FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A weekend at Alice's cabin

By Strega

"Ever ask her out?", Jim said in between bites of sandwich. The wolf sitting across from him coughed and almost spit out his drink.

"Alice? No way. She likes her alone time."

'I saw her looking at you. She wants some wolf meat in her diet."

Bill winced and Jim grinned. "C'mon, you know you'd hit that. You're twice her size, she'd be-"

"Look Jim, let me give you some advice. Leave it alone. Alice may look, but she doesn't touch. Not me, not Phil over in accounting, not you. Leave it be."

But Jim didn't. He wanted that vixen and he was pretty sure he was going to have her.

Every month Alice took a long weekend off, or sometimes rotated her work days so that she worked the weekend and had a few days off in a row elsewhere in the week. "Family business", she'd say if asked.

Few ever asked more than once because Alice wasn't a social animal. Attempts to drag her into conversations garnered nothing more than an irritated grunt as she made her way back to her desk. Bernie, a handsome if aging jaguar who worked two cubicles over, had asked her out a few times and even met her for lunch at the cafe down the block once a week, but that's the farthest anyone got. Every time someone got too close to Alice she'd sigh, look a bit sad, and find something else to talk about.

Jim was going to be the one to change that. He was a handsome fox and knew it, and though he could have his pick of ladies at the office or bar (so he told himself, and to be fair he'd had his share of success) the one he wanted was Alice. She'd shot him down twice but he'd worked out the perfect way to approach her.

He'd watched her leave on her weekend jaunts a dozen times now, and the last two times he'd followed her to the entrance of a a private road half an hour up into the mountains outside town. A little Internet sleuthing and he determined there was nothing there but a little cabin. Not a place for a family get together as she maintained, but just a place to be alone.

This time he wouldn't turn back at the signs. A nice romantic getaway was just what the doctor ordered to thaw out the ice queen. With a sly smile on his muzzle he watched Alice leave the office on Friday, gave her a couple of hours to get to the cabin and get settled, and set off after her.

It never occurred to him to check the calendar. Others had made the connection that Alice's three-day absences always coincided with the full moon but Alice was clearly in charge of the problem and they kept their mouths shut on the subject. There was a reason the vixen avoided relationships and if he'd thought about it he would have wondered why the boss and certain co-workers bent over backward to accommodate Alice's revolving time-off schedule.

But Jim's mind was on the slender vixen, her fluffy tail, the curve of her hips and the small breasts she kept hidden beneath unflattering blouses. He jumped into his car with a back seat full of picnic basket and flowers with the complete confidence that everything was going to go swimmingly.

Forty-five minutes later he drove past the warning signs and onto a dirt road that probably needed a visit from a road grader before the winter rains hit. He drove into the shadow of the mountains and the stars were just beginning to appear. The overhead view he'd gotten from Gnugle Earth made it look like there was only one parking space in the cleared area around the cabin, so he stopped at a wide spot in the dirt road and headed in on foot. A little recon couldn't hurt, after all.

Soon he was peering past the undergrowth at the cabin. It was a well maintained little thing with a wooden first story perhaps twenty by thirty feet with mostly shuttered windows, only one lit, resting on a concrete foundation. A wisp of smoke curled from a pipe chimney and in the light of the full moon Jim smiled. The pines crowded close around the little cabin, mountain peaks in view on two sides, and a little brook burbled by. He could hardly have asked for a more romantic spot.

He'd say hello and then go get the picnic basket. The flowers he had with him were enough of a start. Jim straightened his tie and put on his best charming smile as he knocked on the door.

He got no answer. The smile slipped a bit as he knocked again, then slowly turned into a frown. She had to be here. Her car was here! The light was on, there was fire in the fireplace. Slowly he turned the knob and sure enough, the door was unlocked.

"Alice? Alice, it's Jim from work." There was an empty vase on the little table next to the wood-burning stove and he slipped the roses into it. "I brought a picnic basket, thought you could use a little company...."

