# How Not To Graduate 2: Hunting

By: TheDragonBoy

## Content

Chapter 2: Hunting

When Fiona opened her eyes the next morning, it felt more like entering a dream than leaving one. With Jack’s scent heavy in her nose, the werewolf’s awareness quickly spread to encompass the sensation of his warm, soft form, pressed up snugly against the front of her body.

Stray bits of sunlight leaked in through the curtains, waving gently in the morning breeze. The faint, muffled sounds of birdsong crept in from outside, but for now the quiet soundscape was dominated by their own soft breathing as the couple rested, comfortable and happy in bed.

Fiona’s arm was still draped over Jack from the night before, so she squeezed him just a touch closer, reveling in the unfettered sensation of his body pressing deeper into her fur. He seemed to tuck so perfectly against her, his lightly curled body the perfect size to nestle sweetly against the yielding touch of her bare, flat belly.

*guuuuurgle*

…Oh, and also Fiona was starving. The realization crept up on her, then suddenly pounced: the idea of this human pressed firmly against her belly was so appealing that she would very much like to have this human on the inside. Despite the open window, the marked scent flooding her nostrils was actually beginning to smell a little too irresistible, even for her. Fiona swallowed, and for the first time noticed the drool that had been steadily leaking out from between her jaws all night, dripping out to form a soggy puddle around her boyfriend’s shoulders.

Yup, that decided it. She needed to go out hunting. Now.

Battling both her predatory instincts and her budding romantic ones, she reluctantly released her grip on her human, and gently pulled away. Jack shifted a bit in his sleep, making a little noise of protest, and Fiona froze: after a full night of the sensation of his skin against her fur, now that it was absent she felt a sudden, unfamiliar pang of longing. But alas, the drool in her mouth spurred her on -- up and out of bed, into the cold and Jack-less world beyond.

Finally slipping out of the covers, she glanced down at her boyfriend, still sleeping warm and sound in their bed, and gave him an equally warm smile before quietly slipping away: she really did need to attend to her belly before it attended to him. With the practiced silence of a predator, Fiona slipped on the day’s outfit -- one that left her belly exposed to the breeze, in anticipation of a satisfying meal. She slipped away to the bathroom, washing her muzzle but leaving as much of Jack’s scent on her as she could, then almost reluctantly left the room to see what novel flavors of breakfast might await her in this strange new country.

Heading downstairs, Fiona’s sensitive snout picked up the scent of a vixen. As she entered the Rava family kitchen she was greeted by Mira, sitting at a table, reading the newspaper and sipping a mug of tea.

“Good morning, Fiona!” the middle-aged fox greeted, with a frankly frightening level of pep given the hour. “Did you sleep well, dear? Was Jack comfortable in his bed?”

Fiona still hadn’t gotten the image of Jack’s curled-up shape in the blankets out of her head, so she found herself grinning again as she tried to form a reply. “Yeah,” she said with the hint of a happy sigh. “I think we were both very comfortable. Thank you.” She didn’t really want to mention which bed he had slept in -- not that she was embarrassed or anything, she just didn’t want to make their host feel bad about not using the… doggie bed.

Mira raised an eyebrow at Fiona’s lovestruck look. “Hm, I see! Well, I’m glad that the two of you had a good night…” the fox finally said with a smile. “It’s nice to see you settling in.”

Fiona’s tail and ears all perked up at her response, but she did her best to push it all down and move on before she started blushing. “Yeah, great, so um, Mrs. Rav -- erm, Mira. I’m pretty hungry, and I was wondering if you might have any local hunting advice.”

The older vixen blinked at the wolf’s peculiar choice of words. “Hunting advice?”

“Well, you’ve been living here a while,” Fiona said happily. “So I figured you’d probably--”

“Urgh…” mumbled a voice atop the stairs, interrupting them. “Why’res’y’all talking so loud?”

Both predators swiveled their ears, then their eyes followed a moment later to fall upon Vicky draped over the banister. Fiona barely kept her mouth from falling open. Vicky was no longer the elegant, well-groomed predator she had met last night. This morning, the vixen instead looked like she’d been run over by one of those ‘car’ things Fiona had encountered yesterday: bleary and bedraggled with a bad fur day, as she stumbled down the stairs in a zombie-like shamble.

