FSE

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I still remember the day she walked into my office, looking for answers. Not too old, not too young, she had a mother's breasts, and the wide barrel and hips to match. I'd even go so far as to call her beautiful, but she wasn't my type. The black-haired, black-furred centaur moved with a loose strength that betrayed her anger. At first, I wondered what I'd done, but she wasn't angry at me.

She had a job for me.

You see, I was a private investigator, and she knew that I took up cases when the police looked the other way. Centaurs struck a tricky balance in Az'tch'ton, neither the biggest of creatures, nor with any magical talent, centaurs, elves, pegasi, and werewolves had to rely on each other to get justice through the Law. Many elves knew magic, at least, but they were the frailest creatures of all. Sure, there were plenty of police officers and detectives employed by the government, but I knew first hand how far a uniformed dragon or gryphon would go to help a centaur.

So I started my own detective agency, keeping detailed notes and records of the investigations I do. The Law didn't like me operating outside their system, but as long as I did nothing illegal, they had to act on my evidence. I'd helped a lot of poor centaurs already, and I aimed to help a lot more.

Across the table from the woman, whose name was Magra, sat me and my sister, Willa. I'd like to say we were partners, but she'd never gotten the detective bug like I had. While I worked on my brain, she concentrated on magic. I have to admit, she tended to pay the bills, and her skills often made or broke an investigation, so I was always glad to have her along.

And she was always along. I was the one sitting right next to Willa -right next to her. You see, my sister and I shared everything...even our bodies. From the neck down, we resembled a hart: brown fur, little flag-like tail, cloven hooves. But there were other differences. We were as big as a draft horse, and could speak, and use magic. And unlike a doe, we had two necks, fused as one, side by side. I, Ulalia, on the right, Willa on the left.

Just as there were many chimaeras in Az'tch'ton, bizarre combinations of eagles and lions and zebras and horses, there were multi-headed beasts. I'm sure you've heard of hydras? The lizards were known for regrowing their heads. We couldn't do that, as far as I knew, and we only had two heads rather than the somewhat more typical three. I didn't mind - my sister and I were close - but I don't know if we could handle a third strong-willed personality following us around.

We didn't talk long. Magra told her story and we took the case immediately. Willa seemed more interested than usual, perhaps because this wasn't a simple "follow him and see if he's cheating" sort of deal. No, we were investigating a murder. And we were headed straight for the scene of the crime.

We trotted into the expansive Club D'vour looking for answers. Most people didn't know about the dank, twisted underbelly of Az'tch'ton, one of the four colossal city-states of the feylands. But as sure as the brightly-painted schools, hospitals, and banks held society together near the top of the underground paradise, down below suspicious thugs and downright criminals churned and digested the honorable into a messy slop.

And if the story I've been told is true, that digesting might be literal!

According to Magra, her son Loruncai was set to marry a gorgeous young filly named Polyna, with a thick, muscular rump, golden hair, and slender, almost elfin body (except for her full-figured chest, Magra added). Loruncai had gone missing just before the wedding - at the bachelor party, no less! Magra had learned the bad news from Searlao, Loruncai's childhood friend and best man. Apparently, they had gone down to Club D'vour on the night of the 24th of Kooblagesh. Only four members of the party had had the guts to use the club's 'services', and the fiance, Loruncai, was one of them.

When Searlao couldn't find his friend, the staff at Club D'vour explained (rather casually) that Loruncai had invoked a particular clause in his contract, and had been swallowed whole and digested by one of the attractions, named Kiao.

Digested.

I shook my head, still having trouble believing the existence of such a place. Club D'vour specialized in swallowing their clients whole. Elves, centaurs, and werewolves would come to the club, enter a room with a massive predator, and allow themselves to be pulled down the massive throats into the creature's stomach.Why would anyone do that?

It was supposed to be perfectly safe: each client signed a contract informing them of their rights. I'd read one already, but it only gave me more questions. The contract was relatively simple: they promised not to harm or kill you in the process of devouring you (and subsequently spitting you up), unless you chose to waive those protections. I checked with the government, and everything is legal, amazingly. If a guest wants to waive their protections, they would just have to say, "Eat me!" and the monster would be glad to comply.

Searlao was told that Loruncai waived his protections, and as such, was not released. As according to law, Club D'vour released a magical recording of the ten seconds before and after Loruncai said, "Eat me!" to Searlao, who returned to Polyna to relay the bad news.

Her fiancee was dead.

When Magra found out she'd contacted me immediately, on recommendation from a friend I'd helped out of jail a month or two before. Loruncai, she said, would never have agreed to be eaten, especially not the night before the wedding! Magra was certain that Club D'vour had magically altered the tape, eating Loruncai against his will. I must admit, I was rather tempted to believe her.

Now I just needed the proof.

We walked through the main doors of the club, looking around. The walls displayed advertisements for each of their...attractions, with pictures. Wuleimon the red dragon was the largest, though he did not have the largest gut. That honor went to Borlgore, who seemed to resemble a huge toad. He had strong, thin, but muscular legs and arms, walking upright like the demihumans, and a tight, smooth gut that must stretch as large as he himself was, and he was twice my height. Arlasha was the largest gryphon I had ever seen, and she could probably have managed a full centaur on an empty stomach. Their smallest predator was Gronmor the manticore, only big enough to handle the smaller clientele.