There was still no answer. Dreading what he might find he peeked through various doors, finding two small bedrooms and a bathroom, but no Alice. He stood in the little common area, considering the dying fire behind glass doors in the Franklin stove, the one little lamp still on. It was on a timer, but the timer only went to two hours and half an hour was left. Someone had been here but there wasn't anything happening that needed close attention. Maybe she'd gone for a walk in the woods?

Jim's eyes went wide as a tremor went through the cabin. It almost felt like something had hit it! He hurried back outside, wondering if a boulder had rolled down from the hills. He hadn't heard a car approach, and sure enough the dark lot still had only Alice's car.

It was while looking for the imagined boulder that he saw that the ground dropped off steeply behind the cabin. Following the well-worn trail he discovered that the cabin, one story tall in front, was two stories tall behind. What he had thought was a concrete foundation was the top of a concrete bunker, or maybe an old bomb shelter. Slit windows only a handbreadth wide flanked a steel plate door that had a narrow, barred slot at eye level.

Jim almost jumped out of his skin as something hit the door from the inside. There was a flash of fur visible for an instant through the slot and he realized what had happened. Someone had trapped Alice in her cellar!

"Alice?" The response was a confused whine, and Jim fumbled with the bolt. The door and its locks were massive, almost like a vault door, and the bolts spread out from the central lever to sink into steel sockets above, below, and to each side. The bomb shelter, or whatever it was had been build to last.

With a few strong yanks he got the lever turned and the bolts pulled out of their sockets. The inch-thick steel door creaked inward past walls at least two feet thick and the light of the full moon showed Jim exactly what sort of mistake he'd just made.

It was the claw marks that were the first warning, deep scratches on the concrete doorway, the equally stony floor, and even on the inner edges of the thick, armored doorframe. His eyes followed the floor scratches until they reached a mass of fur and claws and red eyes staring back at him.

Before he could even think to slam the door a long-clawed hand that could have wrapped its fingers entirely around his head darted out and yanked it from his grasp. Almost too fast to follow the werewolf was on its feet, half again as tall as he was, all sinewy muscle and teeth and springing through the doorway.

Somehow he threw himself out of the way and the next thing he knew he was sprinting into the woods with no memory of how he'd left the cabin or even which direction it was. The thing foremost on his mind was not niggling little details like that but the racing pawfalls of the werewolf coming after him on all fours.

In high school not so many years ago he twice came in second among the two-footed sprinters . Maybe if the werewolf had obliged and run like that he'd have had a chance, but over a short distance four legs is better than two. He had hardly crashed through the first branches into the moonless shadows when a long arm reached out and sent him flying forward even faster.

Jim bounced end over end, nearly snapping his tail at the base and losing both shoes in the tumble. The undergrowth tore at his clothes and he fell and slowed him enough that he wasn't killed outright. He tried desperately to roll back onto his feet but the werewolf had him pinned to the ground before he could move. He stared upward at the wild-eyed beast, catching sight of two sets of breasts through the dark fur and at last realizing what was happening.

"Alice! Alice, it's me! Jim from work!" He pushed at the werewolf's massive muzzle as it sniffed at him, then tried to push it away as its teeth dug into his shirt and tore most of it away with one snap of its jaws. It ignored its efforts to escape, gripping him in long-fingered hands as it looked him over. One hand came away to rip at his clothes once more and Jim suddenly had visions of dying of a crushed pelvis as a werewolf three times his size had its way with him.

But that wasn't the way he was going to die at all. The werewolf - Alice - pulled him close, gripping him in huge hands far too strong to fight as it once more sniffed at him. It didn't seem to recognize him. He was sure it was Alice, though. The strange three-day absences from work, which must correspond to the period around each full moon, made sense now. She looked him over, licked her chops, and yawned.

Jim stared past the row of fangs into her gullet for the moment it took her muzzle to rock forward and take in his head. For a moment his long skull and foxy snout were squeezed between jaws that could have crushed it to a pulp, then her strong tongue gave a powerful push from below and Jim found himself sliding nose-first into the werewolf's throat.

