead. His prey obviously could see him coming,
and since there was no cover, there was no use in trying to stalk. Nor was
there any use in rushing; even has he had no cover, the little animals had
no cover, either, so he would be able to catch them easily. As he drew close,
he grew curious about the mountains, which were strange, square eruptions
with no vegetation at all. The little ones were probably plant-eaters,
and had stripped the hills bare. But then he reached the nest and got to look
at one of these hills up close. Why, it wasn't a hill at all! It was a
hive! He peered closely at what he thought were thousands of holes in its
face before he realized that they were covered with a transparent, waxy
material which easily broke with just a little bit of pressure. Through them,
he could see busy little animals bustling about; in some of the chambers,
they were crammed in so tightly it looked like they had to crawl over one
another just to move around.
He smiled, bending over to look in at the various levels of the hive, and
then standing up again. Some of the more heavily-occupied chambers were at
just the right height for him to have a little fun. The sounds of fear rising
from around his feet made his penis harden, a predator's reaction, and it would
be a shame to let that go to waste, so he clasped his furry arms around the
middle of the hive and started to press his belly against it, grunting as he
felt the clear wax yield.
The workers in the offices of Sabre Associates had no idea what was going on
in the street below. With the office as crowded as it was, they had to stand
two deep against the glass. Nobody was working -- nobody really could work,
as the uncertainty of what was happening outside gnawed at every mind. One
worker would say to the other, "Why the sirens? Why is everyone running?" and
would be met only with a shrug. Someone had volunteered to go downstairs to
the lobby and ask what the trouble was, but the supervisor had strictly for-
bidden it. People could be seen pushing into the front doors as if desperate
to get off the street, and the supervisor, fearing for his workers' safety,
had ordered that nobody would leave the office.
"What if there is a fire?" someone said nervously, but the others shook
their heads. No fire could be that large, and would not account for everyone
trying to get off the streets. What if, instead, an armed gang were roaming
about? What if it was another coup d'etat, such as some of them had witnessed
ten years earlier? The very thought made them shiver with dread, and they
all agreed that they were as safe as possible high up in their office, away
from the trouble.
Even as they came to this conclusion, their view of the street was abruptly
blocked out. It seemed as though a heavy curtain had suddenly been drawn
across the windows, but from the outside. Everyone started talking at once.
"What is this?" "Look, it's made of fur." "Where did it come from?" "It
looks like..."
And then the windows were filled by the horrifying face of a lion. Some
people thought that it was a parade balloon, but then it drew back its lips
to reveal enormous teeth. In one motion everyone turned from the windows
and tried to run, and only piled one on top of another in a screaming,
squirming mass. The ones furthest from the windows grabbed onto the carpeting
to try to haul themselves free, only to be pulled back by their desperate co-
workers as they too scrambled to free themselves.
The lion-face lifted out of sight again and the furry curtain rose up and up,
and then with a crash of glass an immense column of flesh burst through the
windows. It ploughed heavily over the workers in the middle of the tangle,
grinding their bodies under its weight and throwing others aside. It battered
aside desks and chairs and finally struck the far wall, catching the super-
visor in front of it and splattering his body across the bulletin board. It
then began to withdraw, leaving a long smear of redness and trailing a thin
line of clear fluid. It's flared end dragged a few screaming bodies with it;
they were pulled helplessly out through the shattered windows and fell out of
sight. Then, before anyone could recover, it thrust its way once more into
the office, herding the survivors away from the door as it moved to the side
concentating them in a small corner. It withdrew once more, still oozing its
trail on the carpet, and then rocketed forward into their very midst. The
wall behind them collapsed with the impact, which allowed a few to scramble
to safety through the ragged gap, but others were caught beneath it and crushed
as it dragged across them. Again and again it pummelled the office, shaking
the floor now with such force that those remaining were unable to keep their
footing and had to crawl. Light fixtures swayed and then collapsed, followed
by the tiles of the ceiling, and then chunks of concrete. As the dust rose,
workers felt their way blindly through the shuddering rooms. One woman headed
for daylight, and found herself back in the devastated office. The massive
flesh-column raced toward her, but before it struck her a torrent of heavy
cream burst from its end and send her sailing limply through the air. Through
the haze her officemates saw her ride the white tide until she crashed through
the windows on the north side and disappeared. Another wave washed through
the offices, and then another and another, the shaft spraying like a burst
water main. The floor became slippery and people fell, half-swimming through
the stuff, and then the building lurched once more, and the walls crumbled
around them.