“Ah, perfect timing!” Mira said perkily. Vicky blinked miserably in response. Seemed like only one of the Ravas was a morning person… “Unfortunately I need to prepare for class, but Vicky will happily show you around town. She knows all the best breakfast spots!”

Vicky groaned. “It is seven in the morning, for goddess’s sake…” the younger fox whined.

“Exactly! I’ve told you before, dear: the early fox gets the human…” Mira replied serenely.

“Hey, my mom used to say the same thing about wolves and humans!” Fiona interjected.

Mira nodded sagely in agreement. “Your mother sounds like a wise predator: breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and this is the best hour to catch breakfast! You’re both still growing girls, you couldn’t ask for a better time to go looking for humans…”

"Mum, no sane human or predator would be out this early…" Vicky insisted, squinting to block out the horrible morning light. Ugh, she’d never seen a clock say ‘seven’ before…

“Nonsense, dear: early-morning humans are the best ones, they still taste like coffee!”

“Thanks for the advice, ma’am, that gives me a scent to follow…” Fiona said earnestly.

“I don’t leave the house before noon, mum: that’s what Voredash is for…” Vicky protested.

“None of that now!” Mira scolded, but a smile twitched at the edge of her muzzle nonetheless. “We want to be on our best behavior for our guests, so out of the house with both of you! Go help Fiona with her… what did you call it, dear? ‘Hunting’? Scram! Go hunting~”

Vicky groaned and trudged off to get ready (still whining the whole time), while Fiona waited downstairs, tapping her paw impatiently as her stomach continued to protest its continued emptiness. The vixen eventually returned, fur brushed and looking… at least vaguely awake, before the two young predators finally left the house, off on their early-morning hunting trip.

Fiona set her nose to the breeze in this new, strange town, and set her sights on filling her poor, empty, achy belly. She hadn’t really expected to have a hunting buddy, but she had to admit, having Vicky out with her did feel a lot more comfortable than knowing this vixen was back home with her defenseless, sleeping boyfriend. Mira didn’t seem like the sort of fox that would swipe Jack when the werewolf wasn’t looking, but she couldn’t say the same for her daughter…

Still, now that she could smell so many delicious human scents on the breeze, the werewolf’s earlier hesitance was melting away, much like the fate Fiona had in mind for her future breakfast -- sure, she was still worried about Vicky trying to eat her human, but the vixen did seem like an experienced huntress, and she did know her way around town. With Jack safe at home, Fiona was curious to sample the local breakfast menu…

But while having Vicky safely in earshot was one less distraction, Fiona quickly found that there were still plenty of other distractions to keep her busy. From the moment she’d stepped outside, her nose had been twitching nonstop: she seemed to pick out a hundred new scents with every block they covered. Everything smelled different; far more different than she was used to. The trees and greenery, far less abundant than back home, gave off a completely different aroma, which was almost completely overtaken by the many different fragrances drifting out from the many buildings. Metal, smoke, stone, a tantalizing sniff of some strange, probably human-made treat that she couldn’t even place. Oh, and the most tantalizing treats of all were walking around on the sidewalks: the humans themselves!

At first she’d thought it was her hunger playing tricks on her -- after all, Jack had started smelling even more appetizing than usual for a moment, back in bed -- but she could swear that every human she and Vicky walked past smelled better than the last. Better than any human she could ever remember catching back home. Excluding Jack, of course: naturally he had the most amazing scent ever thanks to her mark, and she’d be a pretty lousy girlfriend to forget her boyfriend’s scent, but…

(…not that she was pondering Jack’s scent while looking for breakfast or anything, Fiona loyally reminded herself. Jack was not for eating, no matter how much she’d drooled this morning…)

The werewolf was jolted from her daydreams back to the real world as Vicky suddenly spoke up.

“So spill it, Wolfy -- why does your pet taste like that?”

