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Deborah met the cheetah girl at the volleyball net, joining the game when a girl on the other team had to go. It was one man and one woman on each team and now one of the four was furry. At first she thought Callie was a trim athletic girl in a really good, close fitting furry suit. (You meet some weird people on a beach, especially this beach.) That wasn't the case. From padded feet to twitching tail to whiskery muzzle Callie was all cheetah.

One-quarter cheetah, Deborah would learn later. That explained her mostly humanoid build. First generation hybrids like the half-sea lion lifeguard here at the friendly beach looked like, and were, a compromise between feral beast and human. Callie could be mistaken for an actual woman in a suit if you missed her digitigrade legs.

Callie the cheetah girl was very popular. The men playing volleyball made it very clear that they'd be happy to buy her lunch, walk with her on the beach or (they dearly hoped) take her into the shadows under the pier and "visit". Instead it was Deborah.

"It has its advantages," Callie said of her anthropomorphic nature. She found a rock that lacked the usual coating of mussels, sat, and hooked one ankle behind her head. Deborah watched with amazement and not a little envy as the cheetah leaned easily down over herself and began to lick. Manicured and red-polished claws pulled the polka-dot bikini bottom down and a raspy feline tongue slid over furry cheetah pussy.

Deborah thought of herself as straight but watching that happen aroused her curiosity and Callie was happy to educate her. The cheetah had a hidey-hole back among the rocks with beach blankets and bottles of beer, among other things, and half an hour after they got there Deborah was lying on her belly, beer in hand, and gritting her teeth in almost-pain as a sandpaper tongue explored not a feline but instead a human pussy.

Deborah was unshaven down there and her last boyfriend complained about that. Callie didn't. Naturally furred and prone to groom herself with her tongue, she licked Deborah's mound until its hair glistened with saliva, then spread the slit with careful padded fingers and licked deeper.

When that raspy tongue was done Deborah had dropped her beer and lay half asleep, exhausted by a series of orgasms and the skillful massage of padded cheetah hands. She only smiled and groaned as that raspy tongue touched her elsewhere. Ass, thigh, calves, feet. Deborah sleepily rubbed her breasts and didn't even notice when her feet slipped into Callie's mouth.

Ever so delicately the cheetah parted her muzzle, lifted Deborah's feet and engulfed them. The slide of gullet over tanned skin was a new sensation but Deborah was too sleepy to notice and Callie carefully kept her fangs from dragging. A bulge swelled out of her slender neck as she performed a heroic act of deep throat, swallowing Deborah's feet and calves as easily as she'd swallowed orca cock.

In the peaceful shadows of the pier, alone with someone she trusted but shouldn't, Deborah didn't even react when with a well practiced arch of her body the cheetah managed to bend her at the knees. That she could do this to a set of human legs when they were down her throat showed amazing internal flexibility. The first tingle of stomach acids didn't wake Deborah either and with the same gentleness Callie gaped her muzzle wider still.

Swallowing a human whole without the human even realizing what is happening is a challenging endeavor but she worked her maw over Deborah's tanned ass with nary a fang scrape. For a moment Deborah, halfway down a cheetah gullet, tensed and seemed about to realize what was happening, but then Callie's sandpaper tongue slid over her pussy once more. The cheetah licked until Deborah moaned, and in the afterglow of the orgasm she gently guided the woman's hands downward.

When Deborah did finally stir, half-woken by the movement as Callie leaned back, she was to down the cheetah's throat to the breasts and her arms were trapped against her sides by the slimy flesh of a feline gullet. Callie had managed to swallow three-quarters of her before a fang finally caught and the scrape of a sharp canine over her boob finally roused Deborah to protest.

She opened her eyes to sleepily protest and experienced a strange sinking sensation as the cheetah sat the rest of the way up. Slick gullet offers almost no resistance and her own weight slid more of her in. By the time she was fully awake the stretched jaws with their carefully gentle fangs were around her shoulders from below and her breasts were a double bulge making their way through spotty cheetah neckfur.

There was a moment of wide-eyed astonishment before Deborah concluded, very reasonably, that she was dreaming. Callie's jaws slipped up around her face from below just as they had taken in legs and ass and boobs, and as they closed in front of her the light was slowly cut off. Deborah looked out at the pier-pilings, smiled, and didn't scream. It was still not too late to protest, not too late for Callie to cough her back up.