Ryon mewed with delight as he emptied his load into the hive. He looked
down and saw his white stuff dribbling out of the hole he'd made, and he
giggled as a little one was washed out with it and fell to the ground.
He hugged the hive a little more tightly, wiggling his hips against it as
his cock shifted around inside, and then to his surprise the whole hive
fell apart and collapsed into a dusty heap at his feet, leaving a big
chunk of it still impaled on his shaft. Shrugging, he pulled it off, checked
it for morsels, and finding none, tossed it aside. Then he turned and peered
at the long expanse ahead of him, packed tightly with countless little ones
and their racing shells, although the shells couldn't move at all because
of the unshelled ones milling around them. They had nowhere to go, and
they were all his.
This was DEFINITELY more fun than a little lion should be allowed to have!
Ryon rumbled happily and started to walk forward, his feet coming down in
the midst of the teeming mass. It felt good beneath his feet, the little
bodies pressing up against them and then wiggling, and then finally popping
and turning into soft mush. He wiggled his toes as the warm pulp bubbled
up between them, and purred a little. He lifted his other foot and swung
it forward, then started to bring it down very slowly. Pieces of wet flesh
fell from it and rained down on the little ones, and this made them panic
even more. He watched as they tried to press out from under his foot, until
the mass there was very thin. So he moved his foot a little, holding it over
a spot where they were densely packed, and saw them thin out again, pushing
to the sides. It became a game, as he moved his foot gleefully over their
heads and watched them try to get out of its path. Sometimes, if they weren't
fast enough, he'd lower it down so that it almost touched their heads. They
would reach up and tickle his pads with their tiny arms when he did that, and
it delighted him. But soon he tired of this game, and started to pad down
the street again. His feet made wet noises with every step. Squelch, squelch,
squelch, squelch. He figured that he probably shouldn't be crushing them
like this, since it was a sin to waste food, but it was just too amusing to
hear and feel them squishing beneath his toes that he couldn't help himself.
A little further down he felt the stirring deep in his loins again. It sure
didn't take long for the white stuff to start pressing outward! He sat down
where he was, in the heart of the boiling mass, and felt the little bodies
crunch under his rump, and then under his thighs as he straightened his
legs out. Ohhh, and that luscious quivering under his tail reminded him of
what he'd wanted to try earlier -- but why stop at just two, when he had
millions at his disposal? His hand swept through the dense swarm between his
legs and gathered up as many as it could hold. Leaning far to the side, he
started to push them, one at a time, into his tight hole. The first few took
an effort, but after that, it seemed to grow easier. Lay them against the
opening, push up with the fingertip, feel them slide in and wiggle. He stuffed
a hole lot into himself until he felt pleasantly full, and then piled the rest
under his ass and sat on them. It was a wonder the white stuff didn't shoot
out right then, so intense was the feel of their kicking, especially against
one spot deep inside that they kept beating at and which made him almost dizzy.
But the white stuff didn't come out yet. No, it wanted help. And he grinned,
because right between his legs he had ALL the help he needed!
He brought his legs together, packing the throng even tighter, and leaned
as far forward as he could. That made his anus press down even harder on
the quivering mass beneath it, and he felt them start to compress. Just as
long as they don't die before I get my fun, he thought. Stretching his arms
out, he brought his hands down and started to scoop the little ones toward his
crotch. They flailed, piling up atop one another and rolling over and over,
the pile growing until it landed fully in his lap, burying his malehood to
half-shaft. The pile started to disperse quickly as individual little bodies
broke away and clambored over his legs to safety. That was all right -- he'd
catch them later.
Ryon groaned as he pressed in on the mass of little ones, grinding their
writhing forms against his balls and all around them. They squeezed up
tightly against his penis, and he began to smear them slowly up and down.
The effect was incredible! The bodies closest to his flesh would wriggle
against it until the pressure became too great, and they would squash; but
right behind them would be an endless host of more bodies which would wiggle
slickly now in the wet remains of their fellows, until they, too, would add
to the lubrication and be replaced by others. He started to gasp, squeezing
harder, clamping his thighs together to hold his plaything against his scrotum.