“Wha- Jack is not my pet!” Fiona replied, completely ignoring the actual ‘taste’ question.

“Oh come off it, he tasted incredible! It was like, uh, how would I describe it…” The vixen licked her lips, trying to put her thoughts into words. “He tasted like… Hm, no, it was more like… I mean, it, he…” Vicky huffed in frustration. “Look, he just tasted exotic and alluring and delicious, okay? I don’t have the words. I’ve never tasted anyone half that good… Except Jamie, of course!” she said loyally, then paused. “So what’s your secret, Wolfy?”

“Secret? I mean… He’s marked prey…” Fiona’s tail visibly sagged, her ears sliding back. It wasn’t a subject she liked talking about; probably the biggest mistake of her life, one which kept coming back to haunt her poor boyfriend on a daily basis. “It is sort of my fault, I guess…”

“Fault?? Why would something so wonderful be your fault?” Vicky blurted out. “But wait, back up: you’re saying you did that? How!?” the vixen asked. She looked a bit awestruck -- and hungry. “Is it some secret blend of eleven herbs and spices, can you teach me? Don’t get me wrong, Jamie is already the tastiest human in the whole town, but if I could make him taste like that…” Vicky sighed dreamily. “He and I would both be over the moon…”

Fiona blinked. Both of them would be happy? But… “Look, I try not to talk about it, okay?” the werewolf said awkwardly, after a moment. “I don’t… like thinking of Jack like that…”

“Like what? A wonderfully, delightfully, mouthwateringly delicious treat?”

“Yes! Cut it out! Stop talking about him like that!” Fiona snapped.

“Okay, sure, jeez, but… why?” Vicky said, blinking at Fiona as if she’d grown a second tail.

“Because I don’t want predators like you trying to eat him!”

“…Ohhh! Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Vicky said. Her tone softened. “You don’t have to worry about me, Wolfy -- Jack is all yours, I promise. I won’t lay a paw on him, and I’ll tell all my friends too. Consider him entirely off the menu.” The vixen laughed. “Besides, I already have Jamie! If I had two tasty humans to drool over at the same time, I’d drown~”

Despite the numerous little red flags throughout their conversation, Fiona’s tail fluttered a bit. She’d hardly ever run into another predator who’d agreed to do that for Jack so readily. A smile crossed her muzzle: suddenly this strange vixen was shining in a rather different light. Except, wait: had Vicky said she was drooling over Jamie? Fiona opened her mouth and…

*guuuuuurgle*

The werewolf blinked. That had come from both their bellies, almost in harmony.

Vicky licked her lips eagerly. “Anyway! I’d love to keep chatting, but this talk about tasty humans has got me all worked up. I’ll bee-arr-bee, this won’t take more than a jiffy!~”

“I… I don’t… What does that mean?” Fiona asked blankly, but Vicky was already gone, loping off towards a trio of humans relaxing under a nearby tree. Fiona’s confusion quickly faded, as she saw the vixen stroke her belly in anticipation of a solid, satisfying meal: a predator on the hunt was a sight the werewolf was intimately familiar with. Her years of experience kicking in, Fiona fell silent, not wanting to miss a single detail: was she about to witness what hunting looked like in Nomshire? Maybe she’d have some new tricks to bring back to her friends at home!

She locked eyes on the vixen and observed. It didn’t take long before the fox picked her first potential target, very clearly changing direction and -- making eye contact? Offering them a friendly wave? Fiona’s eyebrows rose. Wait, was the vixen now just walking directly up to them?

That was certainly a… bold strategy, the werewolf decided. But would it pay off for her?

Just out of earshot, Fiona watched the body language as predator and prey collided. At first she’d been puzzled at how Vicky was planning to pounce on her breakfast if the young man she’d singled out had seen her coming, but now she was just completely befuddled. With a laid-back posture and an almost… flirtatious smile, the vixen said a few words to her breakfast of choice, and the man instantly went rigid and… red? He shrunk back a bit, and maybe looked a bit nervous. Was he about to run? That’s what Fiona would have expected, certainly. She peered a bit closer, still trying to decipher exactly what was happening on the human’s face.

