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"Is that all?" Inga growled.

"I can get my dagger and start stabbing you as we fuck," said the muscular man behind her. "But otherwise, yes. Yes it is."

To his credit Mathis did his best. He even bit her nape hard enough to sting with his flat human teeth as they mated, and for a human he was well endowed. She couldn't really complain about the sex. It was just that sometimes she needed more than a human could give her.

"Oh,well," Inga growled, and let her elbows bend so her breasts pressed against the bed. She kept her rump up, though, "Go ahead and finish, dear. I don't blame you. You're the best human I've ever had. It's just..."

But Mathis didn't finish. With no need to hold back on her account he could have got himself off with another minute of thrusting. Instead he stroked the dense fur of her back. It seemed that if he couldn't bring her to passion he was satisfied just to cuddle.

Inga twisted at the waist, rolling over in bed without making him pull out. When they were belly to belly and his balls sank into the coarse fur of her tail she studied the muscular man. He was well over six feet tall and probably weighed as much as she did, which meant a bit over three hundred pounds. She was certainly stronger. Of the Maker's people her species, the gul wolverine-folk, were by far the biggest and pound for pound she was simply stronger than a man her size.

Scars and tattoos covered his powerful naked body and shallow, bleeding scratches were on each side of his chest where her claws scratched him during their play. For a human he was handsome, at least to her. Strong and tough and willing. Just not bestial enough. Inga hooked her legs around his waist and pulled him close, holding him for a moment nose to nose. He matched her smile.

"I know," he said, and claws or not his hands felt good on her breasts. "Not violent enough. Are you going to eat me out of disappointment?'

"Don't be ridiculous," Inga growled. "If I ate you there'd be all sorts of awkward questions." They were well known lovers and the two of them had very publicly went up the stairs together to their room, after all. "And I only eat people I don't like. You I like."

"Good to hear," Mathis said, and rubbed her thigh until she eased the grip of her legs. "I'd rather go on a long caravan ride with you than take a short trip through your guts."

Mathis had seen her swallow people and was well aware that she was a 'gulper', one of the Maker's people who by the blessing of the wizard could swallow and digest whole prey. He'd put up a hell of a fight but they both knew that if she went after him now she'd eventually bolt him down. But it'd he hard to explain why two people went into her room and a she-wolverine with a fat belly came out. The rules were different in town than on the road and even on the road Inga didn't eat people without good reason.

It wasn't the first time they'd ended up in bed together and it wouldn't be the last. She really did like him and at no point did she consider swallowing the man.

"I knew I should have kept the paws from the bear we killed last caravan," she mused. "I could have had gloves made out of them and then you'd have claws."

"Inga, what you need is someone big and strong to give it you," Mathis said. "And someone with claws and fangs. What about a khardaki?"

The lion people were as tall as gul, though less massive. There were also the hestan cat-people, who were about human sized. "Oh, I've been with them. They're OK. Not really what I am after, though."

"How about a badger?"

Inga chuckled. "It would have to be a very big badger."

"He is. Big as you and me together, or thereabouts. Popular with the ladies, too. A barmaid at the bar he works at has a love bite scar on her neck."

"A bite scar..." Inga said dreamily. "Tell me more."

Mathis wriggled free of her thighs, helped by the fact that she let him, and lay on his side facing her. "Here's what I know and it isn't much. He's a big feral badger who can talk. Walks around on all fours but I saw him sitting up in a booth holding a mug, so I guess he has hands. Very polite and very nice but they say not to piss him off because he also works for the city guard. Pulls people down, takes their weapons away and then he sometimes swallows them alive. Or just arrests them."

Inga considered. "And popular with the ladies you say."

"This is just a rumor. I hear he is very careful and gentle but very well hung."

"He's very careful because he'd tear them apart if he wasn't. I bet he longs for someone tougher to play with." Inga smiled. "I will have to go say hello."

"Good," Mathis said, and he didn't resist when her furry hand pushed his face down between her thighs. He might not have claws and his tongue was short but he knew what to do with what he had. It only took a nudge to get him to straddle her face as he licked.

