FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Makuta's first real feeling of warmth in days came when he spotted the town of Seliana over the canopy of trees. He had hiked a small hill for a vantage point over the forest and scanned the horizon out in front of him. There to the northeast was a jagged massif which rose from the forested earth abruptly, ending the seemingly infinite ocean of trees and plain. He could barely see it through the dark night, rendered all the more murky by the blanket of storm clouds in the sky. Nevertheless, his orange eyes lit up at the sight of a dull glow emanating from the core of the massif, the unmistakable sign of civilization. He set out for it immediately. The warmth of an inn's fireplace against his frostbitten cheeks was everything he needed, that and a steaming hot meal. But first he had to get there, and just like every other leg of his journey so far, it wasn't going to be easy.

Makuta was an adept hunter who practiced his trade in the dead of winter, the product of which was blanketed across the landscape for as long as it reached. He had packed heavily for the venture, wearing several layers of heavy wool which protected his thin layer of feline fur from the deathly cold. His outfit swelled over his body, making his slender form look much broader than it was. Every part of him was covered, up from his head and down to his boots. Even his cat tail was wrapped up to its very tip. The only part of him that was exposed to the harsh elements was a visor gap in the scarves which coiled around his head, exposing his dark blue fur and orange eyes. On his back was an enormous pack laden with camp gear, hunting equipment which included his bow and quiver full of arrows, several buckskins that had been tied into rolls, and a sack completely loaded with salted meat. For two weeks he had lugged that burden across the woods, battling the cold and the many desperate animals he had come across. He made good work, but now was a good time to take a break. With the town finally in his sights, he bore the cold for the last few hours so that he could finally have a place to eat and sleep safely.

Three hours of arduous hiking passed. The wind howled by him and the snow crunched around his boots. He didn't stop, nor would he until he had found a place to eat and sleep. Finally, like a prisoner listening to his bars slam open for the very last time, he saw the light of the settlement breach the trees in front of him. Exhaustion soaked him down to the bone, but the dull orange light reflecting in his eyes blessed him with a solid bout of energy. He made the last hump up into the massif, breached the treeline, and finally got his first look at the town of Seliana. It was a small settlement, home to no more than 300 folk. Much of it hugged the bare mountain side, protected on three sides from their faces. Enormous homes with pointed roofs sat in a circle around the town square. He could see empty merchant stalls and houses with their windows shuddered closed. The only lights emanating from the seemingly lifeless town were the two bonfires lit next to the main entrance as well as what Makuta prayed to be an inn or a restaurant. It wasn't much, but to Makuta it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He hiked himself free of the woods and passed through the entrance. A sign that read "Seliana" stood nearby. It was almost illegible thanks to the thick layer of frost that clung to it. Whoever had painted it had taken great care to make it look welcoming. On any other day, Makuta wouldn't have thought so, but coming out of the journey he just had, it may as well have been the welcome mat to his own home. He kept his eyes on the single hut whose lights remained on. It had a pointed tarp for a roof. The front section was wide open, showing off the building's wares. Inside he could see a massive cauldron sitting above a slowly burning fire pit. Next to it, on a lower level was a bench for eating. Behind it was someone placidly going about their business. Most importantly, he smelt the heavenly aroma of meat radiating out to him, gurgling his stomach and beckoning him forward.

He wasted no time. He marched into the establishment, finally free from the elements. Standing in the blissfully warm hut while wearing snow-crusted clothing made him feel out of place. He pulled his hat off and the bandanas beneath them. His dark blue ears stood free and flicked around. He peeled his scarf off and took a deep breath, first through his mouth, then through his nose. The enormous stew simmering in the cauldron billowed steam which flooded his lungs. His mouth watered and his tummy grumbled its protest. He continued his way to the bench, more than ready to take a load off. Watching him from behind the bench was an elderly cat woman, scrubbing a bowl with a rag. She was a round, portly woman whose stomach girth came close to her height. She was dressed almost as warmly as he was, covering everything but her matronly face. Perched on her whiskery nose was a small pair of glasses. Her eyes were squinted almost shut. Her fur was gray with white cheeks. The red scarf headdress she wore around her head was pointed around her ears. She smiled patiently at the visiting hunter while she continued to polish her bowl. "Why hello there, stranger. Who might you be?"

