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At the Ziggurat By Strega

The kzinti with the yellow stripes let out a chilling snarl and came all over Marla's ample bosom. It had taken the stripper's hands, her breasts and her mouth to tease the eight-foot-tall alien pseudo-cat into ejaculating, and it would never have happened had he not been very drunk. Only about once a month did a kzinti show up so horny and desperate as to put his honor aside and get it on with a human.

Tonight there were three, which was something the girls would talk about for years afterward. Ten feet from Marla's dripping boobs Shanya was doing her damnest to take the black-masked kzinti's formidable shaft up her ass. The chunky black stripper was famous for being able to take nearly anything in that hole, but few males have barbs like a kzinti's penis. He was as determined to get it in there as she was to take it, and Shanya grunted as another few inches of ankle-thick cock were stuffed in. There was a limit to what lube could do, after all.

Even for a kzin the amount of cum dripping down Marla's breasts was amazing. He must have been pent up beyond belief. The yellow-striped cat pulled her close and grinned drunkenly at his much smaller lover. He had many teeth, and they were very sharp.

The third kzinti, smaller but if anything better hung than the other two, was running his raspy tongue hungrily over first Keila and then Bobbi as the two slender strippers sucked him off. His naked pink tail lashed back and forth as they took turns mouthing his tip and there were never less than three hands working his fifteen-inch cock at a time. The twins were competing to see who could get him to cum in their mouth and had sworn to get every drop so only one of them would win the bet.

Given the amount of jizm that had come out of the yellow-striped one it'd be quite a trick to swallow it all without some escaping, but a bet was a bet.

The black-masked one stepped up over Shanya, who had fallen onto all fours, and assumed a similarly feral stance. Growling rhythmically he arched his back to mount, and sure enough Shanya finally got his entire ponderous cock up her tailpipe. The slap-slap-slap of his tail on the floor was matched by her gasps and his growls as his barbed shaft went in and out. She'd walk funny in the morning from the barbs if nothing else.

Or she'd walk funny if she survived, which she wouldn't. Marla was already halfway down the yellow-striped one's gullet. With no particular difficulty he had yawned and swallowed her head, paused only a moment to work his way over her shoulders, and was bolting her down with enthusiastic heaves of his great furry muzzle. This was more in line with what they usually got from a kzinti customer. Only a few - usually Kdaptists, kzinti who worshiped human gods - wanted to mate with a human. Nine out of ten kzin instead showed up wanting the flavor of a human on their after-dinner belches. There were still bad feelings between the races and it was a rare kzin who didn't like the thought of a human kicking helplessly in his stomach.

Sure enough the big kzin on Shanya's back leaned down and engulfed her head. Humping powerfully he drove his cock up her ass, each slam of his hips pushing another inch of her into his fanged jaws. She was a big, heavy woman, but the kzin must weigh twice as much and soon she'd be just a bulge in his middle. That was all right; it'd be the fifth time this year that Shanya ended up inside a kzin. She was struggling now, more out of duty than any sense of self preservation. There was no way to stop him if he really wanted to eat her, but kzinti liked it when you put up a fight. It was remarkable what you could learn if death was only a momentary inconvenience.

Over in the corner Bobbi was sucking desperately on the tip of the smallest kzinti's cock. He had swallowed her feetfirst all the way to her breasts and unless she hurried Keila was going to be the one to get a mouthful of kzinti cum. Bobbi was about two gulps from disappearing down his throat and then it would be her sister's turn. That was going to be one very well-fed cat.

The kzin let out a muffled snarl as he came, his throat stuffed full of human, but despite her best efforts Bobbi didn't manage to contain it all. Keila had to take over, for even as the kzinti ejaculated his jaws closed over Bobbi's face. One last heavy gulp and he lay panting, his cum dripping off Keila as she licked up all she could. He rested for just a moment, his middle growing lumpy as Bobbi arrived in his belly, then his powerful hands pulled Keila close as he yawned. Her smile was visible for an instant before the first gulp took her to the shoulders, for she had won the bet. No doubt she would tell her twin that in the kzin's stomach before the acids consumed them.

In the corner Charl-captain belched. He had paid quite a lot for the services of the strippers, four of whom had entered the room and two of whom already occupied kzinti stomachs. When the smallest kzin finished swallowing his second helping and the navigator finished off Shanya there'd be nothing left in the room but well-fed kzin, and that, plus the pre-meal fun, was what Charl-captain paid for. His crew had performed excellently on their recent difficult trade mission and what sort of captain would be be if he didn't treat them to dinner afterward?