Inga could swallow Mathis whole. She swallowed eight inches of him with no difficulty whatsoever.

The next evening, after checking the caravansary for jobs (there was a caravan coming through later this week that might be hiring, and some miscellaneous jobs in town she'd look into) she made her way to a bar. Mathis said it was called the Cracked Flask. Maybe it was owned by an alchemist?

Sure enough, there was the sign - an alchemical flask shooting a stream of something drinkable into a nearby mug. Some minor magic made the liquid dance in the air and slosh in the mug. Inga stopped to stare at the sign and absentmindedly broke a pickpocket's wrist when she felt the hand slide toward her coin purse. She let the cursing man go. In other circumstances this encounter would end in a burp but not here in town and definitely not when she had plans for the evening other than digesting some petty thug.

Inga pushed through the door and found a typically dimly lit room with booths, tables, a bar and a small stage. An assortment of races populated the place, but all lacked fur save for the lone praka minstrel picking out a tune on a lute with clawed fingers. He was a cute little thing and raccoon folk could be ambitious and entertaining in bed but she had eyes only for the big badger stretched out below the stage. She would think it a taxidermy ornament if she hadn't expected it and hadn't seen it turn its head to look her over as she entered.

He was as big as advertised, seven or more feet from nose to tail and weighing maybe as much as three men. Long flank fur spread out around him, making him look almost like a rug. The dark eyes in his black and cream muzzle were alert, though. They paused on her for a moment.

Inga stood six feet, three inches tall, a stocky, muscular woman with dark fur broken by white blotches at her neck and broad brown-gold stripes running from each armpit to the root of her short, thick furry tail. Sharp white claws stood out from her huge hands and toes, exposed by strapped leather sandals. Her head was entirely feral, sharp muzzled and broad. An anthropomorphic wolverine, her bite could crush bones.

She wore her city garb, a leather harness and skirt that in deference to human modesty covered her breast and groin. Her breasts were small and flat in the absence of nursing milk but her broad hips made her gender impossible to miss. Some gul were fully feral, some semi-anthro with arms and legs of equal length. She was built more like a stocky, powerful human woman with fur, claws, tail and a wolverine head.

The badger's gaze moved on as she slid into a chair. His furry ears swiveled as he kept track of conversations and his eyes roamed the room, looking for any trouble that might develop. He might be a furry rug of a feral badger but this was without doubt a bouncer, just one less humanoid than the partly armored man at the door.

Inga was only in the seat for a few seconds when a barmaid stopped by. The woman's leather vest covered her ample breasts but left scarred, muscular arms exposed. Inga's eyes went at once to the woman's neck. Revealed by the short hair was a double white scar like a vampire's bite - either from the top or the bottom canine fangs of something about the badger's size. Presumably the other two fang marks were on the back of her neck. Inga sniffed.

To a gul the world is a tapestry of scents. She could smell ale, food, a whiff from the bathrooms, half a dozen species of humanoids, the badger by the stage (definitely male), and the (probably) half-orc barmaid. The barmaid raised an eyebrow as Inga leaned closer for a better sniff. Inga nodded. There was an old saying. No one knew where it originated, or from what species. 'Lovers have only one scent.' There was only one way the barmaid could be so covered with the badger's musk.

Inga put a gold Wheel on the table. "An ale."

"That will buy you a hundred ales," the barmaid said.

Inga's fangs showed as she grinned. "Then tell me about him."

"Ahhh." The barmaid glanced around to make sure no one was holding up a mug for a refill, then slid into the seat opposite Inga. "Someone wants to be badgered."

"You're damn right," Inga growled. "I'm a long way from the Maker's lands. Do you know how long it's been since I had a good scruffing?"

The barmaid smiled and rubbed the bite marks on her neck. Inga saw that the badger's cup-shaped ears were locked onto them. The barmaid shot the feral an amused glance. Both woman knew he could hear them. Neither lowered her voice.