She could have bitten his head off, torn away his limbs, disemboweled him and fed on his innards. All of those things seemed far more likely than to have her pushing her jaws loosely over his shoulders, yet that was exactly what she was doing. Her flexible Were pelt bulged and stretched as his head slipped into her gullet and saliva slicked down his headfur to ease swallowing as the hungry werewolf began to feed.

His arms were pinned to his side by her huge hands and bit by bit by her jaws as well but Jim kicked and wriggled, unable to believe she was swallowing him whole. Weres were naturally flexible, being shape changers, but he'd never heard they were this flexible! She must not want to waste a drop of blood or shred of flesh and crammed him deeper, his shoulders popping past the loose bones of her jaws and following his nose down her throat.

Slippery throatflesh slid over and around Jim's narrow foxy muzzle as she shoved him deeper, working her jaws from one side to the other to take in his torso. In moments he was to the waist in her maw and the werewolf heaved her head upward, easily lifting his hundred and sixty or so pounds until he hung head down in her jaws. With an easy yawn she let him slip deeper and Jim could only kick in terror as gravity sent him sliding down Alice's gullet. The stinking heat of her throat was replaced by an even greater heat and the awful smell of bile as his muzzle and face emerged into her stomach.

His half-shredded slacks tore as her canine fangs caught, arresting his slide for one blessed moment, but she tossed her muzzle upward again and this time she swallowed. Jim whimpered as powerful throat muscles gripped and pushed, sending his shoulders and torso into her stomach as well, and he could only kick helplessly as Alice consumed his legs with a series of gulps. With a toss of her muzzle there was nothing but a white-furred foxy tailtip and his legs from the knees down still outside, and she pulled at her belly with one clawed hand , forcing the bulge to sink down toward her abdomen. With a last bob of her muzzle she swallowed and the last of him slipped past sharp werewolf fangs.

Jim could only wriggle desperately as the fanged jaws closed over his feet, but he had no more chance of escape now than he had when his head was between her jaws. Alice the werewolf lifted her nose and swallowed, and the grip of her throat moved the bulge down out of her neck and sent the last of him into her belly.

A five hundred or so pound werewolf had a hundred and sixty pound fox in her gut and the bulge was heavy, tight, and droopy. Jim felt it sag and sway as she dropped to all fours, her throat resuming its usual diameter as its musculature forced his toes into her stomach along with the rest. The entry sphinctered shut and he was squeezed into a fetal ball by the wet flesh squeezing in from all sides, the strong muscle and hide of the werewolf reducing his best effort to escape to mere wriggling. The walls of her stomach were slick and strong and he couldn't get any purchase with his carefully trimmed claws, or force a fold of it into his mouth to bite. She was too stretched around her meal to leave any bits sticking in for him to grab between his teeth.

Jim squirmed in the rising pool of stomach juices that already stung his skin, burning first at his nose and lips and more slowly elsewhere as the acids soaked through his fur. His torn clothing provided protection for only a moment until it was soaked as well and Jim could only whine in pain as she slowly began to digest him. There was nothing to be done, even if he'd had a knife he wouldn't have known to bring a silver one and -

Wait! He had his cell phone! He fumbled at his waist, fingerpads already feeling slick and greasy as they began to dissolve, and dug the phone out of his pocket. The screen came on and illuminated the ghastly pink interior of the stomach, his wet fur sodden already with the sloshing pool of bile-yellow acid that rose every higher. He was doomed now, he knew. Help might arrive in time to subdue Alice and recover his body before he was completely digested, but it could not possibly show up before he suffocated in the ever shrinking pocket of air. The best he could hope for was to leave a recognizable body for the funeral instead of ending up as a pile of werewolf shit.

Jim cursed and shook the phone as the screen flickered and went out for a moment. Acid had gotten into something vital and the thing wasn't enjoying the digestive process any more than he was. He banged the thing against his cheekbone, as his other arm was trapped painfully against his side by the inward pressing muscle, and the screen came back on. He only had to dial three digits -

He hadn't been paying attention to the werewolf's movements, thinking that his situation couldn't possibly get any worse. Whether she lay down for a nap or went on a jog her belly would still do its work. He missed her sudden lunge, noticing only the nauseatingly sway of her belly, and the upward snap of her head. He didn't realize anything was going on until the raccoon showed up.