And a moment later, she missed her chance, because Vicky then proceeded to quickly scoop the man up in her hands and shove his face into her jaws.

Wait, what!? Just like that!? Fiona was so confused that she ran the events back over several times in her head, not quite believing her own eyes. She was utterly shocked (and frankly, rather impressed) at the inexplicable ease with which the vixen had secured her meal. It distracted her enough that she actually lost focus and missed the first moments of said meal’s journey: despite her odd prowling technique, Fiona had to admit that Vicky did look like an experienced predator.

The man she’d claimed disappeared quickly, deeper inch by inch. The human did squirm a bit in Vicky’s jaws -- a bit of struggling was normal and expected, Fiona knew -- but Vicky didn’t seem to have the slightest difficulty bolting him down her throat, savoring her breakfast with complete confidence. Once again, Fiona was honestly impressed: Vicky was such a skilled huntress that (if Fiona hadn’t known better) she might’ve thought the human wasn’t even trying to get away!

Wait, were the other uneaten humans… taking pictures with Vicky? Fiona blinked. And putting in their numbers into that strange ‘phone’ thing Jamie had been showing off yesterday??

Fiona tilted her head in confusion as Vicky offered a friendly-looking wave to the other uneaten humans, then strolled back (with her swaying belly) over towards where she’d left the werewolf standing. Vicky looked satisfied, licking her lips happily. “Ta-daa… and breakfast is served!~”

"How… how did you do that?” Fiona asked, looking rather stunned. “That was amazing!"

“Thank you, Wolfy. You’re totally right, I am amazing.” Vicky agreed, visibly preening. "As if any human out there could possibly resist a vixen like me.” She flashed a grin, showing just a little fang. “Though I bet you’re very popular with the humans yourself, back home~”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “I meant that they didn't run away from you. How did you do that?”

“Stop pulling my tail, Wolfy -- so what, you’re saying breakfast runs where you’re from?” Vicky laughed, then paused as Fiona nodded. They exchanged looks of mutual disbelief. “Wait, you’re serious.” she said slowly. “What does ‘hunting’ look like back in your hometown?”

Was she being pranked? Fiona wondered. Of course humans always ran, hunting wouldn’t be any fun otherwise! Except for that one human Vicky just caught, but… he must’ve frozen up in the moment, Fiona decided. Vicky’s brilliant orange fur and curves had been rather striking in the morning light, so she couldn’t even blame him. The werewolf pushed the sudden image away, to focus on the seemingly sincere question to which the vixen was awaiting a reply.

“Well, you know, the three ‘P’s of predation: prowling, prediction, pouncing.” Fiona explained. “Making sure you pick a meal you can disarm and swallow safely, getting them down your throat before they can put up a fight. All the stuff like that, you know…”

Vicky gave her a blank look. "Um, maybe you could just show me how you hunt?” she said, after an awkward moment. “My mum says that I do best with a ‘maws-on’ learning style…”

Fiona nodded, taking a breath to center herself, and started to walk. At first, the werewolf went a bit slowly, to get a feel for the ground under her paws -- solid earth, good for running. This place was pretty strange, after all, and there were a lot of things that might potentially throw off her focus. But even in those first few steps, the werewolf felt that familiar mindset take hold of her: years of practice and generations of instinct guiding her hunt. And she had an audience today, one she wanted to impress. She’d always done her best hunting when showing off…

The werewolf took another deeper breath, this time gathering all the various scents from her surroundings, neatly sorting them in her mind, seeking the human that called to her most…

*guuurgle*

…or rather, that called to her belly most. Suddenly, all the strange people in their strange clothes and strange buildings fell away. It didn’t matter where she was: nature was still nature, humans were still humans, stomachs still needed to be filled, and she was a predator on the hunt.

