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Her name was Carolyn Walker, and she was Very Naughty.

She arrived at her office that day, three weeks before Christmas, and settled down with a sigh behind her desk. There was a sheaf of snail mail and an equally large collection of missives on her computer, all much the same: applications for loans, documents pertaining to federal grants that supported the loans, and desperate messages from homeowners as to the state of said loans.

There was a remarkable amount of money to be made in issuing loans, doctoring the paperwork to one extent or another, then sadly informing the homeowners that their loan was in fact partly denied by the government. Or various fees, taxes, permits and so on must be paid before the rest showed up.The federal agencies tasked to support those in disaster areas were so overworked that they could only throw money at the problem and hope it went into reliable hands.

Carolyn's hands were reliable only in the sense that a good chunk of the money mysteriously evaporated as they handled it. Why, just this year almost a million dollars worth of wildfire relief money made it only as far as her hidden bank accounts. One more year of that and she'd move on, change her name and maybe even country of operation, and start over.

Carolyn did not start over. This was the day she went to her office and never left it, as far as anyone could tell. They'd go over her records later, spot the financial discrepancies, and conclude she fled with the money. That was not what happened to Carolyn.

She was elbows deep in a complex loan application that should net her close to a hundred thousand dollars and the loan recipient rather less than they'd hoped for, when there was a knock at her office door.

Grumbling, for her assistant had the morning off for some dental thing, she made her way to the door and opened it.

Carolyn blinked, for outside the door was a statuesque anthro-cat with sleek black fur and a holiday outfit. Christmas-green leggings and body suit, wide green eyes and a twitching furry tail bearing a sprig of mistletoe on a green ribbon on the end. Soft furry breasts bulged out of the top of the pantheress's corset and the cat smiled at her from a couple of inches of height advantage. Muscular and sleek, with sharp teeth in her muzzle, Carolyn might have recoiled in fear were it not for the festive holiday outfit.

Recoiling in fear would not have saved Carolyn, but in this case it would still have been the correct response.

"I'm sorry," Carolyn said after a pause, because anthros were rare and she'd not met one before, much less one dressed like some sort of furry elf stripper, "But this office doesn't donate to -"

Just then the pantheress reached out one softly pink-padded hand, claws sheathed, and stuck something like a Christmas present label across Carolyn's mouth.

"Hey," Carolyn tried to say, but the label stuck fast to her lips and wouldn't come off when she pawed at it. She looked up from the attempt as a brown furry anthro a head shorter than the pantheress came out from behind the cat and with an athletic hop flipped a red felt bag over Carolyn's head.

It was a large bag, the kind you saw in pictures where Santa is delivering presents, and as Carolyn staggered the brown furry anthro scooped her up in it. Carolyn let out a muffled cry of protest as she was hoisted off the ground and elbowed the brown thing's broad muscular back, failing to provoke even a grunt.

"You'd better let me out," she said as best she could through the gift label on her mouth. It was stuck fast and even with time to claw at it with her fingernails it wouldn't come off. She had to breathe through her nose and her protests were reduced to a whisper. She kicked and struggled as the furry thing let the bag fall on the carpet but the mouth of it was cinched shut somehow.

Giving up on tearing free of the thing, she paused to listen. There was the rapid click of fingers on a keyboard and she realized one or the other of the anthros was at her computer. Probably the black pantheress as the brown furry one had sharp white claws and she didn't hear those on the keys.

"That's private," Carolyn muttered, but the clatter of keys went on for several minutes.

"That should do it," came a purring voice that could only be the black pantheress. "Double check me, please."

"Looks good," came a growl a while later. There were a series of noises whose origin Carolyn could only guess at, then the bag was once again hoisted across a broad furry back.

There was a security guard who patrolled the building but he didn't show up in the brief time she'd been in the bag. If he'd come by and peeked in her office door, who knows what might have happened. But he didn't.

Even through the felt bag Carolyn felt a chill gust of air, which was strange as she was two hallways and an elevator from the outside and the windows in her office didn't open, then the bag was thumped unceremoniously on a floor that didn't feel carpeted. The cinch was undone and she glared at the brown furry thing as the bag was pulled off.

The brown furry thing was a muscular female anthro an inch or so more than five feet in height. She had sharp white claws and wore a red-brown body suit that looked to be halfway between a holiday outfit and bondage wear, given the number of buckles and straps. The anthro's hands and feet seemed too big for her body and her smile revealed sharp white fangs in her short muzzle.

Carolyn saw the yellow-brown stripe that ran up each of the anthro's cheeks and across her forehead, a glimpse of the same on her flanks where the bondage suit didn't cover, the short thick furry tail and the blotches of white fur on the thing's neck. She realized she was looking at an anthropomorphic wolverine who despite being several inches shorter than herself weighed at least as much as she did due to being thick of body and strongly muscled.

"Hello there," growled the wolverine, and wrapped a strand of red Christmas ribbon around Carolyn's wrists as they emerged from the bag. Like the label on her mouth the ribbon stuck fast and was too strong to break.