It was almost too much, the countless stroking limbs, the quivering massage,
his hands pressing inward harder and harder, until he felt the familiar spasms
and roared. White stuff leaped up high in a glorious arc and came crashing
down again on the heads of his playthings, in spurt after spurt, swirling with
red as it started to flow down his hands. Inside he felt the floundering
bodies compress with his spasms, crunching into a single wet mass, pieces of
which spurted from his anus as it tightened.
He allowed himself a few seconds to catch his breath, and then began to
lift the shredded, bloody mess in his lap to his lips. But no, he thought.
Why bother, when I have so many live ones? Living meat is always better than
dead. With that, he stood up, shaking himself to dislodge most of the
flattened corpses that clung to his rump, and padded off again.
He quickly caught up to the swarm as it fled through the hive-canyons. They
had run to an open area, crisscrossed with lots of cracks and lines in the
ground -- roots of some sort? -- and were scurrying over and around a big
rock arch that rose up over the gap, which he decided was a dry stream bed.
What was fascinating, though, was another arch that rose up high over the
other one. Kitten still at heart, Ryon could not resist this bit of fun!
His little ones could wait for a moment. Crouching, he leaped up high and
caught the uppermost portion of the arch in his hands. It held his weight,
and with a gleeful roar he started to swing back and forth, his toes brushing
through the throng of little animals on the lower arch and flinging them
away. This was fun! He swung faster, feeling the wind whistle through his
fur, almost like he was flying.
Then, suddenly, the upper arch gave way. Ryon fell hard on his butt, crashing
through the lower arch and landing in the stream bed, with dust and tiny bodies
falling down all around him. The breath was knocked from him, leaving him
gasping. With baleful eyes he looked around, and when he was certain that
nobody had seen him do that, he crossed the stream bed to where his little
pets were waiting.
The first thing that caught his eye on the other side was a huge shell, much
larger than the others, and it was teeming with animals. Funny little things!
They all wanted to be inside this shell, since it was so big. He reached
down and picked it up with two hands, one on each end, and peered closely
through the clear parts. Dozens of teeny flat faces looked back at him, and
then they started to climb over one another to get away -- as if they had any-
where to go! He brought it to his lips and thrust his tongue through a clear
part, and felt the mass of flesh squirming against it. That gave him an idea.
Turning the shell on its end, Ryon poked at the top; as he expected, it was
pliable, and he was easily able to push it in. His penis was hardening slowly
in anticipation of what he had in mind, and he lowered his face to the open
end and ROARED at them to make them scream. It also made their squirming more
frantic, which served his purposes just fine. He crouched down and spread his
thighs wide; holding the shell in one hand, he gripped his cock with the other
and used it to guide the meaty organ into the open end. He purred as the
dripping tip touched the animals within, and started to push himself deeper.
Slowly, slowly -- let's enjoy this! His wide cock compressed the little ones
like a piston, their desperate flailing against his tip only exciting Ryon
further. Some of them managed to squirm around the flange of his glans, only
to be trapped between the bulk of his shaft and the inside of the shell, where
they were smeared into jelly. He moaned, and pulled out a little, and then
thrust the shell down onto his cock. He felt his tip smash up against the
packed bodies, making them grow a little softer. Withdrawing again, he
paused a moment, and then thrust forward once more. Again the bodies grew
softer, and there was a bit less squirming now. Passion started to overtake
him, and he lay forward, pinning the shell down beneath his belly, and started
to thrust his hips powerfully, pounding his huge cock again and again and again
into the pulping mass. Screams continued to rise from inside the shell for a
while, but then there was nothing but the squishy sound of wet flesh. Ryon
snarled, his fingers digging deep furrows in the ground as his thrusting grew
wilder and his belly started to dent in the top of the shell with its heaving,
and then with a gasp he rammed his penis forward and spewed his white stuff
wildly. The far end of the shell exploded outward with the force, and mangled
bodies washed out in a river of red-swirled cream. Ryon's arms shook, and he
mewed weakly, letting his body settle down and flattening the shell around his
penis.
He took a few minutes to rest this time, though his ears kept swivelling
toward the sound of the swarm as it headed away from him. He didn't want it
to get too far away. When it sounded like they might be getting too distant,
he rolled over and got to his feet. The remains of the shell, still dripping
with red and white goo, was packed around his cock, and he giggled as he
paused to peel it away. Then he turned, sniffing and angling his head toward
the sounds of the retreating herd. Playtime was done, he thought. It was
time to eat.
Ryon pounded through the nearest canyons, but didn't see a single little one.
