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Their names were Darrin and Dawn Lawton, husband and wife. They owned a chain of low rent apartment buildings throughout the city, and by careful management and good lawyers managed to spend as little money as possible on them.

Slumlords, a few people called them. The few people they hadn't bought off. Two months ago a whole 200-unit complex burned down, with over twenty fatalities, but they were confident even this wouldn't put them out of business. They had too many city inspectors and reporters on their payroll for anything incriminating to come out. It would be blamed on tenants hoarding flammables in their apartments and tampering with the (non-existent, or at best badly maintained) sprinkler systems. Poor people, what can you do?

Insurance would cover the loss. They had, of course, not skimped on the insurance. They skimped on maintenance, cleaning services, and everything else they could get away with, but not insurance.

They'd been running their low-rent apartments for eight years and were sure they'd come through the inevitable lawsuits regarding the fire just fine. And they were right. They would have survived that. But they didn't survive ending up on the Very Naughty list.

It was a week before Christmas when they arrived at their penthouse after dinner at a nice restaurant. They did not, of course, live in one of their complexes. Their apartment was in a far better part of town and could not have been afforded by the people who lived in their rat-trap developments.

Darrin opened the door and Dawn went in, carrying a doggy bag of leftovers in each hand. She was taken aback for a moment to see a small, but well decorated Christmas tree on a side table.

"Oh, pretty," Darrin said. "The cleaning staff must have left it."

Dawn nodded, not sure how she felt about that. The cleaning staff were supposed to come and go invisibly, like all the little people. They were supposed to just make life better for the rich without being seen or noticed.

"Oh, don't be a grump," Darrin said. "It's holiday cheer!"

Dawn smiled, and having deposited the leftovers in the fridge, let herself be led over to the little tree. Darrin got out his phone for a picture of the two of them in front of it. He'd send it to their tenants. The owners, in front of a little Christmas tree. Nothing ostentatious, nothing that made them look rich. No actual Christmas cards, though. Those cost money.

They had just posed for the picture when the tree exploded.

The branches shook and tinsel shot in all directions. Most of it curved eerily in midair to hit them and they were engulfed in a shower of the stuff. Darrin let out a startled shout as tinsel wrapped around him like spiderweb, turning him in an instant into a mummy with only his face and feet exposed among all the glittering wrap. Dawn fared a little better but still had her legs laced together.

Darrin thumped down on the carpet like a sack of potatoes and Dawn sat down hard. Darrin rolled over as he heard a door open.

"Well, well, well," purred a voice. First out of the door was a sleek and statuesque black panther anthro in a dark green Christmas-ey outfit. Warm furry breasts struggled to escape from her body suit, thigh high leggings left her footpaws free and a sprig of mistletoe on a green ribbon ornamented to tip of her tail. Another sprig was on a garter belt surrounding her right thigh.

Behind her was a stark white fox anthro with a plush furry tail and a lighter green outfit. Hers was decorated with gold sleigh bells on green tassels hanging from her waist.

"Who are you?" asked Darrin. Neither he nor his wife had seen an anthro before, much less two at once. Two stripperesque furry ladies, no less.

"You've been naughty," the pantheress purred, and leaned down to stick what looked like a Christmas present label across Darrin's mouth. Dawn was sucking in air to scream when the fluffy white fox stepped forward and stuck on across hers.

Darrin squirmed like a caterpillar as the pantheress and white fox changed places. The sleek but muscular black cat hefted Dawn up into a chair, pulled another one alongside and sat back with a smile on her muzzled face.

"Very naughty," she purred, and tied Dawn's arms to the chair with a roll of red ribbon. It didn't stick to her padded hands but it stuck fast to Dawn's skin and like the tinsel it was much stronger than it looked.

"Strippergram," the white fox said, and smiled down at Darrin as she straddled his face. From her husband's expression Dawn guessed he was looking right at the arctic fox's furry pussy and suddenly he got a much closer look. The fox went down on her knees and then sat on his face.

"Does it make you jealous to see your husband eating another woman's pussy?" the pantheress purred. The white fox giggled and wriggled her rump atop Darren. Then she let out a groan and hooked her heels under his head. With nowhere to retreat she trapped his face against her pussy and sat on him with all her weight.

"Oh wait," the pantheress purred. "I had that backwards. Does it make you jealous to see another woman's pussy eating your husband?"

Dawn's eyes went wide, because that wasn't a euphemism. With a wet sucking sound Darrin's face disappeared between the fox's thighs, then with a pop his entire head. The fox's abdomen bulged and Darrin wriggled frantically as her pussy swallowed his head.

"Oh god," Dawn moaned, able to speak only in a whisper due to the Christmas present tag on her mouth. Darrin was desperately trying to worm free of the fox's carnivorous pussy, but he was wrapped up like a mummy and she had all the advantages. As he tried to back out she knee-walked along with him and when he blindly bumped into a recliner and came to a stop the fox leaned back against him. Pushing against the flow with her hands and legs she forced her distended snatch against his shoulders until with a wet slurp they slipped in.