Makuta plopped down on the bench and let loose a very tired sigh. "Ahhhh... I'm Makuta, I'm a hunter. I've come here looking for some food and a place to lay my head for a few nights."

"A hunter? Why, I wouldn't have guessed from what you were carrying." She put the bowl down. "You've come to the right place, my dear. Please, take your coats off and let me take care of them for you." He didn't have to be told twice. He started by kicking off his boots and flexing his toes. He took off the top layer, then the next one, then the next one, then the next one. Finally his full form was on display, turning him from a hulking behemoth of cloth to a lithe and wiry feline whose dark blue fur was now covered by only a wrapping around his midriff, some shorts, and the puttees around his ankles. The warmth fell on his fur like a vacuum being filled. Shivers rolled up his spine and made his fur stand on ends. He did an enormous stretch, throwing his arms into the air into a giant V and letting his tail flail out behind him. He peeled his lips off of his gums and yawned, revealing his sharp white teeth. Finally he relaxed, so incredibly relieved to have some heat, some food, and some company. The woman came around the bench and collected his discarded clothes. "I'll put these in your room for you. I'm assuming you have the coin."

He patted his bag on the floor behind him. "I'll have more than enough."

She smiled. "I'm teasing darling. You just relax. I'll be back to cook you something shortly."

He thanked her, and she went off to put his clothes away. She was a sweet woman, the exact kind he needed to be with in order to feel all the more welcome after so many days of nature's hostility. She came back and waltzed back behind the bench, her gray cat tail swaying behind her gaily. "So, what can I get you darling?"

His stomach was rumbling too hard to be picky. "Anything, please. Whatever you have that's the most filling. I have the zenny for it."

"I trust you, darling. I'll make you a chef's platter. Just give me a few minutes. For now," She grabbed a small plate of bread and slid it in front of him. "Hold yourself off with this." Just as she turned around to get started on his meal, she heard a rapid scarfing. When she came back, the bread was gone, its only remnants being a constellation of crumbs around Makuta's mouth. The woman got to work on his meal, pulling out a fat slab of meat which she lathered in a decadent coating of buttery sauce. She sang and purred to herself as she sprinkled and rubbed some spices into it, picking the meat up and slapping it back down onto the wooden cutting board in front of her. She carried it to an oven where it simmered on a large pan. From there she prepared a side dish of cheese and potatoes. She hacked away at a throng of crisp vegetables. Onions, carrots, cucumbers, celery, and green beans were all diced into tiny slivers and dumped into a bowl of broth. Soon everything was prepared and cooking on their designated places. Makuta watched it all with rapt fascination. She moved so fluidly, like not a single motion was wasted. He admired her expertise, as well as her chipper attitude and fanciful humming.

"What's your name?" he asked finally.

"You can call me Grammeowster, or just Gram. I run the canteen here in Seliana. I see many strange faces here, not unlike yours. What's your name, hunter?"

"Makuta."

"I'm very glad to have you here, Makuta." Her squinted eyes looked up and down his thin frame. "The other residents of this town will be happy too."

"A welcoming town you have here, especially given the terrain. Are the folk here nice?"

"As nice as they come. Am I not pleasant enough for you?"

"No! I mean, of course you are. I meant no offense."

"And none was taken. I like to poke fun, is all."

Makuta chuckled softly. "I see. It's been too long since I've spoken to anybody. The hunt is lonely, you know."

"I imagine it is in the dead of winter."

Makuta shrugged. "Less competition and the food is much more valuable. I may not be built for the cold, but I know how to survive in it."

"That's good to hear," she said. "Very good."

Only a few more moments of waiting with some idle chatter and the ingredients were done cooking. With a final display of gay flare, Grammeowster swept the meat from its oven and laid it out on a platter where it was joined by the side dishes. She presented it to him at last, bathing his snout in the volcanic column of mouth-watering steam. She rested a fork and a knife next to the platter, one on each flank. She stepped back and took a bow. "Please enjoy."