Now the looks she got from passing humans no longer made Fiona question if she somehow seemed foreign or out of place -- instead they only told her which prey she wouldn’t be able to take by surprise. But that wasn’t any trouble for an experienced huntress like Fiona. All the hungry werewolf needed to do was wait, and keep her eyes sharp, until…

Yes, there, perfect. Fiona felt a little, familiar jolt down her spine as she set eyes on her future meal, her mind connecting the scent with the sight. She was far too experienced to let it show, naturally: she (mostly) kept the excitement out of her tail, and kept her gaze just casual enough to avoid suspicion. The only things she couldn’t quite hide were the increase in her pace, and the eager little grumble that escaped her hungry belly as she imagined stuffing it full again.

Fiona reveled in the moment as she closed the distance. There’d been a lot of stress in getting to Nomshire, and a whole lot of new, strange experiences since she’d arrived, but not this. This was familiar, comforting even. Just a girl and her soon-to-be-breakfast; a huntress and her prey; an empty belly and a nice, tasty human to fill it, standing so close… Just a few steps now…

Almost… almost…

The instant she was close enough, Fiona launched into motion, and it felt right. The werewolf’s casual walk fluidly shifted into an all-out pounce, not even giving her prey a single instant to prepare. She tackled the completely unsuspecting man from the side, wrapping her clawed grip around his shoulders mid-fall and pulling him to the ground beneath her, pinning him beneath her, pressed up against the very spot in which he would spend the brief remainder of his life.

Normally, she would have wrapped her jaws over her meal’s head immediately, but she hadn’t seen any trace of a wand or other defense on him, so on a split-second whim Fiona decided to indulge a bit. She was showing off for Vicky, after all. Pressing her breakfast’s arms downward, just to make sure he couldn’t try anything, she gave the human a second to recover from his shock, just so she could see the look on her meal’s face when he realized she had caught him.

But instead of terror, or pleading, the human just looked awestruck and started… blushing? Why was he staring up at her and blushing!? His flustered face was so close to hers that she started blushing too, a confusing, conflicting emotion that she struggled to fight back down.

“Don’t you want to run?” Fiona asked. She didn’t normally… talk with food. Some predators did, but she’d always thought it was kinda cruel, to give a human false hope. It wasn’t like she’d give him a second chance even if he said yes. Fiona was hungry, she’d caught her breakfast, and he wasn’t going anywhere except inside her now… but she just needed to know.

“Why would I run?” the human said breathlessly.

*guuuurgle*

The werewolf’s belly rumbled hungrilly directly atop him, loud and greedy: a clearer answer to his question than any words she could have possibly given. But he just lay there, limp in her claws, continuing to blush up at her, starstruck. She tried (and failed) for one moment more to understand what was happening, but eventually decided that it didn’t really matter. Her breakfast was apparently… defective, but he still smelled tantalizingly delicious and she was starving.

Fiona had no idea what this odd human thought was going to happen, but her stomach definitely knew what came next: confused or not, he was going inside. The werewolf parted her jaws, strands of drool dripping down thanks to her extra seconds of hesitation, preparing his one-way journey down her throat. The last detail she saw was the human giving her… a nod?? Then…

*NOMF!*

Fiona felt a familiar, pleasant stretch in her gullet, as her breakfast’s head slipped into her throat. The exquisite taste sent a shiver down her spine, and the werewolf let out a breathy little noise of pleasure despite having her mouth full. This human tasted amazing, a sublime level of flavor she usually only got from her rare marked meals. Curling her fingers, she pulled the man’s lower back up off the ground a bit, so she could further stretch her muzzle around his succulent, filling form. Instantly, she noticed a difference. She’d swallowed humans in this position dozens -- no, hundreds! -- of times, and they always tried to pull away when she went for her first big swallow. It was a biological, hardwired instinct to panic when they realized there was no escape. But not only did she not feel any resistance today, this human actually felt like he was pushing deeper!

*GULP*

Honestly, she didn’t have the time or inclination to stop and contemplate the situation. Whatever was wrong with these Nomshire humans, it certainly wasn’t their taste. And after a long night spent curled up around her marked boyfriend, her body was demanding that the meal in her gullet get sent down to her belly as quickly as predatorily possible. Her stomach was aching, stretching wider in anticipation of being full. And Fiona was more than happy to oblige.