Ah, silly! They'd gone into their hives to hide. He looked for a nice big
one and peeked inside, through the clear parts. Yep...there they were. He
drew back a fist and smashed it through the flimsy rock, groping, feeling
walls disintigrate against his fingers. His foot swept forward, kicking
apart the bottom of the hive so he could push it over. Tiny bodies rained
down with the rubble, and bounced off of his fur. For a minute it looked like
this was a hopeless endeavor, because all he was going to get out of this would
be pulverized meat, but then he saw that with the destruction he was causing
to this hive, the little animals were abandoning their others and were once
again surging into the canyons. He smiled, lashed out with his fists to
shatter a few more of the hives, just in case some of the little ones did
not get the idea. The canyons filled rapidly, looking now just like they
had when he had first arrived. It was going to be a feast for him, and he. . .
OUCH! What the...? Hey!
Ryon gave an angry snarl and turned! Who threw that? Who was horning in on
his nest of prey? He'd seen it first!
But there was nobody there. Then something hit him again, in the chest,
and burst into a little ball of light. When it went away, the fur was parted
in a circle and left all sooty. Ryon scowled. Someone was throwing dirt-
balls at him, and he wanted to know who! He stomped down the canyon, kicking
aside the shells, and then suddenly came to a stop. Mew! What is that? At
his feet, all neatly lined up, were big, heavy-looking shells, with lines of
little ones behind them. He was taken completely off-guard, and forgetting for
a moment the mischievous dirt-thrower, he reached down to pick up one of the
big shells so he could get a closer look.
Something smacked his palm, and he jerked his hand back, peering at it curi-
ously. There, again, was a little sooty rosette, right in the middle of his
palm, and there was no doubt that it had come from the shell. So, the little
ones DID have some fight in them! But throwing dirt? Any intelligent animal
would have at least bitten him, but.
Puffs of smoke billowed up from the shells, and with bright flashes, circles
of soot started to blossom all over his fur. There were also thousands of
tiny impacts, like raindrops, all over his body, and when he brushed at
his fur he found grit in it.
Ryon roared in fury! Stop getting me dirty! I have to lick this off! In a
rage, he stomped forward and raised his mighty foot high, and brought it
down heavily on one of the shells. It was definitely more solid than the
others, but nonetheless, it crumpled and burst outward, spraying pieces of
itself in all directions. He lifted his other foot and stamped down hard on
the next nearest shell, smashing it likewise. That will teach them to throw
dirt at me, he thought, but apparently it didn't, because they just kept on
throwing. His fur was almost saturated with gritty specks now, and he yowled
in irritation. He started stamping his feet wildly, aiming for the shells,
crushing them flat. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, each hard
footfall reducing the annoying barrage of soot. As the number of shells
dwindled the little animals started to scurry about in disorder. Ryon's
hand swept through their midst and scooped up a whole bunch, which he tore
apart between his fingers. He began to stamp on them, too, trampling them
into paste, sweeping up handful after handful and squeezing them hard until
they popped.
Finally, the rain of soot and sand came to an end. Ryon looked around at all
the flattened shells and splattered corpses, and snorted. Get HIM dirty,
would they? With a scornful sneer he turned back toward the main swarm, to
feed.
All the stomping with the hard-shells had left him a little worn out and
had definitely helped to build his appetite. He didn't bother to bend down
to pick any little morsels up; instead, he strode into their midst and
dropped down to his hands and knees, then dipped his head. His jaws parted,
and he licked his tongue through the mass, gathering up a few and drawing
them into his mouth. He chewed noisily, his purr returning as their flesh
pureed and flowed over his taste buds. Swallowing that mouthful, he lowered
his head again; jaws gaping, he pressed his lips down in a densely-packed
area of the herd. When he closed his mouth, his teeth scooped up a dozen
or more. He lifted his head and swallowed hard, gulping them all down
whole. Ahhhh, that was nice! He did so enjoy the feeling of live prey
struggling in his gullet, and he'd never had so much of it at one time.
He let his gaze play over the crowd, and then lowered his head once more,
grazing on them, nipping up just a few at a time to chew up, so he could
enjoy the flavor. But his hunger was getting the upper hand now that his
appetite was whetted, and he started to eat more voraciously, his hands
now sweeping broadly through the herd and scooping them into his mouth,
cramming them in to be swallowed alive. It reached nearly a fever pitch,
so intoxicating was the feeling of such a nearly inexhaustible supply of
food. He cleared out all of the little ones within arm's reach and then
crawled forward, snatching up handful after handful and devouring them.