"I've been with a gul male or two," the barmaid said. "He's easily as large. Very strong, lots of endurance. Very gentle, when he's with a frail widdle human woman...." She touched the scar on the side of her neck. "Less so when you don't want him to be."

"I want him," Inga growled, "To drag me around by my scruff and pin me under his claws until I submit, then take me. I want him to test the toughness of my hide. I want to limp out of my room in the morning."

The little praka musician on the stage missed a note. His ears were locked on them too. The badger snorted a laugh at the musician's shock but he was wide-eyed in surprise himself. Someone threw a bone at the raccoon, who grinned and plucked vigorously at the lute strings. It was a well known bar song about a foxtaur (or rather, -the- foxtaur, as there was only one as far as anyone knew) and his entirely inappropriate lovers.

It had only grown more popular in the last year when a magical recording of the massive fox ejaculating all over two hestan women surfaced. Most people had assumed he was just a folktale. That had added a verse to the song and the fox's new popularity meant the song was played even more than before.

Praka couldn't speak Common. They were the first of the Maker's races and the wizard neglected that aspect. Inga flicked an ear in surprise when the raccoon began to sing, in Common! He must have some magic item, modification or talent that let him do so.

The verses of The Tale Of The Lonely Fox could be sung in any order. He started with one about the foxtaur and a big, horny she-badger. Inga smiled. So did the barmaid. So did the badger.

"He gets off shift soon," the barmaid said. "But he works tomorrow. He'd only have an hour or so to share. Don't keep him up all night. He has responsibilities."

"An hour," Inga growled, "Is a start. I'll take what I can get."

The barmaid slid the coin into a pouch. "This pays for your ale, dinner if you want it, and a week's rent of a room. I'll bring you the key. It's up to you and Bartleby," she inclined her head toward the badger. "How much of the time in your room you spend alone."

Very ate sparingly of the inn's fare, one ale and some meat and potatoes, before a new face arrived at the door. The swarthy man in a chainmail vest nodded to the badger and the feral rose on legs thick and muscular as a big man's thighs. Iron bracers protected his forelegs and Inga saw inconspicuous earrings hiding in his ear-fur.

The closer ear swiveled to face her as Inga spoke, not bothering to raise her voice. "I have a room. I want very much for you to share it. Smelling your musk makes me wet." The badger nodded. He could smell her, too. "I'll pay you if that's what it takes."

When she went up the stairs he waited just long enough for there to be some doubt he was following, then padded up as well. His long claws clicked on the wood and the praka musician grinned as he started a third verse of the song. Half the people in the inn knew what was about to happen. No matter how casually he did it, when Bart followed a woman to her room she was about to get badgered.

As they reached the upstairs landing the badger picked up the pace and as Inga opened the door to her room a long nose slid up under her shirt, showing he both recognized and returned her interest. Inga went wide-eyed as a tongue tasted her and slammed the door half playfully, half seriously. The badger proved unexpectedly nimble and slipped through the closing door, losing only a few hairs from his stubby but well furred tail.

Having heard from two people how gentle he was Inga had worried she might have to convince him to be otherwise. She needn't have. There wasn't much space to back away from the big badger and before she could even try a powerful forepaw swept her legs out from under her. A feral or semi-feral gul would twist to land on all fours and she landed just as neatly on hands and knees with a badger's powerful forepaw already hooking her under him and his fangs questing for her scruff.

Her sharp white claws dug furrows in the wooden floorboards as he dragged her onto the bed, his sheath stiff as an iron bar against her thigh. He paused just long enough for her to speak, and when she instead growled he mounted her without further ado. Inga's growl turned into a whine as the badger proved just how well endowed he was, sliding into her until he hit bottom. He was at least as well hung as a big male gul and he wasted no time, letting out a rhythmic growl of his own as he began to hump.

He had her pinned beneath his chest, his fangs in her scruff and one powerful, long clawed paw snugged under her to trap her against him. She was exactly where she wanted to be but even if she weren't he had her pinned. Someone was banging on the wall of the room, complaining about the increasing volume of their mutual snarls and the creak of the over-strained bed. That didn't stop her thrusting back against the badger and he didn't pause for an instant in his rut.

