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It was three weeks before Christmas, and as usual Tim Lawton was working late.

He arrived at his thirty-eighth-floor office at eight in the morning, spent the day directing company policy and dealing with senior employees, took a nap on the day bed in the adjoining room and then was back at it until late in the evening. One of the benefits of being the company CEO was no one could tell you it was wrong to take a nap at work. No one else was allowed to, but rank hath its privileges.

You don't get to be 90 percent of a billionaire without hard work. When he came in that morning he checked his stock portfolio and smiled. Ninety-one percent, now.

Sometimes he even stayed overnight and slept on the daybed. His wife didn't like that, but she knew her place. He was the boss, she was the trophy wife. He had two sons, now. He couldn't remember the older one's name, but the boys existed. He was pretty sure the younger one's name was Bobby.

For two hours that afternoon he went over the company books, looking for corners to cut. Every fall he went through the same routine, finding employees the company could do without and bonuses or benefits they didn't really need. Tomorrow he'd fire two senior researchers and hire two new, less experienced, but most importantly cheaper ones. A few more errors in the lab wouldn't hurt anyone. Well, it wouldn't hurt him anyway.

Company profits were the goal, and if some of the lower-downs had to sleep in their cars due to not being able to afford a house, that wasn't his problem. They took the job and if they didn't like it they could move on. The tighter a ship he ran, the sooner he'd join the billionaire's club.

It was a cruel business, cutting staff right before the holidays. Or so he was told. Tim didn't really care about people. They were just cogs in a machine he ran. Sometimes a wheel squeaked, and then the wheel had to find somewhere else to work. It was cheaper than greasing them.

He read an email about a new cost-cutting measure one of his lab techs proposed, and nodded. They could skirt a few of the proposed trials on the new Diabetes drug and still barely meet FDA guidelines. No doubt a few more people would die than otherwise and they'd be sued, but it was cheaper to fight a few lawsuits than to go through the tiresome testing rigmarole the chemists downstairs wanted.

He was going down a list of senior employees, doing one last check to see who he could fire and cheaply replace, when the door to the side room slowly swung open.

He saw it out of the corner of his eye and tilted his head. There was nothing in there but his day bed, mini bar, fridge and the attached bathroom. There was no way into the room except through his office and the door never showed any sign of wanting to swing on its own before.

The skyscraper sometimes swayed a little in strong winds, one of the reasons he wasn't up on the sixtieth floor instead of the thirty-eighth, but he didn't hear wind outside.

A sound came in through the open door. It sounded like a low, throaty...purr?

Curious, he saved the document he was working on - save early, save often - and walked over to the door.

There was a skunk on the daybed. Not the disgusting furry vermin sort he saw when he went to that filthy petting zoo for his son Timmy (Wally? Robert?)'s birthday last year. This skunk was very different.

"Merry Christmas," purred the skunkette, who was almost as tall as he was and dressed in a close fitting holiday-red outfit that covered her belly and little else. Her great brush of a black and white tail was adorned with red ribbons. She was a curvy anthropomorphic Christmas present lacking only a tag.

"Merry Christmas," Tim said, and took a step closer. He'd never met one of the rare anthros in person but she was clearly a real skunk-woman from pink nosepad to the like-colored pads on her five-toed furry feet.

She sniffed, and smiled. Sitting on the day bed cross-legged, she could smell not only him but the other people who'd visited this room. "I'm not the first woman you've had on this bed."

"How did you get in here?" Tim said, but she just smiled. Even engrossed in his work there was no way a five and a half foot tall skunk woman could sneak her tail through the office to this room. His desk faced the door, after all. "Have you been in here all day?"

"Maybe," she purred. "I like your suit, Tim. I wonder what you'd look like without it."

"Let's find out," Tim said, and proceeding on the very reasonable assumption the skunkette was a whore-o-gram, undressed. His daily visit to the gym on the twentieth floor wasn't wasted and she nodded approvingly as his trimly muscular form appeared. She stood up on her knees and rolled a furry tail bigger than she was beneath her rump until it spread out on the bed between them.