Makuta wasn't listening. He went straight for the utensils and carved away at the magnificent mountain of meat in front of him. He scarfed morsel after morsel of soft, juicy, bloody beef, chewing and swallowing them as fast as his jaw and throat would allow. He didn't bother savoring it. Each mouthful was like an orgasm of flavor better than anything within recent memory. Pure delight shimmered throughout his saliva-flooded maw, threatening to produce tears of joy. He would alternate between the meat and the side dishes, maintaining a variety of tastes like a small smorgasbord. Since his first pangs of hunger while in the forest, this was what he had imagined, a one-man feast for the ages. Those fantasies grew more vivid and fantastical as time went on, and now here he was living it to the fullest. All of it settled in his belly like a miraculous weight, pinning him to the earth so that he wouldn't float to heaven. Grammeowster watched silently from afar, her hands clasped behind her back patiently. She had a smile on her little face, but behind her amiable expression was keen scrutiny. She watched how quickly he ate, how much, and what he ate the most of. She estimated in her head how full his belly must've been getting. He needed to eat a certain amount before she could go ahead with her plan, but at Makuta's current rate, he was going to eat what she needed him to and then some.

Makuta started to slow down only once the slag of beef was half gone, the side dish was nothing but cheesy smears of fragmented potato, and the bowl of soup was just a bowl. His lips were crusted with juices and his normally flat stomach had bloated noticeably. Finally he had to take a breath and sit back on the bench. He patted his belly. "Whew..." he said, then let loose a very raucous belch which he tried to cover with his fist. "Ahhh... Excuse me."

"You're excused. I'll take it as a sign that I did well."

"You sure did." He stifled another burp. "That was unlike any meal I've had in a very long time. It was everything I hoped it would be. No... it far surpassed that." He sighed. "Thank you very much, Gram."

She bowed her head humbly. "I assure you, a great deal of thanks are mine as well." She stood upright and looked into his eyes. "You did everything I hoped you would."

Even if Makuta had sensed any intent behind that statement, it would've been muddled by the great lethargy that came over him. "Ah, I think I should retire now." He stood up from the bench and stretched his back. "The only thing I've wanted as much as a nice meal like that has been a warm bed to sleep in."

"Oh, you'll get your bed darling, but won't you stay just a little longer?"

"Certainly not to eat, I hope. I'm stuffed."

"Oh no, not at all." Although it would be more than appreciated by me and others. "I merely wish to keep you as company for a while longer. Night is a lonely time for me. I see strangers, but never the folk who live here. If you'd be so kind and spend time with me, I'd more than make it worth your while. I'll even knock a few Zenny off of your cost." She tilted her head sweetly. "What do you say?"

Now that the hunger was gone, Makuta felt nothing but the raw exhaustion that had been plaguing him since his journey had begun. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but here was this adorable old woman all but begging him to pay her just a little more of his company. After the wonderful meal she had given him, how was he supposed to say no? He sat back down. "Of course. It's the least I can do."

Her smile widened. "I'm very happy to hear that. You said you were stuffed. I have something to ease the burden on your stomach, a drink I think you'll like. Care to try?"

The weight in his gut was pretty oppressive. "Please."

"Coming right up." She hummed to herself and danced her cat tail behind her as she fetched a few ingredients from her cabinets and drawers. She grinded them into a paste with a mortar and pestle, threw it into a mixer, poured in some milk, then shook it thoroughly. She poured the concoction into a cup and served it to him. The milk had turned green with floating hunks of herbs in it. "Drink up. You'll love it."

He thanked her and took a sip. To his surprise, it tasted alright. He took a few gulps and set the cup down. Moments later, his stomach started feeling less swollen. "Wow. I think it's working," he marveled.

"I told you so, and the taste?"

"Worth going for more!" He threw his head back and took a few more gulps. It was pretty tasty, and the burden on his stomach continued to wane.

Grammeowster just smiled and watched while she waltzed her way to his side of the bench. She pulled off her headdress, revealing her gray-haired scalp and pointed ears. She untied her coat and let it fall to show off her bloated undershirt. Her bosom jutted out from her chest audaciously, displaying a very unscrupulous amount of cleavage which harnessed every bit of youth and energy she still had. Beneath it were her pants which clung to her legs like a swimsuit. The curves of her thighs and haunches were monstrous, something equally as bombastic as her chest. She strutted her way up to the seat next to him, tail swaying, ass grinding, and sat herself down.