"Why? Why us?" Dawn skipped past the "how" part, for the fox's cartoonishly elastic pussy was to her husband's elbows and his face bulged through her white belly fur. How wasn't important, just why she was eating him whole with her sex.

"Hold on dear," the pantheress purred. She darted forward and dug Darrin's wallet and car keys out of various pockets. The white fox stayed on hands and knees, Darrin's kicking lower body hanging out, until the pantheress returned to her chair. Then the fox's nose went up, she tensed, and with a long moan sucked Darrin in to the hips.

"Hard to digest," the pantheress purred, and dropped the wallet into a pouch at her side. "A pain to shit out," and followed it with the keys. And "Digestive acids don't like batteries either." She dropped Darrin's phone, recovered from the floor, in after.

"Digest?" Mumbled Dawn, her eyes fixed on the distended pink lips of the fox's pussy as they pulsated. Her stretched sex was like a great worm mouth that extended itself, gripped a couple of inches of her husband, pulled him in, and then reached out for more. Darrin's ass was consumed pants and all and the bulge in the arctic fox's belly grew.

"Oh yes," purred the pantheress. "It was her Christmas present a couple of years back. Mine too," she said. She stood from the chair and presented Dawn with her ass. She too was naked beneath the green Christmas outfit and the pink slit in the black-furred mound looked a lot more sinister than it would have a few minutes before.

"You know the rule about mistletoe," the pantheress purred, and curled her tail around so the sprig of it at the tip was right above her sex. "You have to kiss under it."

Dawn recoiled in horror, sure she would be swallowed whole if she so much as touched the pantheress's snatch, and the black cat chuckled and sat back down.

"Don't say I didn't offer," she purred, and with her out of the way Dawn saw what was left of her husband. The white fox's pussy had consumed him to the knees and the bulge in her middle was so huge she was draped over it as she fed. Darrin must weigh half as much as the fox but with a moan there was nothing left of him but a set of hundred-and-fifty-dollar leather dress shoes.

"Darrin," she groaned, and just then the white fox looked past her shoulder at her and grinned. The fox tensed, rocked forward and back on all fours, and with a slither Darrin's shoes disappeared. The white fox's pussy shrank back down to its normal appearance, her fluffy tail flicked, and with a grunt of effort she sat up with the lumpy bulge of Dawn's husband drooped down between her legs.

"All mine," she chuckled. Her outfit left her belly exposed and the swelling in her furry middle changed shape as Darrin tried to wriggle free. There was nowhere to wriggle to. All around him was the stretched furry fox body and though only an inch or two of fur and flesh separated him from the outside, it was enough. With not so much as a bread knife, even if he weren't tied up he was doomed.

"Don't worry," yipped the fox. She rubbed the bulge of Darrin's face, the curve of his cheekbones familiar even through the fur. "He'll suffocate before digestion really gets going."

"But how? He's not in your stomach!"

"Santa works in mysterious ways," the fox said, and the pantheress's hand came down on Dawn's arm from the side. She found the cat smiling at her. It was an anticipatory smile she didn't like at all. Especially when the pantheress licked her chops.

"While you were gone," the pantheress purred, "We went through your accounts. We had detailed instructions as to what to do. You managed to break a lot of laws and get away with it, but that's over. Tomorrow the news will break. Everyone will assume you took what money they could and ran. They will look everywhere for you. They won't find you."

Her attention went back to the arctic fox as the fox's pussy let out a long, wet belch. The sleigh bells jingled on their tassels as the burp moved them and the fox giggled as Darrin struggled weakly beneath her fur. Most of the air in her womb was vented and her furry belly shrank tight in against Dawn's husband. There was just the beginning of a digestive gurgle as the acids began to flow. She hadn't lied. Darrin was in her womb, but it might as well be a stomach. For now his every curve was outlined in fur, but soon he would soften.

Was there an internal connection, or would her pussy spit back any indigestibles? Would his remains come out there, or from the purple-black star beneath her tail?

"Last chance," the pantheress purred. She hovered her tailtip and its sprig of mistletoe over her groin. Sitting down, the slit of her pussy was just visible. "One kiss here, and you'll find out what it was like for him."

"No!", Dawn protested, and the pantheress nodded. With a flick of her claws she severed the ribbon binding Dawn's wrists to the chair. Dawn tried to wriggle free but the cat's iron grip pulled her out of the chair until they were nose to muzzle.

"That's fine," the pantheress purred. "Either way I get a meal." And she yawned.

Dawn watched the fangs part, watched strings of saliva stretch and snap between palate and raspy cat tongue, saw the cat's jaws creak wide until she was looking into a purple chute of gullet as wide as her face. Then the pantheress pulled, rocked her maw forward, and swallowed her face.

Sharp canine fangs locked beneath her chin and behind her ears, making it impossible to pull away. A tongue rough as sandpaper gathered beneath her chin and Dawn knew what was about to happen. She tried to squirm free and the pantheress staggered as she kicked her bound-together legs.

It probably wouldn't help if she managed to send them both to the floor. The pantheress was much stronger and her legs were free. Maybe she could delay the inevitable, though. Then as she kicked and squirmed a hand pushed her from behind. The fat white fox managed to waddle close enough to plant a hand between her should blades.