For himself it had not been a stripper. He had asked for and gotten a powerfully muscled man, who at other times fought in the gladiatorial ring on the second floor. Though they were on average a foot and a half taller, twice as heavy and far stronger than even a big human, a young and foolish kzin might lose a hand to hand fight against a strong and skillful one. Charl-captain was neither young nor foolish. He grinned and ran a clawed hand over the still-twitching bulge in his belly. The man had fought like a demon and he had his own bruises to remember this meal by, but sheer size and strength had won the day. Soon enough he'd gotten his jaws around the man's head and for all his meal kicked and struggled Charl had swallowed him whole.

The captain felt with his tongue where he had lost one of his many teeth in the struggle, but still he smiled. He wasn't the one being digested.

His people had fought and lost four wars with humanity, but as his yellow-striped second in command was prone to say, his stomach had yet to find a human it could not defeat. In this there was some satisfaction, at least.

On the other side of the cameras the floor supervisor smiled a little sadly. It wasn't safe working at the Ziggurat. You might die in a barfight on the lowest level, end up in the arena on the second, be raped to death by a minotaur on the third or, as several humans had just experienced, be eaten by a hungry predator on the fourth. Each successive floor was smaller and more dangerous. But there were offsetting perks. For one thing, you didn't stay dead. They called their new selves clones, but only because they needed a word for what happened. And as long as you worked at the place and lived in its labyrinthine living quarters, you didn't age. When you died, you just woke up a little later in your room, remembering everything. For some people that was too much, but others came to enjoy the horrible things that happened to them. Each of the women now occupying a kzinti stomach had volunteered for it.

No one knew who built the Ziggurat or what powered it, much less how it worked, but it had served as a bar and place of debauchery for centuries at the very least. From here, if you knew the right door, you could step out into the spaceport where Charl-captain's ship sat, or onto Earth, where originated the humans the kzinti were happily digesting. There were many, many other doors as well. At least a hundred worlds had access to the Ziggurat and vice-versa and ownership of the place was hotly contested. The half life of an administration here was just under two years.

But she was just a floor supervisor. Politics only affected her obliquely. She touched a control, which might be a glowing gemstone or a button depending on who looked at it, and spoke into the air.

"Rugera, see that the prisoner is delivered to our guests in room 4-C."

The kzinti looked up as the door opened and a a tightly bound woman was thrown in. The one doing the throwing was a woman of a species they had never seen before, brown and furry and muscular, sharp of fang and claw. Almost like a kzinrette, though hardly more than six feet tall, and far more attractive to the males than any human. Sadly, she did not come in, but spoke from the doorway.

"Your discretion is appreciated," she growled. "The lack of blood will make this room easier to clean. As a reward, and to celebrate your first visit to the Ziggurat, a gift." She gestured at the bound woman, who while human-like clearly wasn't and who was again of a species the kzinti had never seen before.

"She must remain gagged, but she is otherwise yours."

As the door clicked shut the black-masked navigator grinned and glanced at the others. Charl-captain made a dismissive gesture from his beanbag; he was content with a single human meal, albeit one twice as heavy as most of the females. The smallest kzin, too, signaled a lack of interest. He was already almost too full to move.

That left yellow-stripes and the masked kzin, both full but neither so full as to leave her lie. The wide-eyed woman shrieked through her gag as the navigator pulled her into his lap. Before she could even grow used to the kzinti cock almost splitting her in half the male with yellow stripes stepped up behind her. Her scream went even higher as he found the other ready opening.

The navigator and quartermaster were providing them with quite a show, reaming their little pointy-eared lover front and back. In other circumstanced the two might share a meal afterward, but not when the Ziggurat staff had just thanked them for their neatness. Charl-captain held up a coin, and each of the rutting kzin nodded. Chance would determine whose stomach their lover would occupy when they were satisfied.

The floor supervisor watched them have their fun, though she didn't want to. It was her duty, unfortunately. She would have to watch until the very end.

The kzinti knew they were allowed to eat their lovers, or opponents in Charl-captain's case. They had heard the rumors about the immortal staff of the Ziggurat and even had they been likely to hesitate, they wouldn't now. Soon enough either the yellow-striped or masked one would lean down and begin to swallow, and the bound woman would suffer the same fate as the others.

It either didn't occur to them or was of no interest to the kzin that the woman might not be a Ziggurat employee. But, in fact, she was. While it was occasionally useful to dispose of troublemakers by using visiting predators, that wasn't what was happening here.

As the yellow-striped kzin snarled and came on the woman's back the floor supervisor sighed. It couldn't be long now.

It wasn't. Though he was still bouncing her in his lap the masked kzin yawned and began his meal. The floor supervisor could only watch as the former owner of the Ziggurat, a good friend of hers and now dripping kzinti semen from two holes, disappeared into the maw of the navigator. There was, after all, one exception to the immortality clause. The owner of the place wouldn't come back when killed, and what better way to untraceably dispose of a former ruler than to feed her to a predator who would be back on his home world before he was even done digesting her?