He put his drink down and looked over at her. His orange eyes nearly popped out of his skull, dropping down in an instant to her invasive tits. His mind, now a bit hazy, had trouble deducing that the woman next to him was the same sweet old lady who had just served him a lovely meal. If it wasn't for that same sweet smile on her face, he wouldn't have recognized her. "You... You uh..." He had to collect his words. "You look pretty."

She giggled and flicked her tail. "That's very sweet of you." Her eyes looked him up and down. "You're very handsome and strong. A hunter like you must be very skilled."

He scoffed. "Yeah... I think I am." He took another sip. Am I getting drunk? Or is my mind slipping? More than just making the pain in his gut go away, he felt like his body was getting lighter and that his balance was off kilter. Thoughts came into his head only slowly, one trailing the other. The sight of the woman in front of him was growing blurry. "I can... I can do a lot of things..." he slurred.

"Oh? Like what?"

He took another sip. "I can... I can make a pretty woman like you feel really nice."

"Mmmm, I bet you can~"

"Yeah..." He tried taking a sip, but only knocked the cup into his chin. He made to put it back down on the bench, but everything in front of him had split into doubles. "I can... I can..."

She took the cup from him and set it down. He had had enough. "You can do anything, handsome. Why don't we spend more time together in your room?"

His face lit up with excitement, or at least it tried given that his eyelids were twitching and half-closed. "Lovely!" He tried pushing himself up. He got to his feet, but couldn't straighten his back. He tilted forward, caught himself, stood still for a few moments, then straightened himself out, beaming proudly. "See? I'm a... I'm a..." His head nodded once, twice, and then he passed out. He landed face first into her cleavage, sinking his head down to the ears.

She caught him from falling, and petted the back of his head. "Shhhhhhhhh... It's alright. I know you are." She kissed his scalp. "Just stay asleep for me."

* * *

Makuta woke up on his back, rising out of a blurry fog like the masts of a ship approaching a harbor. His eyes remained unfocused and uncoupled, unable to make a single thing out ahead of him until several moments later. Soon the image in front of him coalesced, and he blinked for the first time. It was a wooden roof, hung with a burning chandelier. He did not recognize it. His eyes widened as the panic set in. He looked around, but saw nothing familiar. When he moved his head to the right he noticed that there was something jammed in his mouth. Saliva was clogged in and around his maw, almost choking him. He bit his teeth down and realized that he had been gagged by a cloth tied tightly around his head. He pulled his hands to his mouth, but discovered that they were tied together in front of his stomach. He looked down and saw shackles around his wrists. He was totally naked, all the way down to where his ankles were locked to the wooden table he sat on. Terror gripped him. He laid his head down and screamed. "HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHUUUUHHHHH!!!" His anguished voice rang through the room, echoing harmlessly. He could hear the fright in it, filling his bones with even more dread.

Suddenly, he heard a whisper. "Shhhhhhh... It would be best for the both of us if you remained quiet. People are trying to sleep, and I don't want to wake them. Struggling will only needlessly burn your energy." Grammeowster came up to the table and peered down at him. She was back in her winter outfit. Her smile remained, but it was much more sad now. "Hello, Makuta. I do apologize for doing this, but it has to be done."

That didn't sound good. He screamed again, putting every ounce of air that he had inhaled into his lungs. "HEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHUUUUUAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"

Grammeowster hardly flinched. "Do that all you want. It won't help you. Anyone who hears won't come to your rescue. Please, relax as best as you can. I want this to be as comfortable and painless as possible for you. She stepped away from his table. He lifted his head and watched her. She walked up to a counter laden with bowls and chopping boards. It was the kitchen where she prepped her meals. Jammed into a blood-stained board by its blade was a tremendous cleaver. Horror flooded his veins like ice. He screamed once more, now with an even more desperate sounding inflection. Grammeowster ignored him. "I won't be butchering you, if that's what you're thinking," she said, having read his mind. "Though I will be preparing you for your destination." Makuta tried asking what that meant, but all that came out was garbled vowels.

Grammeowster turned around, wiping her hands. "North of this village there is a monster who lives with its hoard in a mountain. She is Kulve Taroth, the golden dragon. She has terrorized this village for centuries now, demanding monthly tribute for her consumption. If unfulfilled, she swoops down from her cavern and drops hell on us. It had been a duty going back for many generations to find tributes for the dragon, a duty that is mine as it was my mother's, and her mother's, and her mother's, and that of many more before them." For once, her smile vanished. "Please do not take it personally, Makuta. I take no pleasure in doing this. I do it squarely for the survival of my loved ones."