Lastly, there was a dire naga, Kiao. That was the one I wanted, though I had to shiver at the mere thought of the beast. He was like a giant snake with arms, far bigger than your standard naga. One picture showed his long gut stretched wide over a bulge as big as the frog-like Borlgore, with the caption "Kiao takes a full-grown dragon for a ride." The dire naga would have had no trouble swallowing Loruncai whole.

At the front desk, an _elf_of all people waited to serve us. While elves oftened filled the role of menial servants, the thought of such a soft, pink creature coming to work every day with five, hungry monsters _trained_to swallow their prey seemed more than a little unwise. What kind of elf would knowingly take this job?

"Welcome to Club D'vour, Madames. May I interest you in one of our attractions?"

Willa seemed amused by the whole business. With a smirk, my sister said, "Talk to her, I'm just being dragged along."

"Don't mind her," I said, looking over the creature to determine that it was male. "My name is Ulalia, and I'm not actually looking for your...'services'. I was wondering if I could talk to the manager of this establishment?"

The elf blinked. "Why, may I say, are you calling?"

I decided to keep everything up front for now. As much as I suspected something shady about this place, they were innocent until proven guilty. "I'm investigating a recent client of yours. I understand you keep records of all interactions?"

The elf shifted his feet. "I'm not qualified to answer that. If you will excuse me, I will get the owner."

After the servant had disappeared into the back room, I turned to my sister, always just a few feet to my left, and said, "He seemed awfully nervous, don't you think?"

Willa met my eyes, but said, "Probably the first time he'd met a two-headed doe five times his weight asking tough questions about his bosses. I don't think the elf knows anything."

"Maybe..."

It wasn't long before he returned, and this time he ushered the two of us toward a large door with no adornments. This was access to the employee section of Club D'vour, without all the ritz and glitter. I followed the man closely, _sniffing_discreetly to get a sense of his mood. He definitely smelled anxious.

"Stop that..." Willa leaned over and whispered in my ear. "You're scaring him."

I rolled my eyes at her. He was scared before, because I was 'sniffing' for clues. Probably.

The dark hallway took a sharp turn to the left, and I noticed a row of windows that looked out into bright, well-lit rooms. I had to stop and turn our whole body to look through since Willa was in the way, but the bright rooms on the left were empty. Still, it was obvious, their purpose. There were large doors on the side from which the predators would emerge, as well as a client entrance. This was the pillow-clad space where predator met prey, and where Loruncai may well have met his untimely end.

The third room had an occupant, and judging by his rather lean belly, he was waiting for an appointment. It was Gronmor, the manticore. He stood as tall as me, a massive lion with bat-like wings and a huge, scorpion tail. He was curled up on the pillows, flicking his tail lazily.

"Come along," the elf urged, and I allowed us to follow, though I noticed Willa's gaze following the manticore.

"Have you ever done it, elf?" my sister asked.

"Excuse me, madame?"

"You work here. Have you ever used its services?"

The elf shook his head. "It's 'not for me'."

To the right, the elf tapped magical runes, and the huge stone door slid sideways, grinding softly against the floor. Beyond, a large room with a wall of glowing lights on the left and a large desk held a small but powerful figure: a goblin. Normally, I wouldn't consider a goblin powerful, but the way she sat, grinning at us, showed no fear, even though we outweighed her a dozen times over. Perhaps she possessed powerful magic, though she probably didn't realize that my sister did, too.

As the servant left, we walked inside. My right ear flicked as the stone door closed behind us, but we kept our flag tail up, ears as upright as possible.

"I'm Brelda, owner of this establishment. What can I do for you folks?"

Willa chuckled. "_You_are the boss of all those huge creatures?"

Brelda just smirked. "Our 'attractions' have their own, useful skills, but administration isn't one of them. The more imposing creatures never seem to have a knack for nuance or legalese. I keep them well compensated and reap the profits."

"Excuse my sister," I said, narrowing my eyes at the goblin. "I am Ulalia, and this is Willa. By 'well compensated', do you mean 'well fed'? Or do they get a share of the earnings?"

Brelda stood. "That's the brilliance. Only Wuleimon asks for a cut of the money. The rest work for creative compensation."

"Do these 'employee benefits' include a steady supply of victims?" I asked, not appreciating Brelda's tone at all.

"Ha!" she gasped. "No victims at all. Surely you realize this establishment works well within the law. Any sustenance my employees derive from their clients is one-hundred percent consensual, I assure you."

Willa seemed as uninterested as usual in the investigative side of my occupation, scanning the wall of bright lights as I replied, "You're telling me that enough clients_willingly_ choose to be digested that you have four_creatures on your staff willing to work for _free?"

Brelda paced along the wall of lights, waving her hand. "And we have all the evidence we need to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt. Though I think you underestimate just how much our 'attractions' enjoy their work. It's not all about food, you know."

"We're talking about people, Brelda. Like Loruncai? The centaur was at his Bachelor party. Now, why would someone about to marry the woman of his dreams decide to end the night in a naga's belly?"

"You'd have to ask him," she laughed. "Perhaps the bride-to-be was not all she was cracked up to be!"

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