Suddenly in the light of the little screen was a fuzzy bandit-masked face, little darkfurred hands and a sharp-toothed snarl. Somehow the werewolf had happened across a feral raccoon as it did whatever a werewolf does after swallowing a man whole and with one snap of her jaws she sent the little bandit on the same trip down her throat Jim had just taken.

"Wait, no-" Jim said as the raccoon let out a frenzied chitter and began to claw and bite. Terrified and with only a sodden fox to take its aggravation out rather than the werewolf responsible for its woes the thirty-pound beast exploded in flurry of claws and sharp, sharp teeth. Jim dropped the phone into the acidic slime as fangs sank into his palm and for the next minute could do nothing but try to ward off the frightened and angry beast. Finally he had to bite it and clamped down on its neck to subdue it even as he tried to work its fangs out of his wrist. The struggle took everything he had and somewhere in the middle of it the werewolf let out most of the swallowed air in a lengthy belch. Airless dark sloshing with acid closed in as Jim tried to find the now-dark phone amidst all the slime and still struggling raccoon.

The burning sensation of digestion spread across his body as the pool of bile reached his muzzle and there was no longer anything to breathe but hot acid. He and the raccoon held their breaths for as long as they could but ultimately each sucked in a lungful of bile, which started the digestive process on the insides just as it was proceeding on their outsides. The tight muscle pressing in muffled their last frantic struggles as each did his heroic best to not end up as a meal, and failed.

The werewolf belched and sat down to think as such creatures do, deciding if she was still hungry. A Were's body consumes a fearsome number of calories to change shape and regenerate injuries, but she wasn't doing either of those things. Two hundred pounds of assorted prey made a great bulge in her middle and she decided that for now, at least, she was full. The struggle in her middle stopped at some point, not that she'd ever paid it much mind, as she stretched out on her side. That gave the bulge room to spread out and soon she was asleep, lulled by the slow gurgles emerging from her middle.

******

Alice woke and instantly knew something was wrong. She should be in the bunker with its recessed motion-activated lights and complex puzzle lock she could open only after minutes of painstaking work. Instead she lay blinking up at the dawn shining through leaves. She sat bolt upright in terror...or tried.

An immense bulge protruded from her naked midriff, her orange and white fur stretched thin over a mass that must be at least as great as her own. Lumps and bulges showed the bone structure amongst what must be softened meat and sinew. Somehow her werewolf self had escaped and she was weighed down with its meal.

"Oh god." She felt the bulge with cautious fingers, trying to make out a shape. "I hope it's just a deer."

The pace of other other self's Were metabolism and the energy it took to assume her larger form made it - her - reluctant to waste food, and it wasn't the first time she'd woken to find she'd swallowed an entire ham or the half dozen chickens she'd left for the werewolf to eat. Shape changing could change her basic mass, since her foxwoman self was perhaps a quarter of her huge werewolf self's bulk, but food was another matter. Until it was more processed than this mass it stayed the same in both forms. The result was her groaning as she tried to stand with more than her own weight in belly throwing her off balance.

Alice hiccuped as she managed to get to her feet, her increased weight almost painful for her thin foxy ankles. Her belly sloshed and another air bubble made its way up, producing a long and foul-tasting belch. She looked around for any signs of what the meal had been and found nothing. No scraps of clothing, thankfully, but no hard to swallow antlers torn from their owner and discarded, either. Nor did she see any tracks. If her Were self had eaten here, whatever her meal or meals were had gone down intact. The meal was softened by digestion and there was a confusion collection of bony shapes she could feel through her pelt. There was simply no way to know what she had eaten.

Groaning, her sloshing belly gripped with all her might between her hands, she managed to stagger a dozen paces until she could rest against a tree. Her back hurt already. She'd woken up full before but nothing like this. Even for her Were self it must have been a filling meal and on her petite vixen self the bulge was monstrous. It was as though she were pregnant with a dozen litters of cubs all at once. There were some furs, like Ben the badger in the graphics department, who could scuttle up a set of stairs on on all fours thanks to having arms and legs the same length. That'd be very handy right now but she was too humanoid.