It did nothing to assuage his terror. He screamed again, filling the kitchen and its surrounding halls with wails of fear and sadness. He yanked his limbs as hard as he possibly could, failing to do anything more than make the cast iron chains binding him rattle and shake. Grammeowster allowed him to struggle, knowing that it was pointless. After almost a minute of tumultuous flailing, Makuta came to a stop. His lungs burned and his muscles ached. His wrists and ankles were sure to be bruised. That is, if he lived long enough for them to form. He huffed through his gag, lifting his chest with each inhale. Finally he started to relax, only to burst into woeful sobs.

Terrible guilt wracked the Grammeowster, but she betrayed none of it. She had a job to do. "If that's all, please remain still. There's no hope for you, so it would be best to remain as calm as you can." With no more waiting or words, she picked up a large pitcher from the counter. She carried it over to the table where he was and tilted over him. What poured out was a viscous green sludge that splashed across his chest and soaked his fur. She spilled it across his trunk, down his legs, and right on his face. He slammed his eyes shut and held his breath for wherever the foul substance was. Globs of it fell into his mouth, and he realized that it was olive oil. He was thoroughly soaked in it by the time the pitcher was empty. She set it down on the floor and began rubbing the oil into his skin like a masseuse would. She scrubbed up and down his body, making sure to get it into his cheeks, his pecs, his abdomen, his furred balls, his thighs, and finally his feet. He reeked of the low fat cooking aid by the time she was done. It sank deep into his nose and at the back of his throat.

Next came a bowl she picked up from the counter. She pinched some salt out of it and rubbed the tips of her fingers over his chest, sprinkling the tiny white grains onto him. Next game some herbs which she applied liberally around his arms and shoulders. She retrieved another pitcher, this one coming from the top of a lit stove. He braced when she poured it on him. It was hot, but not scalding. He didn't know what it was, but it mixed alongside the olive oil into his fur. He guessed it to be animal fat. Finally she pulled out a sack of bread crumbs and tossed handfuls of it all over his body. When she was done, he was caked from head to toe as if he had been tarred and feathered. The tastes and smells that clung to him so tightly made his mouth water. His gut was still full from his previous, and likely last, meal. It dawned on him that she had been fattening him up. He cursed himself for having given into his gluttony so easily, but not before he cursed her and every other denizen of that damned town.

Grammeowster added a few more garnishes to him, a slice of tomato there, a leaf of lettuce there. She lifted his head and pulled the gag out of his mouth. He gasped and flexed his chin, happy to have some freedom. "You bitch. You foul demon." he hissed at her. She had her back to him, searching for something in the cabinets. "I curse you and this town. I curse your mother and her mothers. I spit on the graves of your ancestors." She turned around and came back to the table. His vitriol did not cease. "I hope you die choking on your own flux! Your childr_oohhmmmf!_"

She had jammed a small red apple into his jaws, jamming his mouth and putting an end to his assault on her honor. "I've heard everything you just said and more from those who preceded you. You'll have to be more creative than that."

He certainly tried, although all he could muster was muffled growls while juice bled out from where his teeth sank into the apple. "Heerrrrggaaaahhhhh!"

"If that's what you want your last words to be, then so be it." She kicked at the table's legs, unlocking something. Apparently it was on wheels, and she began rolling him out of the kitchen. He could only watch as the ceiling panned above him, showing him the light of one chandelier after another. She pushed the table by the side where his feet were, an emotionless gaze on her face. He continued glowering at her through their whole journey through the hall, until finally they came to a stop. Makuta lowered his head to the table and craned his head back. There was a door. Grammeowster came up to it and opened it. Instantly the hall was filled with the chill of the outside, jostling Makuta in his chains with a dramatic shiver. She pulled him out into the hostile cold where the wind, though docile, knifed at his wet fur like a dozen razors. She shut the door and continued pushing him. He scowled at her no more, instead scrunching his face to brace against the dreaded frost he had battled for so many days prior. "It isn't far from here," Grammeowster assured him. "I won't let you freeze to death. We'll be there before I let you suffer such a cruel fate."