*GULP*
*GULP*

Fiona slid her hands down his body, in time with the contractions of her throat, systematically working her meaty breakfast past her jaws with uncanny efficiency. The large bulge in her neck and chest grew larger, then larger still, as the man under her disappeared, swallow by swallow.

*GULP*
*GLRK--!?*

A very unexpected movement from Fiona’s newly acquired breakfast suddenly made her throat clench. Over the years, she’d gotten very familiar with all kinds of struggles from her meals: thrashing, waving, kicking, wiggling. But her throat had never experienced such an intentional, directed squirm from her prey, forcing itself straight down deeper toward her rumbling belly.

The werewolf felt her meal pull his limbs in tighter in response to her body’s shift, meekly letting her throat funnel him deeper. That wasn’t how prey were supposed to act, Fiona thought, but that confusing thought was swiftly washed away beneath the tide of continued flavor, and the unyielding urge to continue gulping her strange human breakfast down where he belonged.

*GULP*

Her prey’s legs slipped further and further into her body as she bolted them down. She’d barely been working her meal for twenty seconds, but Fiona already found herself sitting up, dragging the human’s lower half off the ground. With her catch halfway inside behind her fur, the werewolf swallowed faster and faster, eager to cross that threshold. If the human wasn’t fighting back, if he’d given up and accepted his inevitable fate as breakfast, so much the better for her!

*GULP*
*G-GLRK?!?*

But just as she lifted her meal for the most important swallow, the swallow that would let gravity work for her rather than against, something once again threw off the experienced predator’s familiar rhythm. While savoring her meal, her jaws had reached his hips… only to discover a very particular, very strong scent, rising from somewhere right under her nostrils.

Fiona hesitated, if only for a moment, before her hunger won out again and she clenched her gullet once more, pulling her prey deeper. Her meal’s hips slid past her teeth and into her throat. And as they did, a very distinct bulge slid all the way down the middle of Fiona’s tongue.

The werewolf’s eyes went wide. That wasn’t… This human couldn’t really have been…?

As her tongue pressed up against the length in her human’s pants, soaking through the fabric, her breakfast shuddered in her gullet’s hungry grip. The werewolf’s entire body froze, mid-meal, as she processed exactly what had just entered her throat. She… supposed she had swallowed that… particular part of her meals before, along with the rest of them, but… she’d never really thought about it before! None of her previous meals had ever been… Fiona blushed. Hard.

Strangeness aside, she had to admit that, well… it did not taste bad. It was an unusual flavor, to be sure, but it was uniquely tantalizing in its own way, an entirely new dimension of human taste. A little savory, a little salty… In truth, it tasted good enough that the werewolf found herself starting to drool again, threatening to drown her breakfast before he even made it to her belly.

*GULP*
*GULP*

Fiona felt her meal’s bulge slip down into her own, and couldn’t help mentally tracing the faint, extra pressure against her gullet as it slipped along. An unexpected, but (surprisingly) not entirely unwelcome twist to her sampling of this foreign cuisine. Sealed tight inside her slick throat, more and more of her meal was packed into her fast-growing belly. The furry dome rumbled loudly around the fresh meat, as her body felt the pull of gravity swinging fully in her favor, signaling the coming end to her breakfast’s plunge.

Pushing herself upright with a light slosh, Fiona tossed her head skyward. Her food must have seen the writing on the wall, because instead of struggling he pressed his legs together, letting the feasting canine suck down the last remainder of her morning meal with unparalleled ease.

*GULP*
*GULP*
*GULP*~

Fiona savored the last, perfect instant of tautness in her throat, as her prey’s toes slipped down. She rested one paw on her stomach, feeling every detail as her breakfast crossed the line from human to food, before her airways finally cleared again and she let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

Oddly, though, nobody was pulling out their wands? Nobody looked concerned that she might be looking for a second course. In fact, nobody looked scared at all.