And then it was too late. The last light was cut off as the cheetah's jaws closed, a sandpaper tongue gathered itself beneath her chin and Callie swallowed. Deborah felt the bulge of her face move through pale spotty neckfur as she slid down Callie's throat into the waiting stomach.

It was such a strangely gentle process that it was not until she was curled up inside the cheetah and felt the growing tingle of digestion that Deborah began to worry. It was just a dream, right? But the hot darkness was getting less comfortable by the second as thick droplets of stomach acid trickled down the fleshy walls to join the pool accumulating at the bottom. There was no room to move. She was as large as the cheetah and the flesh and furry pelt was stretched skin-tight over her. The vast bulge in Callie's middle shifted as Deborah finally woke.

She came fully awake at last and sucked in a breath to scream. The breath was the most of the available air and as she tensed to struggle, suddenly all too aware of what had happened and what would happen next, the hands wrapped around that distended furry belly pressed in.

Deborah gasped out that one breath as the cheetah cleverly pressed right where she knew Deborah was most sensitive, and the breath and all the other air left in a rush. She heard the cat-woman let out a long, satisfied belch, and managed maybe two kicks of protest before the gurgling dark closed in.

The dream ended in darkness. Then blinding light. Deborah gasped, sat up and shielded her eyes from the light. She was sitting on sand, but not under the pier.

Mercifully something moved to block the light. A long shadow fell over her and she blinked away tears. The sudden transition from the darkness of a hot gut to direct sunlight was too much. Even in the shadow of whatever blocked the light it took her a minute to recover.

"Oh, hey," said a purring voice deeper than Callie's. "Right on time, dude. Usually takes about an hour."

Deborah's eyes recovered enough to see the webbed hand with brown fur and claws in front of her. It held her bikini top and bottom, last seen when Callie's skillful fingers peeled off to get them out of the way of her tongue.

She realized with a start that she was naked and blushed furiously as she pulled her skimpy outfit back on. The furry hand belonged to a tall semi-humanoid otter, with short legs and long body. There were only three hybrids on the beach and this was the third of them. They hadn't met but she'd heard of him and Beachcomber the otter whistled and looked away as she put her bikini on, then handed her the fanny pack she carried her phone and money in.

All the while he stayed between her and the sun. They were in a little sandy nook near the boardwalk, with seashore bushes on one side and a wooden box that said CLOTHES on one side and CLOTHING on another. It was next to some rocks and once her bikini was back on and her eyes had adjusted the otter plopped his butt down on a rock. She realized he'd stood where he had not only to block the sun but also to keep anyone on the boardwalk from seeing her naked.

He had the same short legged, long bodied look as the half-sea lion lifeguard and was a lot less humanoid than Callie. A blue speedo covered him from groin to neck with the word NOT A PENIS on the chest and an arrow pointed up. Below that was another PENIS and an arrow pointed down to a long bulge in the speedo.

He saw he looking and laughed. "Yeah, man, it's stupid. Someone said 'You're shaped like a dick' and then there was this bet and, yeah." He shrugged, a strangely feral movement as his streamlined body didn't really sport shoulders.

He was kind of shaped like one. Standing with his feet angled out his short, muscular legs and long tube body could be a giant set of balls and erect dick in silhouette. His ruddery tail spoiled the illusion but it easily hid behind him when he faced you.

He looked at the smart watch on his right wrist and nodded. "I gotta go soon. Tide's coming in and I'm meeting some friends to surf. Sunset, man. Can't miss it."

He looked at her. With his long whiskers and round furry face he was really cute, but Deborah was still trying to figure out what had just happened. Then he told her.

"My girlfriend Callie asked me to come by with your clothes and thank you," the otter purred. "She gets super hungry playing volleyball. She really appreciated you letting her eat you."

Deborah was just then trying to get her hair under control - it was long, brown and wavy and the otter hadn't brought her scrunchie by with her clothes.

She froze. The otter saw her eyes widen and held his webby hands up.

"Whoa man, what's the matter?"

"She ate me? I thought it was a dream!"

The otter blinked at her and stood up. He was head and shoulders taller than she was but he leaned back so he wouldn't loom over her.

"A dream? What, were you drunk?"

"Only a little. We sort of, well, I was half asleep after," the otter tilted his head to the side like an inquisitive dog. "I think she swallowed me feet first and I didn't realize what was happening. I didn't wake all the way up until I was in her stomach."

"Oh, man." The otter slapped a webby hand against his cheek. "I can't believe she did that."