As if this wasn't cruel enough.

She wheeled him out of the village and into the woods. On occasion Makuta peeked through his scrunched eyes to peek at the snowy treetops pass by him. Amazingly, the overcast sky had broken for him, letting in a dazzling view of the stars and the galaxy beyond. He kept his eyes open just long enough to look at that, knowing at this point that it would be his last chance to do so. Grammeowster huffed her way through the forest, clouds of vapor billowing from her mouth. She had done this journey dozens of times, but in her advanced age it was starting to prove difficult. Carrying her forward was the knowledge that Kulve did not approve of dead tributes. She wanted them alive. Grammeowster had to get him there before inevitably the oils on his fur would freeze him into an icicle.

Soon she saw the dragon's ridge peek through the trees. There was that ominous entrance to the cave, a gaping maw of darkness leading to a home of treasures and certain death. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like the teeth of a beast, ready to chew and swallow any poor beast foolish enough to enter it. Makuta saw it too, and the horror of what was about to happen returned in full. He struggled one last time, only to remain as hopelessly trapped as he ever had been. He was still tugging at his bondage by the time Grammeowster was finally done pushing him. She let go of the table and walked past him. Before she was out of his vision for good, she spoke to him. "Forgive me." She stepped out into the no-man's land between Makuta and the cave entrance. She cupped her hands in front of her mouth and hollered. "Kulve! I bring tribute." She bowed her head. "Please accept this humble gift as a token of our submission."

Makuta watched, heart pounding. She remained bowed for several seconds, not moving or making a sound. It had gone totally quiet. During their journey to the cave there was the constant grind of the wheels against the ground. Now there was nothing besides the occasional brush of wind, the pulse of his heart in his ears, and the perpetual chatter of his teeth. His hope rose at the thought of the dragon not being there, then quickly plummeted once he was Grammeowster scurry out of the way. Before him was nothing but a massive black void, leading into what looked like eternity. He saw nothing, nor heard anything.

Then came a rumble. It was distant, like from beyond the walls of a house or from many leagues away. Makuta could've mistaken it for a chair scooting across hardwood, or maybe far off thunder. Once he heard it again, closer this time, he knew what it was. Something very, very big was making its way out of the cave. It came slowly, anxiously, at such a sluggish pace that it seemed to not be getting closer. But it was, and soon Makuta felt the table vibrate beneath his back. He heard the enormous shifting sound of a body dragging itself across the rock floor of the cave. With it was something like the jangle of keys or coins in a purse. He recognized the sound of something breathing, low and deep like the absolute bottom pitch of a fat instrument. His imagination ran wild, preparing him for whatever monstrosity wandered out of that cave.

First he saw her eyes, rising out of the black like bioluminescent fish migrating to the ocean surface at night. Those two marbles glowed like a shimmering gold coin inspected under the light or candle. Her snout breached the light of the outside, followed by the rest of her leviathan cranium. Her enormous forelegs powered her forward and into the open, all for Makuta and Grammeowster to witness and worship. Kulve Taroth was one of the grandest Elder Dragons, both in stature and in raw flare. She did well to earn the moniker "Golden Dragon" as she embellished her entire hide with what looked like a cape of golden scales. Horns like a ram's thrusted out from her scalp and swirled down next to the flanks of her head. Their bases were thicker than even the proudest oak and shimmered like the purest of gold. Her beak was sharp and pointed. The scaly armor coating her breast and underbelly was much more dull than the rest of her, but exuded an incredible strength equally portrayed by her size. Her forelegs were like trees, bigger than her hindlegs which were mostly hidden by her gaudy dress. The top of her horned crown towered over the defenseless cat which she looked down upon with a growing smile. She liked what she saw.

Makuta wanted to beg with every ounce of his heart, but remained censored by the apple clogging his teeth. He started screaming and squirming when he saw that giant beak come down towards him, opened and ready to devour him. He closed his eyes and let loose one last howl, but he wasn't dead yet. Jutting out from underneath the table was a wooden lever unseen by Makuta. Kulve pressed it with her beak, and the shackles flung open. Makuta gasped, shocked by his newfound liberty. He took advantage of it immediately and rolled off the table. He landed on his feet and sprinted as fast as he could, naked as the day he was born, hands tied together in front of him, apple in his jaws, covered in breadcrumbs.