The good news was she thought she recognized the spot she'd woken. These wilderness jaunts and their enforced isolation led to many a walk through the woods when she wasn't reading. The cabin had few amenities, a stove for heat, solar panels for a modicum of power (mostly used for lights) but no television or computer connection. Cell phone reception was spotty at best so she'd walked these woods until she knew each tree practically by name.

It took fifteen minutes of panting effort, staggering from rest to rest and balancing with outthust tail, before the cabin hove into view. She was behind it and sure enough, the armored door was open. She staggered over to it, leaning heavily against the concrete wall, and looked for tracks. There was nothing but werewolf tracks...or was there? There was a shoe sole pattern. But she wore shoes in her normal form and it was about the same size, digitigrade and seemingly canid or vulpine. Still sick with uncertainly she peeked into the dark interior, then around the corner of the house, but there was nothing inside but the oversized padded dog bed she replaced every trip as it was torn to shreds along with a few other sturdy and spartan furnishings. Nor was there a car out front other than her own.

Alice breathed a sigh of relief as she finally reached the front door. Wandering naked through the woods with more than her own weight in food weighing down her belly was no picnic. She smiled at that thought, then made a beeline for the bathroom.

One modern convenience she had was a flush toilet, as she couldn't bear the thought of an outhouse. A rain cistern and water tank fed the simple thing and every year or two she had the septic tank pumped.

She sat on the seat just in time as he body began sending urgent signals that something had to give. Five hundred pounds of werewolf had swallowed more than her current weight in food and partially digested it overnight, and her own body was continuing the process. All the mass had to go somewhere and she groaned as her overstretched colon gave up its burden. A lengthy column of used food departed her body, which was a great relief even considering all the rest that would leave her body soon enough.

With her toilet complete she stood, forcing herself to look into the bowl at the coiled mass. It never failed to amaze her how much poop came out after a werewolf's meal. It'd be more convenient for everyone if that bulk just went wherever her extra mass went, returning to be digested and passed by her much larger wolf form. It was built and sized to handle ten-pound bowel movements, unlike her.

Thankfully the great coil of brown matter showed no trace of clothing. She saw some orange hair mixed in but it blended in with the brown and she wasn't sure there was enough to worry about. A creature covered in fur inevitably swallowed some of its own while eating, sleeping or even just breathing.

The toilet, like her Were self, had oversized plumbing and she disposed of the residue with a single flush. Feeling ever so slightly lighter she struggled into a pair of sweat pants - she didn't even try to put on a top - and collapsed into a chair by the window. There was nothing for it now but settle down for the long haul. She had books to read and clean water to drink and a bathroom steps away, which she would use repeatedly all day. Even in this form some of her Were vitality remained and she was busily digesting whatever the meal had been. She'd need that toilet again, and soon.

In her stretched belly were the remains of a foxman and a raccoon, flesh softened and sloshing among the acid. The two skeletons mingled together, gradually crumbling as a Were's powerful stomach acids did the slow work of breaking down even this tougher nut. Bit by bit the flesh and bone was rendered into a slurry of nutrients, passing through the pyloric sphincter into her small intestine. Fox and raccoon were treated equally by her stomach, each slowly dissolving and making its way through her digestive tract. Only a couple of hours later enough had accumulated in her large intestine to force her to visit the toilet once more, and again undergo the disgusting ritual of examining her bowel movement for evidence.

Each bowel movement throughout the day contained more and more orange fur, now mixed with gray-brown, and Alice worried. Grey fur could be anything, raccoon, groundhog, even a deer. But orange? There was an awful lot of it and she found it hard to credit the werewolf with eating that many red foxes. They were nimble little things, not easily caught by a hulking werewolf no matter how fast it ran.

As the sun was setting and she was checking the puzzle lock to make sure nothing had gone wrong - she couldn't believe her Were self had managed the lock - the toilet beckoned once more. After a particularly lengthy and uncomfortable bowel movement she stared in horror into the bowl. She had just passed a long coil of nearly all fur...fur, powdered bone and scraps of clothing.