"I know! I mean, she just-"

"Man," the otter groaned. "I've been trying to do that for like a year and they always wake up and see what's going on. She tries one time and down you go. I'm never gonna hear the end of it."

He was making little gestures with his finger claws as he mumbled. Shocked at this odd reaction, Deborah let him go on.

"How did she keep her teeth from waking you up? I just don't get it," the otter mumbled. "All the way down and you didn't know what was happening."

He looked her up and down. "You got a nice ass and rack, man. I don't know if I could get over your butt without scratching you with a tooth and I'm twice her size. Man, she's got talent. You sure you weren't just playing along?"

The anger that had built up with each word burst out of Deborah and she thumped her palms into the otter's chest. The thick tail hanging down like the third leg of a tripod absorbed the impact so he barely moved but his eyes went wide.

"What, you want to eat me too?" Deborah snapped. "Is that what this is? You and the cheetah are murder partners?"

"No man," the otter mumbled. "Not unless you want me to. Some people are into it. I eat Callie like once a week, she climbs right into my mouth. And it's not murder here."

He gestured up toward the boardwalk. "If we weren't here she wouldn't have eaten you, man. If we weren't here I wouldn't eat people. Well, unless they were assholes. Killing people is uncool, man. But here," he gestures at the beach again. "Some people are into it. People feed themselves to the animals or to me, Callie, Jeff. It's all cool, they reform here."

He points at the CLOTHES box. "They don't usually get their stuff back so the beach patrol keeps this full of thrift store stuff. I mean, I save their clothes for them, Callie does too but you stick your head in a dolphin's mouth, you better have planned what you're gonna wear afterward."

"So it's okay to kill people as long as they come back?"

"Look man," the otter said defensively. "If you'd told her to stop she would have. She could have asked me to lie and say you just got drunk and passed out. She likes you, she said you're really tasty. She's into eating people, and being eaten. It's her thing. Me and Jeff, we mostly just do it for the sex, man."

"Where is she now?"

"Don't know," the otter purred. "Big meals are a lot of work to digest. Sleeping somewhere, probably. Come by the beach in a couple of days, she'll be around."

And so Deborah got in her car and drove away, but a couple of days later she was back. Sure enough, Callie was at the volleyball net, now with noticeable love handles and some belly fat. She was still working off a meal as big as she was. With the number of calories she burned on the beach, it wouldn't be long before she was trim again. Then, presumably, she'd lure someone else into the shadow of the pier.

The cheetah spotted her and waved to a girl on the sideline to take her place. She padded over to Deborah, new belly fat jiggling. She must weigh twenty pounds more than when they met. Digesting a meal your own size really packs on the pounds.

"I hope you're not too mad," the cheetah purred. "I've had this bet going with my boyfriend. And I won." Her grin was sharp-toothed.

Deborah led her over to the shade of the pier, but still in sight of the volleyball players. She found a rock free of mussels and the cheetah sat on another.

"The animals don't have rules," Callie purred. "Except to be friendly. They will still eat people, but most of them are just here for the sex."

She gestured at the lifeguard tower where the sea lion had his usual post and off into the waves, where a long brown noodle of a figure rode a surfboard. "Jeff and my boyfriend are mostly here for the sex too. Well, and the job for Jeff of course. They could do the job or surf just as well at any friendly beach, and get just as much sex."

She leaned over and gave Deborah's shoulder a raspy lick."But only at this beach would I creep up on you and win the bet. I wouldn't have done it anywhere else. Well, not unless you were an asshole."

"That's what Beachcomber said. He said killing people is uncool."

They watched the volleyball players for a few minutes. Eventually Deborah spoke again.

"I'm still kind of mad at you," she said. "I trusted you."

"The lesson to be learned," Callie said, with the air of one repeating a catchphrase, "Is that yes, this is a friendly beach. But people will take advantage of you just the same."

She reached into her fanny pack with clawed fingers and handed Deborah the hair scrunchie she'd had been wearing when she disappeared down a cheetah gullet. There were a few strands of hair clinging to it still and they and the scrunchie were oddly discolored. Both had survived the stomach acids, though the hair was thin and brittle. Deborah didn't ask how Callie got it back. There were only two possibilities, really.

When she saw that Deborah was watching, the cheetah kneaded the furry belly fat she'd gained when they first met.. Slowly her raspy cheetah tongue made a circuit of her chops, and her smile was smug and predatory.

"You tasted good," she said without words, and Deborah wasn't sure if she was sexy or horrible. Maybe a little of both.