Tim accepted the invitation and climbed into bed with her, straddling the soft fur of he huge tail and leaning forward to kiss her. She leaned back teasingly and his lips only brushed her whiskery chops as one of her padded hands stroked his shoulder.

In a shockingly sudden motion her hand gripped down and pushed him down against her tail. She was stronger than she looked and his face sank into the musky fur before he could react. He instinctively spread out his hands to brace himself against the bed and lift himself back up, but by then her tail had grabbed him.

"What?" Tim was too shocked to react as the skunkette's long tailfur suddenly formed itself into dozens of hairy tendrils and wrapped around him. The hair tentacles varied from finger to wrist thickness and even the smaller ones wrapped tightly around him. One of the thick ones curled around his neck and pulled his face down into the tail, muffling his outcry. Other tendrils wound around his forearms and longer ones wrapped around his thighs where he straddled the skunkette's tail.

Several were even stroking the erection in his underwear but his arousal was dampened by sudden fear. The many tendrils tugged as one and sucked him into the mass of tailfur. In moments he was wrapped up like a mummy, with not an inch of skin still exposed to the air.

Somehow the pod of wrapped-up Tim rose into the air. He felt the skunkette brace herself on the bed, he hands and knees supporting his weight, and as her tail lifted he hung head down above her rump.

"You see Tim, I'm not your Christmas present," the skunkette purred. "You're mine."

The bulging pod of tailfur tensed, squeezed, and with a sound altogether too much like a gulp Tim found himself sliding down toward the skunkette's rump.

He couldn't explain how it happened. Not then, and not in the few minutes he had to figure it out afterward. Was there a maw inside her tail somewhere? Did her tail somehow shove him right up the skunkette's ass? All he could tell you is that as he slid a wet sphincter opened for his face and he slithered in.

There was no way to fight it. Wrapped in fur that squeezed from his feet forward, the bulge of him was pushed out of the tail and into whatever waited at her rump. Slimy orifice slithered over him and in one long slide the warm scratchy fur surrounding him was replaced by equally warm but much less friendly flesh.

As the slide came to a stop Tim was forced to curl up. Flesh and fur deformed to accommodate him and he felt the skunkette's green bodysuit stretch to let her belly bulge. Folds of inner flesh flattened to make room and sudden she had a great bulge in her middle, her swollen belly pressing down against the bed.

Tim couldn't tell you how he got where he now was, but he knew what the place was. The thick coating of slime on the inner walls of her stomach stung him wherever it touched and thick droplets of it dripped glutinously down into the gaps of his folded up limbs, bringing the sting of acid with them.

"Hey! HEY!" Tim recovered from the shock of suddenly being eaten whole and squirmed. He found that curled up in a ball, with nothing but slippery gut flesh to push against, it was difficult to get any leverage. He tried bracing his elbows against his thighs, though even they were already slick with belly slime, but the moment he began to move she wrapped her legs and arms around the bulge of Tim.

His struggles made her breasts bounce and caused the huge swelling in her middle to change shape, but no more than that. Somehow her ribcage had expanded to accommodate her enormous meal and even the thin layer of flesh and fur that lay between him and daylight was too strong and rubbery to damage. With nothing but his underwear, no knife, no claws like the skunkette's, all he could do was scrabble helplessly at the slimy walls.

"Why? Don't you know who I am?" He gasped in sips of bile-scented air trapped inside her with him.

"I know exactly who you are, Tim," the skunkette purred. He felt her legs squeeze the bulge he made and the imprints of her hands pressed in from above. The combined pressure squeezed out most of the air and he heard and felt her let out a long, wet burp. "You're my dinner."

"But I can pay," Tim gurgled. There was no answer, and those were his last words. With no air to displace it the acid flowed into her stomach and his next attempt at a breath sucked in only bile.