Dawn let out a muffled, despairing cry as her face sank into the cat's maw. The black pantheress purred, curled her muzzle down from above and swallowed.

Wet flesh slithered past her face as her whole head slipped into the pantheress's throat. The cat took a tight grip on her upper arms and worked her muzzle from side to side. It didn't surprise Dawn that the cat's maw was as elastic as the fox's pussy. With a pop her jaws disjointed and slipped over Dawn's upper arms.

It took the white fox's pussy a couple of minutes to suck in her husband. The black pantheress was faster. With a thrust of her muzzle Dawn was gone to the elbows and the cat lifted her by the forearms. Dawn kicked as she came to rest head down in the cat's gullet and then another gulp rolled over her. Gravity helped the throat muscles and her face pushed past a rubbery valve into a bile-scented space that could only be the cat's stomach.

"I hope you choke on me," Dawn growled through the Christmas present tag, but the pantheress didn't. There was a brief delay as her pockets were searched, but her phone and other items were in her purse on the table by the door. Once the cat assured herself that nothing bulky and indigestible was on her person the pantheress heaved her muzzle upward and gulped Dawn down.

Dawn kicked and squirmed, but the legs hanging from the black cat's jaws grew shorter with each gulp. Her shoulders slipped into the stomach to join her face and she was forced to curl up or have her neck broken. With a snap of the cat's muzzle her feet were in its mouth and the pantheress didn't dawdle. She swallowed, tensed as the bulge of feet moved through her neckfur, swallowed again, and Dawn slid heavily into the anthro cat's stomach.

"Damn it," she mumbled, for the walls of the belly were coated with a thick layer of caustic slime that stung when it touched her skin. A pool of more liquid acid waited at the bottom of the gut and with belly walls pressing in from all sides there was no way to stay out of it.

Dawn tried to kick, tried to punch the walls, but everything was slick with slime and there was no room to build up any momentum. She was curled up in a ball, just a lump of meat awaiting digestion. The cat's fangs had left long oozing scratches on her shoulders, butt and legs but she had far worse problems than a few scrapes.

When she started to squirm the black cat instantly wrapped her hands around the lumpy bulge she made. The pantheress knew exactly where to grip to smother her struggle. Her efforts made the cat sway where she stood but making the bulge jiggle didn't get her out of this caustic trap.

"Should have taken the pussy route," she heard the pantheress purr. "You would have suffocated before things got bad."

"Fuck you!" Dawn hissed, and elbowed what she hoped was the cat's liver with all the strength she could muster.

It just made the pantheress chuckle. "That was the idea, but you didn't want to be a sex toy."

The slimy walls slipped and slid around her, sucking in tight as the cat let out a long satiated belch. That should have been the end of it. She saw Darrin weaken as soon as the white fox's pussy burped.

The pantheress, though, sucked in and swallowed air to replace it. With an evil chuckle she gulped down more air and when she burped that up she swallowed still more. Acid flowed in and Dawn began to burn but death did not come as quickly for her as for her husband. Soaked in acid, slowly dissolving, she could only curse the cat.

She'd wondered how Darrin's remains would get out of the white fox. There was no such question about hers. She saw the pink star in the black fur beneath the cat's tail. She would move peacefully through the pantheress's bowels, all care for her fate long since gone. It's hard to worry about the pain of digestion after you've been digested.

Maybe her bones would survive, or her hair, or her clothes. Maybe it would all come back up as a revolting slimy mass, a giant hairball that used to be Dawn. But she could hope otherwise.

"I hope I stop up your asshole!" Came a muffled, defiant shout from beneath Flora's stretched belly fur, and she chuckled.

"You're so mean to them, sometimes" Fiona complained. Her distended middle was still now save for the low gurgle of digestion. Thanks to Binky's present a few years back, her current present would dissolve in her womb just as it would in her stomach.

"Some of them don't deserve nice," purred Flora. She rested her hand on the curve of Dawn's face and pushed. The woman was trying to suffocate herself by pressing her mouth against the fleshy wall of the stomach and Flora was having none of that. "She was Very Naughty."

With practice, she could keep someone alive in there for as much as half an hour. Sooner or later the acid still got them, or they went into heat stroke from the inability to shed heat in a sweltering pantheress stomach, or they managed to inhale a lungful of acid despite her best efforts. On a good day, though, she could make someone's last minutes truly unpleasant.

It made no difference in the end, of course. She'd get back to the North Pole and sooner or later she'd lift her tail. Whether it was someone she liked and she was nice to them or it was someone she disliked and went to some length to make them suffer, they always looked the same when they came out.

"We're ready to come back," Fiona yipped, and with a last glance around - Flora waddled over and grabbed her meal's purse - they went through the holly wreath portal that appeared. Fiona waddled through first, her lumpy gut still, and Flora followed, hers still wriggling.

Flora paused in the doorway, let out a long belch, and considered not swallowing more air. Then she did. The denizens of the run-down apartment complexes would never know of the horrible last minutes of their absentee owner, but the pantheress liked to think those minutes counted for something just the same.