"What is all this," Carolyn mumbled through the label, but the wolverine just grinned and pushed her over. With a tug she was wholly out of the bag and lying on a dark wooden floor.

Only now did she realized she wasn't in the office any more. She seemed to be in something like a hunting lodge, with wooden beams overhead, hardwood flood underneath and an awful lot of holiday decorations given it was still three weeks to Christmas.

What she thought was another bit of holiday cheer made Carolyn blink. The antique-looking window by the Christmas tree had snow on the outside windowsill and on the wood framing of each pane. As she watched, flakes drifted down out of the darkness and added to the accumulation.

Darkness? It was nine in the morning and the sun was up!

"What the hell," Carolyn muttered, and the wolverine followed her eyes to the window.

"Oh yes," the anthro growled. "It's that time of year at the North Pole. Dark most of the day. And it's earlier here than where we were when we picked you up."

"Have fun Mirelle," purred the pantheress, who'd gathered up the red felt bag and made a few notes in some sort of ledger before disappearing through a side door.

"Oh, I will," growled the wolverine, and her eyes returned to Carolyn.

"What's going on," Carolyn mumbled, and the wolverine grinned.

"You've been naughty," the anthro growled. She reached out an oversized furry hand and pushed Carolyn back prone. "Very naughty indeed."

A sudden chill ran down Carolyn's spine as Mirelle licked her chops. She was an office worker, no match for the wolverine even with her hands untied. Mirelle must weigh more than she did, had sharp claws and fangs and was solid muscle under her fur.

"I'm just a loan manager," Carolyn protested, "And they'll look for me!"

"A crooked loan manager," the wolverine growled, "And where you're going, no one will think to look." She grinned and moved closer.

From her seated position Carolyn reflexively kicked her and b y good luck her foot hit the muscular wolverine's ankle as she was stepping forward. The brown furry anthro thumped on her side on the wood floor and Carolyn got a better look at the broad yellow-brown stripes that ran down her sides. The red-brown body suit didn't go past the wolverine's hips and her sex was exposed as she came swiftly back on hands and knees.

She was facing away and Carolyn took advantage, kicking her as hard she could in the nethers. If she could stun the beast woman for a moment she could look for a way out or a friendly face in this weird holiday nightmare.

Unfortunately that was exactly what Mirelle wanted her to do. Both the wolverine's ears were flipped back toward her and she sensed where Carolyn was aiming. The wolverine ducked her hips and instead of kicking her in the pussy Carolyn's expensive leather pump disappeared beneath her tail.

Literally disappeared. With a wet squelch Carolyn's whole foot went up the wolverine's ass and wet anus squeezed tight around her ankle.

"Oh yes," the beast woman growled, and flipped her tail from side to side. "Harder!"

"Freak," Carolyn grimaced, and tried to drag her foot back out. That just made Mirelle moan and clench down. Try as she might, she couldn't get her shoe out of the wolverine's asshole. Carolyn planted her other foot on the beast's muscular furry ass and pushed.

That, too, Mirelle was expecting. The wolverine suddenly thrust her rump toward Carolyn, forcing her knees against her chest. Carolyn went over on her back and watched in horror at her other foot disappeared beneath the wolverine's tail. A peculiar slithering sensation followed as Mirelle sat on her and both of Carolyn's feet, shoes, socks, calves and all, squeezed into a musteline asshole and disappeared.

"Oh, god," Carolyn muttered. Her legs were halfway into a furry woman's intestines and she could imagine what they'd look and smell like when she got them out.

"That's what I said," the wolverine growled, and rose once more to hands and knees. The sucking grip of her asshole forced Carolyn's legs to straighten rather than pull out and to her horror the the beast woman once again backed up toward her.

"This is impossible," Carolyn said as her knees disappeared beneath the wolverine's tail. With her wrists bound she couldn't brace herself against the floor to pull back out. All she could do was ass-walk backwards to try to escape the sucking grip of the wolverine's bowels.

It wasn't nearly enough. Mirelle groaned and tensed and inside her rump a muscular contraction rippled over Carolyn's ingested feet. A lower intestine is supposed to push things out, not suck them in, but that is just what happened. Her furry ass cheeks spread as Carolyn's thighs were swallowed up by the sucking hole beneath her tail.

"You can't be doing this, there are bones in there!" Surely there was something in the way, pelvis, hips, something! She was nearly to the hips in musteline asshole and Mirelle looked to have every intention of eating her with her butt.

The toes of her pumps encountered a fleshy obstruction and with a gasp of horror Carolyn tried to push the advancing rump away. What she felt had to be the lower entrance to the wolverine's stomach and things would get much worse once she was in the part of the digestive tract that specialized in doing the digesting.

"It's fun, but it's not easy," growled the wolverine, and with another shuddering growl she sucked Carolyn's hips into her asshole. Her rump was stretched like a cartoon around the widest part of a woman's body and Carolyn's feet were slithering through her intestines.

The good news was that despite a wriggle of the wolverine's rump in an effort to get her hands to slip in too they didn't. The bad was that another groan and internal contraction from Mirelle, Carolyn felt her shoes squeeze past the obstruction and into her stomach. Gastric juices soaked into her socks and stung the bare skin of her ankles, the burn slowly moving up her legs as she continued to emerge into the stomach.