The struggle in Deidre's stomach was violent but brief. She smothered it with her arms and legs, just as she'd subdued the would-be billionaire's earlier efforts to escape. Not that he would have gotten free, regardless. A struggling meal could leave her bruised and sore if she wasn't careful but whether or not he bruised her innards, Tim's only escape from her body would be via her bowels. His fate was sealed the moment her tail got hold of him.

The acid displaced what little air remained and Deirdre belched again as the struggle in her middle diminished to a shiver. He was the twentieth or so human she'd eaten and except for the one willing meal they always protested to the last. It didn't save them, but they protested.

Deirdre gathered up Tim's clothing, except the underwear that would make its way through her guts with its owner, and tugged at the covers on the day bed until it looked about the same as before. A tendril of her tailfur reached into the mass of fur and emerged with her cell phone. She checked the pictures, she'd taken earlier, nodded when they matched the way the room and bed looked now, and waddled to the door. The tendril of fur returned her phone to the depths of her tail.

The clicking of claws told her Mirelle was busy. The wolverine was hunched over Tim's keyboard, a memory stick in one of the computer's ports. She looked up and her sharp-fanged smile faded.

"Aw," she growled. "I thought you were going to digest him in your tail."

"Couldn't," Deirdre purred. Her tail, back to its usual harmless-looking fluff, swayed behind her. It helped balance her against at least her own weight in human bulging out her belly. The beginnings of digestive gurgles emerged from her gut and a few small tendrils returned the last displaced ribbon to its spot on her tail. "It would take too long and we might miss a bone it spat out."

"Too bad," Mirelle growled. "They're nice and crunchy." She pulled the memory stick out and stood. "Double check, please."

Deirdre nodded and waddled over to the computer. The elves in the people-to-be-disappeared office at the North Pole gave them everything they needed. No resignation letter, but the already existing financial improprieties just needed a little tinkering to make it look like Tim planned tonight's disappearance. His second in command, a much less Naughty man, would run the company better. Less overall profit, but a much less Scroogian management style, and less testing skipped on the company's pharmaceutical products.

"Looks good," Deirdre purred. Mirelle smiled back. Like the skunkette, the wolverine was in a skimpy Christmas-themed outfit, hers being red-brown and having a bit of bondage wear look to it. Mirelle was the most recently hired of Santa Binky's assistants but she'd been around long to help with a few pre-Christmas visits like this. They always sent two of Binky's assistants, to have a second pair of eyes to cut down on mistakes. A certain number of holiday disappearances were tolerated by governments, and to keep the peace as many as possible were covered up.

Mirelle was shorter and more muscular than Binky's other assistants, with arms and legs the same length so she could go comfortably on all fours if she liked. A lifelong fan of anal, her talents there now extended to being able to eat whole people with her asshole. She also enjoyed crunching up bones in her powerful wolverine jaws, which meant she was very happy to clean up after Deirdre when the skunkette's tail digested someone and spat out the bones.

"I get the next one," Mirelle growled, and Deirdre nodded. She'd looked at the list on her phone earlier. Next on the Very Naughty list was a crooked loan manager. That woman would have an exciting adventure as she was sucked in under Mirelle's tail and would later appear from that same hole, albeit looking rather different than when she went in.

"I do like early Christmas presents," Deirdre purred, and Mirelle grinned a sharp-fanged grin. Sharing the wealth, Santa Binky called it. He could eat everyone on the Very Naughty list, as his powers included a seemingly bottomless stomach, but why be greedy?

"Ready to return," Deirdre purred, having given the room one last looking over. A doorway with a frame of berry-studded holly appeared and they returned to the North Pole the way they arrived. Only then did the room's security systems come back on.

If it was investigated, and it likely would be, all the evidence would point to Tim interfering with the system to cover up his disappearance. They'd look for him, and the missing money, but never find either. The money would go to good causes, and as for him?

His wife would wonder, and perhaps his boys would be sad, little though they saw him. They'd wonder for years, though generous presents from Santa would smooth over their hurt. They never would learn what happened to their father.

No one saw Tim disappear into Deidre's tail, and no one would see his remains reappear from the pink star under it.