He didn't make it far. Kulve darted her head out at him and snatched him in her jaws, catching him around his trunk. Her teeth, mercifully dull, clamped down on his sides and hoisted him into the air like a toy. He felt weightless as he saw the ground grow smaller beneath him. He was turned sideways along with her head. His legs hung out one side of her mouth, his head and arms out the other. He finally managed to spit out the apple to unleash one last scream, one unbridled as it was bloodcurdling. One of the last things he saw was Grammeowster watching him, a morose and stoic look on her face.

Kulve opened her maw and snapped it shut, readjusting Makuta's position in her teeth. He was jostled and jerked around until finally he was laying down the length of her tongue, a soft, wet, spongey mattress which burned and twitched beneath him. The roof of her mouth clamped down on him, rendering his world nothing but a darkened cave of saliva and rancid breath. With his head locked in place, looking up at the parted gap between her teeth, he saw the light of the world for the last time. He reached out to it, desperate for one last crunch of snow beneath his feet, for one last launch of an arrow from his bow, for one last touch from a woman. Instead he got darkness as her jaws shut around him. Behind him, at his feet, was a flexing vortex of muscle which suddenly opened and sucked at his legs. His body was slurped down into that greedy sphincter and enveloped by an all-encompassing cocoon of hot, mucousy flesh.

Kulve leaned her head back as he made his way down her mighty gullet. He went down whole, bulging out her lengthy neck for as long as he traveled down it. From her throat to her belly he went, leaving that tight corridor only to spit out into an open pool of foul-smelling bile. He landed in what felt like a soup of decaying meats and pulpified vegetables. He thrashed and splashed wildly, frantically searching for something to hold on to. All his hands found were walls of slimy flesh and more of that rancid water. He thrusted his head upwards for air, but there wasn't any. His gaping maw swallowed nothing but acid which flooded his lungs and stomach. He gulped more, and more, and more, all in vain attempts to breathe. What he found was only more of that dragon's product. It filled his insides and caked his fur. It was all there was, and all there would be.

Kulve closed her eyes, savoring every bit of his fruitless struggles. His limbs pummeled the inside of her stomach like an internal massage. Grammeowster saw the scales around her belly bend and bulge where he struck her. She saw the push of his hands which was centered by the outline of his head. It was his last grasp at freedom, one that lasted only a few moments before the three bulges receded. After that, there was peace. Kulve sighed through her nose, emitting two streams of black smoke, filling the air with her brimstone. A sign of content. Grammeowster bowed. "I hope that meal was to your supreme satisfaction, O mighty Kulve. I will bring more to you before the next moon."

Kulve didn't notice her. She shifted her giant body around and sauntered back into the dark of her cave, dragging her enormous gold cape with her. Grammeowster stayed where she was until she could no longer see the dragon. Once it was quiet, she gathered the table and began the journey back to the village.

* * *

The following morning Grammeowster notified the village of that night's tribute, and was rewarded kindly. A banquet was held in her honor, as there was every month. She didn't have to do any of the cooking, a welcome respite from her regular duties. She spent the day laughing and singing with everyone, smiling her usual smile and showing every bit of kindness to the many folk who loved and appreciated her. She promised them another successful tribute the next month, and many more after that. "Or for at least as long as my back lets me!" she joked. That got a few laughs.

She and the townsfolk would've been happy to know that Kulve enjoyed her meal very much. She spent that night in the cave on her back, atop her treasure hoard, rolling her hands across her belly to feel the vanquished cat roll around in her tummy. Makuta dissolved inside of her, slowly melding into her juices and joining the great unit that was her body. Soon his skin unraveled, then his muscles, then everything down to the bone. Nothing was wasted, turning his body into the perfect source of energy and storage. Whatever was left of him was grafted into the rolls of fat which clung to her belly, thighs, and haunches. The proud hunter who valued his skills in the dead of winter was now nothing more than juicy rolls of fat which wobbled and shook around her hind end whenever she walked. Makuta, who had beared the cruelty of the cold for weeks on his lonesome, would return to the earth as a steaming pile in the woods, left behind by the mighty dragoness who returned to her hoard and slept, dreaming of how tasty her next tribute would be.

THE END