The tough woolen blanket tore beneath her claws, a fraction the length of the badger's but sharper. More than a foot of thick badger cock pistoned into her as he showed how much he approved of a lover he could actually be atop for once, instead of sprawled on his back as a frail human woman struggled to fit more than half of him into her. His scent filled Inga's nostrils, a rank animal musk much like her own wolverine odor.

Inga hadn't been so horny since she was a teenager and bucked on the bed until the weight of the humping badger added to her own movements and the wooden frame snapped. With a splintery crash the bed gave up the ghost and became a straw mattress on a pile of tinder. Even then they didn't stop. His furry balls bounced off her mound as he managed to fit the last inch into her and Inga let out a whine of pain and building lust. Half instinctively she twisted her head and bit his foreleg just above the iron bracer.

A badger's hide is tough but she bit down hard and felt him tense at the pain. His response was to tug at her scruff until she had to let go. In the glow of a building orgasm Inga saw his muzzle hook down, then the flash of fangs. Before she knew what was happening his jaws closed around her skull and all went dark.

Inga went rigid with shock even as his forepaw squeezed her against her chest. Slimy throat slithered up over her muzzle as he worked his jaws over her neck and the inward pressure of his gullet was already too strong for her to open her own jaws to bite.

He had her! He'd never stopped humping and now the force of his thrusts communicated itself up her spine, forcing her into his maw. Already his jaws were stretching over her shoulders and soon she would be unable to fight at all. Her visit with the badger led to him totally possessing her. He would spend himself in her sex and shortly thereafter the last of her would make its way down his throat.

She'd planned to spend the night in a badger's bed but would lie instead in his stomach. He was doing to her what she'd done to a dozen men and twice that many humanoids and monsters and she was as helpless to stop him as all those long since digested prey.

Maybe it was the sudden fear. Maybe it was being utterly, completely dominated. Maybe it was the lack of air as she was swallowed alive. All Inga knew was the blinding climax that washed over her even as she was eaten. She shuddered, tensed, and snarled into has throat as she came and a moment later the badger followed her into orgasm. With a last few shuddering thrusts he filled her with his seed. At least the neighbors had less to complain about now. Inga's cries were muffled my a badger's throat and his maw was too full of food to snarl his own passion.

There was a pause as each recovered from their lust. Though a moment before she was sure he would swallow her, it somehow did not surprise Inga when the badger's jaws relaxed and he pulled back his head. Strings of saliva gummed her eyes shut as the light hit them once again and Inga let out a long growl of contentment as he began to lick the drool off her fur. He could have had her. Had he continued he'd have gotten scratched up but it would all have ended with a fat-bellied badger letting out a great belch and settling down to digest his meal.

"Too much?" They were the first words she heard him speak and it didn't surprise her to hear the growl his fangs and muzzle lent to his speech. It was not so different from her own growl. If he'd ever been a normal giant badger, he'd since been modified in several ways. Intellect, speech, the opposable thumbs on his long-clawed forepaws and of course the fact he could swallow a gul three-fifths his weight whole.

"I should be angry at you," Inga growled. "I am not." She hadn't had an orgasm like that since...well, maybe ever. "Do you often pretend to swallow your lovers?"

"No, not often." The big badger rolled onto his side, finally pulling out as his bone-stiffened cock lost its swelling and slid back into its sheath. His warm, furry body curled around her almost like a blanket. "Normally, when someone's head ends up in my mouth the rest of them follows it in. It's the same with you, I expect."

"How do you know I'm a gulper? Wait, silly question. You're in the town guard."

"That's right." He nuzzled her behind the ear. "You've done us a favor or two by disposing of problems. Sometimes a stomach is the best jail." He sniffed. "I smell human on you. Your friend the fellow caravan guard?"

"I smell several humans on you, badger. And other species. We both take what lovers are available."

He chuckled. "Fair enough. Now, I have to work in the morning. Much as I'd like to draw this out..."