Eventually his belly began to feel full, and once again he allowed himself
the luxury of playing with his food. He crawled forward so as to once again
be in the thick of the herd, and then rose up to his knees, which skidded a
little as meaty bodies pulped beneath them. Gathering up a big handful of
struggling animals, he clasped them to his penis, which had not grown soft
throughout his entire playtime and was starting to show its own hunger anew,
and started to rub them up and down. The big organ was already slick with
fluid and with the mushy bodies of countless other little ones, so these slid
nicely against it. He stroked slowly with them, dragging them against his
shaft and gazing down at the vast swarm below him. He let their terrified
squealing add to the predatory pleasure of the twitchings inside his stomach,
and of the continuous beating and undulation against his cock. His purr
grew louder, and he thought for a minute of grabbing another handful to
push up his ass, but then he decided against it. The white stuff was already
starting to well up within him. He paused only long enough to shuffled for-
ward, since the herd kept shrinking away and he wanted to stay in the thick
of them, and then he growled and began to tighten his grip on the squirming
creatures, crushing them to warm, slippery pulp around his shaft. He grinned
cruelly down at the swarm and then tensed, hissing as his creamy white stuff
shot out yet again and curled through the air in long strings. He watched
with shuddery amusement as it descended and splashed down onto his playthings,
its heavy thickness bearing them down to the ground as more and more spurted
out and covered them.
When the pulsing had ceased, Ryon leaned down and giggled at the number of
tiny creatures who were mired helplessly in his cream. He backed up and
brought his face down close to them, peering at them with laughing eyes as
they flailed and rolled in the soupy mass. Then he pursed his lips in the
white stuff and sucked, slurping it noisily into his mouth. Its thickness
dragged a bunch of the trapped little animals with it, and they, too, were
pulled in. He laughed and sat up, rolling them around inside his mouth,
letting the cream wash them over his teeth, and then finally down his throat as
he swallowed them. That was fun, so he leaned over and sucked up some more,
until nearly all of it was gone. It really was an interesting sauce for them.
By now he was getting so full he was feeling lazy. He no longer crawled
after the retreating swarm, and only toyed with the stragglers. He pulled
one close and batted it idly around with his hand, until it started to bleed,
then just to be mean he pressed his thumb down on it so he could watch its
little limbs shudder and jerk as it died. Picking up another by the foot he
tore off its coccoon -- none of them were as pretty as the one he'd chased out
of the valley -- and slowly ran a leathery fingerpad over its smooth skin.
He laid it down and rolled it onto its back, running his finger over the
contours of its tiny body. Mildly surprising was the discovery that it had
what appeared to be a penis, and that it was growing hard, like his, as he
rubbed his fingertip against it. That made him smile, and he wondered if they
had white stuff in them, too. He dipped his finger in a little red splotch
on the pavement and started to rub it in a small, wet circle over the tiny
groin. The little one stayed hard, even though it was squealing and yapping
in fear, and after a little bit its body quivered. He lifted his finger --
yep! Just as he thought. He licked the finger clean, and then he pinched
the little animal's head between two fingers and started to crush it.
No. He'd keep this one, he decided. He could probably learn even more about
it once he got it home. And it was getting late. He did want to be home
before sundown, and that wasn't far off. Scanning the canyon below he found
a shell that was long and tubular, without any openings. He made one, and
slipped his little animal inside. As he made his way back through the maze
of hives he found a few more and caught them, and slipped them, too, into
the shell so he could carry them home. By the time he reached the edge of
the colony, he had perhaps thirty of them, and already, ideas were forming
of new ways to amuse himself with them when he got them home.
Ryon's belly was still twitching nicely as he padded across the wide flatland
toward his valley, with the sun sinking slowly behind him. He reflected on all
the truly wonderful things he had discovered that day -- truly, he had to be
the happiest lion in the whole world! He had plenty of food, and would grow
big and strong like his father. And he had found the best playthings ever!
And even though he had pretty well destroyed one hive, there were bound to
be others, and he'd go out and try to find them tomorrow. There was, after
all, a whole big, fascinating world out here for him to explore.
--
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My wife, my best friend, I always thought a dog lover was
my box of milkbones. a dog that loved another dog.
- James Thurber
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