Carolyn beat at the wolverine's rump with her bound-together hands but that just made Mirelle laugh. Another great contraction moved the wrong way through the beast woman's lower intestine and Carolyn's belly disappeared, following her pumps, knee-length smock and belt into the wolverine's ass. Her arms were forced upward despite her best efforts to brace herself against the pull and she was pulled in to the armpits.

"Why?" She mumbled, knowing there would be no escape. Stomach acids stung her legs from the thighs down. One or two more contractions and the beast woman's asshole would complete its work of swallowing her whole. Then it was just a question of how long Mirelle would need to digest her. She was a wolverine, a predator, and a wolverine's stomach knows what to do with meat even if it's in the form of a whole woman.

Mirelle groaned and Carolyn's shoulders followed the rest. Wet, stretched anus framed her face and her arms hung pathetically out past her chin. They would be sucked in soon enough.

The wolverine was on her hands and needs, tail raised, groaning as though she were taking a difficult shit. Exactly the opposite was happening and as her asshole began to clench down she reached back past her rump. In her sharp-clawed handed was a makeup mirror and Carolyn could see herself now, face framed by purple-pink wolverine asshole.

The point of it all was across her mouth. The Christmas present label the pantheress stuck there to gag her.

FOR MIRELLE, it read in a smooth cursive scrawl. FROM SANTA. The wolverine groaned, tensed, and Carolyn was sucked in.

The asshole clenched slowly shut over her face and she let out a last inarticulate shriek of protest. It wasn't fair! All she did was skin a little money off of people's loans. She didn't deserve to be eaten by a wolverine's ass!

The light was cut off as she sank deeper. Her arms blocked more of the light as she was sucked into the beast woman's bowels and the last thing she was was the curve of Mirelle's furry butt cheeks as they pulled back together. There was no longer a whole woman to cartoonishly push them apart. Flesh slithered past her face. Strangely, the wolverine's guts didn't stink. Maybe there simply wasn't enough air in here to carry the smell. There was a last brush of fur against her forearms, then her hands as they too were pulled into the wolverine's slimy bowels.

With a grunt she heard through the surrounding flesh the wolverine stood up as tall as she could on hands and knees, leaving room for the heavy droop of her belly. Carolyn slithered through Mirelle's bowels, knowing where she was going and what would happen to her when she got there. As she slid into the beast woman's stomach she slipped and slid against the slimy walls and soon found herself curled in a ball.

She could feel Mirelle's thighs pressing against the bottom of the bulge and the way the drooping gut barely brushed the floor. The beast woman's body suit stretched tight over the bulge, but it was elastic enough to accommodate a meal almost as heavy as the wolverine. Chances are Carolyn wasn't the first person to bulge out her belly.

This was it, then. There was no way out. The soft slimy walls were too slick to grip to put up any sort of a fight and rivulets of thick caustic slime were dripping over the parts of her not already acid-burnt.

With a contented sigh the wolverine woman flopped over on her side, and the rude bump squeezed the belly tight in around Carolyn. Most of the air left in a rush and from inside her she heard the wolverine let out a heavy belch. She'd expected a fart, if anything, but the air took the short way out rather than navigate the wolverine's bowels the way it got in.

The good news was she only had perhaps one breath of air left. The bad was the acid flowing in to fill the gaps previously occupied by the rest of the air. The beast woman's belly was turning into a cauldron of acid and the sting spreading over Carolyn's skin would soon be something much worse.

Mirelle hefted her sloshing belly up off the floor, walking four-footed and climbing onto something. From what she could feel from inside the beast it was a padded nook, maybe something like a love seat. Here she curled up around the lumpy bulge in her middle, padded hands stroking the lumpy bulge of food that was Carolyn. She just chuckled as the panicked, futile struggle that made her belly jiggle.

The acid came flowing in and Carolyn sank into the gurgling dark. “No one would ever know what happened to me,” she thought. “Who would believe it even if they saw it? Carolyn Walker, loan agent, businesswoman, now just a Christmas present for a wolverine's ass.”

Eventually the wolverine's bowels would move the way they were meant to and perhaps her very expensive suit top and smock would reappear from that same hole. They might even look much the same, but the rest of her would be in a very different condition than she was in now. Carolyn kicked and squirmed, but burnt all over by acid and gasping for air in the bile-scented dark, she knew what would happen now. No one saw her disappear into the wolverine's ass. No one would see what used to be her come out of it.

Mirelle was asleep, curled up around the bulge in her middle in the padded sitting nook she liked to use as a bed, when another of Santa Binky's assistants came in. This was an Arctic vixen, pure white of fur with a green holiday themed outfit. Hers was a lighter green than the pantheress's and featured gold bells at the end of many waist tassels.

She smiled, draped a blanket over the side of Mirelle that faced the frosty window, and gave the sleeping wolverine's swollen gut a little pat.

"My turn next," she whispered, and left Mirelle in peace to digest her meal.