"Oh, no," Alice breathed. Her stomach was only two-thirds its previous size and she'd begun to hope her Were self had swallowed a deer and an unlucky red fox or two. Now the incessant process of digestion had yielded up evidence of something worse.

"I think I ate someone," she said to herself as she flushed. "But who? I'm up here alone and there's no one else on this whole mountainside. That's why I bought the cabin." Homeless person? Hiker? Whose remains were making their way through her guts, turning into fat on her hips and vixen shit?

With a sigh she made her way back into the bunker and slowly closed the armored door. The moon was about to rise. The only good news was that the change into Were form and back would burn a huge number of calories, plus her other self's efforts to escape would burn still more. By the next day she should be back to normal.

That turned out to be an over-optimistic assessment. The next morning she blinked awake in the dog bed, happy at least that her Were form hadn't escaped again. The bad news came with the stink. Her other self was more animal than sapient and couldn't be trusted with a toilet. Luckily it always used the same corner of the shelter and as usual her first action after opening the puzzle-lock was to shovel its leavings into a Home Depot bucket to transfer them to the toilet.

It was a lot more work than usual, because instead of ten or twenty pounds of werewolf shit it was more than fifty. The paunch she still carried showed that she wasn't quite done digesting the meal but between yesterday and last night she and her Were self had passed most of it. And among the neat piles of werewolf shit was another lengthy bowel movement consisting almost entirely of fur and clothing.

Revolted despite her monthly shelter-cleaning duties she picked apart the tight mass of hair and fabric and eventually revealed a partially digested cell phone that would never work again, some plastic buttons, a nylon clothing tag and some credit cards which had gone all the way through without suffering any apparent damage. Finally she knew who she had eaten.

"Oh, Jim," Alice muttered. "I come out here to be alone for a reason. I guess you just wanted to be with me." Lighter now and able to walk properly, the vixen walked down the dirt road and sure enough, there was the fox's car, complete with a picnic basket and wine in the back seat. Alice sighed.

There was no help for it. Nothing short of divine intervention would bring back the fox, the last of whom she'd flush before sunset. A hundred and sixty pounds of fox plus some other animal, maybe a raccoon, were completing their trip through her body. By the morning her Were self would be famished again and all that would be left of Jim was a few credit cards and some new fat on her butt. It was by far the biggest single meal her Were self had ever had but like all the others it had been efficiently processed. Flesh and bone a fox had spent thirty years growing had taken less than a weekend to break down into nutrients and poop.

Alice hadn't eaten in two days and still wasn't hungry but she carried the picnic basket in and poured herself a glass of wine. There were protocols to be followed when a licensed Were ate someone and she'd walk down the road to that one spot where she could usually get a connection and call the cops. There was a lot of paperwork to be done and it didn't help that Jim probably hadn't told a soul what he was planning. He'd come here to romance her, most likely, not realizing that she isolated herself for a reason.

It had its drawbacks, severe ones. A Were under too much stress might transform and as a result she hadn't had sex since she was sixteen and her condition developed. She cast covetous glances at tigers and fellow foxes, wolves, even that little wolverine who worked at the cafe, wide as he was tall. You could tell he'd be the type to bite her scruff and give her what for.

But too much excitement might bring the Were out and even a tiger might not be safe. Her condition was manageable with discipline was needed and discipline she had developed.

She picked out sausages and bread from the picnic basket to leave in the bunker for the werewolf, and more for herself. Some food had already spoiled but there was enough to last the weekend even if the cops didn't make her come down to the station and fill out a report in person.

Her guts gurgled and Alice headed to the bathroom to deposit another portion of converted fox. She felt terrible about it, but he really had brought it upon himself. Her boss and a few co-workers knew the truth but she couldn't just tell everyone and Jim had paid the price both for her silence and his own eagerness. Sneaking off to be with a woman who didn't even know you were coming might work out for some, but it hadn't worked out for this fox.

"Well, Jim, you wanted to spend the weekend at the cabin with me," she said to the shrunken bulge in her middle as she sat on the throne. "And you did. Not the way you wanted, but here you are."