Fiona struggled to decide whether she was content to just digest in peace, or whether to be a tiny bit offended. She could definitely down a second human if she wanted, she thought huffily. Fiona hadn’t worked her tail off in the advanced class for nothing! Though, to be honest, while her body wasn’t having any trouble in the slightest, her mind was still trying to process aspects of what had just happened -- and even what was still happening -- with the one meal she’d already packed away inside…

“Holy shit, Wolfy! That was intense!” Vicky called out, trotting over and offering the freshly stuffed werewolf a hand back to her paws. The vixen fanned herself. “I’m a little hot under the collar now! Can you pin me down and show me how to do that trick sometime?”

Fiona barely even registered Vicky’s words… though it was nice getting some proper respect!

“What was that!?” the werewolf finally said.

“That was breakfast!” Vicky said happily.

“He’s… not even struggling in there.”

“I can, if you want…?” the human offered. “If that would make your meal better?”

“They talk, too?” Fiona blinked. “Is… is that… normal around here?”

“Huh, you must have some very shy humans back home…” Vicky mused.

(Well, usually less shy and more… muffled screams of panic, but Fiona decided not to correct that itty-bitty misunderstanding, since it probably was poor breakfast conversation around here.)

The werewolf pawed at her belly and watched it jiggle, as the human inside just… sat there, inside her stomach. “The humans back home aren’t anything like this,” Fiona admitted.

“Ain’t no breakfast like a Nomshire breakfast~” Vicky said, grinning back at the gobsmacked werewolf. “We pride ourselves on having the most willing, eager humans in the entire country…”

Willing? Eager? Fiona thought over the vixen’s choice of words, then thought them over again. Could she possibly be saying… Fiona paused, glancing at the big, calm bulge in her middle.

“So… you’re saying that every human here will basically just… climb down your throat?”

“Sure, don’t yours?” the vixen asked skeptically.

“No!”

Vicky blinked. “Huh.” she said.

(Apparently they didn’t have proper human training and breeding programs where Fiona came from, Vicky thought, but it would probably be rude to insult the werewolf’s native cuisine? Well, hopefully Jamie’s good training would rub off on Jack anyway.)

“…Well, that’s gonna be weird,” Fiona finally admitted. “Not… bad weird though, I guess.”

“Speaking of weird-but-not-bad-weird…” Vicky said leadingly. “So… you and Jack…?”

“…What about us?” Fiona asked, suddenly on her guard. That was a very… complicated question to hear from a fellow predator, especially so soon after the subject of willing breakfast. And especially from a predator who she was starting to see as a friend.

“Oh, I just noticed that nobody slept in his cute little pet bed last night -- I was curious!” Vicky paused, then snickered. “Also, you smell like him. It’s, uh… kinda noticeable.”

“Yeah, he, um… we slept together in ‘my’ bed cause…” Fiona braced herself for the worst, and took the plunge. “…because Jack and I are dating.”

“Aww! You two make a super cute couple. I’m happy for you both.”

Now it was Fiona’s turn to stare. No side-eyed look, or disapproving glare? No snide comment doubting if a predator and a human could have a ‘real relationship’? No calling Jack a pet?

(That was a new concern, admittedly.)

The werewolf watched the sincere smile on the vixen’s muzzle, and tentatively offered a warm smile of her own. “…Thanks, Vicky,” Fiona replied at last, tail fluttering.

“Don’t mention it!” Vicky dismissed, then paused. “You’re a little strange, Wolfy, but you’re alright…” the vixen finally decided. “I’m glad Jack has someone like you in his life…”

The two huntresses walked back home together: their conversation felt lighter now, despite their heavy bellies. They just talked about… casual things: their high school experiences, the effect of hair color on a human’s taste (Vicky insisted redheads were tastiest, Fiona replied that the vixen was apparently color-taste-blind), their favorite book series, their plans for life after college. Vicky teasingly asked whether boyfriends gave better belly rubs than pets did, Fiona shot back that maybe she’d have to borrow Jamie and find out. Their twin, satisfied stomachs gurgled together in harmony. Everything felt right in the world.

As the two full-bellied predators opened the door and walked back into the Rava household, Jack was sitting right at the table, chatting with Mira over coffee. Fiona cleared her throat.

“So, Jack, there's something you might wanna know about this place.”

Originally Published: 25-May-2024