"Not even one more?"

"Maybe if we're up early we can wake our neighbors. Another rumor about my prowess can't hurt."

Inga grinned. He'd humped her into exhaustion anyway. The two of them curled up on the ruins of the bed, mutually sated and tired by a long day and vigorous mating.

The next morning, sure enough, they woke and completed the destruction of the bed. By the time they finished, the mattress was as torn apart as the frame. Inga reminded herself to pay for repairs. There was no reason her new friend the badger should do so when she started it all by insisting he be rough.

She'd wanted to limp out of her room in the morning. She did. Her face-fur was still matted from having her head down a badger's throat and then licked clean, her scruff hurt from two vigorous scruffings, and only her tough hide kept the many scratches from bleeding. She'd done her best to return the favor and she was sure he was sore, too. One of his ears had a visible notch from an enthusiastic love bite and the black pad of his nose sported a new scratch.

"Next time," she growled as the patted Bart on the head, "Maybe your head will be in my mouth."

"Maybe," he grinned as he pulled on a leather harness with a guard insignia. Feral or not he needed a uniform. She saw the snaps where the armor must attach. "Maybe I'll be digesting someone and you'll have to be on top."

"Maybe I will be full," Inga growled, "And you'll have to probe in and make sure he's really dead."

With that she was out the door. She ate at the bar, told the barmaid to use the balance of her gold piece to repair the furniture in her room, then found Mathis at the caravansary. He was out in the courtyard under the tree, his favorite spot.

He looked her over with a smile. "Someone looks tired and sore."

"Oh yes," Inga groaned as she flopped down next to him. "No offense, but that was something special."

His hand slid down her neck as he felt her matted fur and the pinpoints of blood where the badger's fangs had dug in. Inga groaned as his fingers worked. He knew all about massage and for once not having claws was an advantage.

"Have I lost my lover to a horny badger, then?"

"No, dear." Inga rested her cheek on his muscular shoulder. "That's an itch I only need scratched so often. Plus, I can't monopolize the badger's time. He was two jobs and other lovers. Once in a while, yes. The rest of the time..."

"The rest of the time," Mathis said, and pulled a canvas bag out from under the bench, "There's me."

Inga's eyes widened as she saw the brown fur poking out of the bag. Mathis pulled out a bulky glove clearly made from a bear paw. It still had the rough pawpads and curved black claws.

"You saved them! You smart-smooth skin you!"

Besides the gloves, there was some sort of collar or harness with a row of spikes made from the fangs of some animal. Inga wasn't even sure what part of a body it was meant to fit around. "What's this for?"

"You'll find out."

"There's another thing," he went on. "The guard is hiring mercenaries for part-time work. I put our names in and since they know us already they are willing to hire us whenever we're between caravans. That'll keep us busy and It'll give you a chance to work with your new badger friend instead of only having him on top of you."

Inga was taken aback. "You're not worried you'll lose me?"

"Of course I'm worried," Mathis said. His hand went to the back of her neck to knead the strong muscles again. "I want to be with you. But I want you to be happy. We'll be together most of the time on caravans but when we come here I know you'll seek him out. You ought to get to know him as a person, not just the big badger who drags you around by your scruff."

"Oh, you are a dear." Inga passed him the fanged harness. Show me how you wear this, if you can do it in public."

With a motion sure enough he must have put it on before, the muscular man buckled it on. It turned out to fit on his face almost like a muzzle. The result was a row of fangs projecting from his chin in an arc. He grinned and leaned over to dig them into her shoulder fur. There was only one set, but it still felt like someone nipping her.

"Mm. You know, I'm very tired."

"I know. I'll leave you be until you've recovered."

"I'm not that tired." Inga stood, dragging him to his feet. "We'll make a proper gul of you yet, Mathis. Claws and fangs! All you need is a bit more...you know."

"I do," he said as the door to their room clicked shut behind them. Only then did he show her the assortment of items at the bottom of the bag.

All he lacked at this point was a gul's formidable cock. And what do you know, he'd found a solution to that problem too.