Story contains: oral vore, same size vore, fat fur, female Raichu pred, male Houndoom prey, implied digestion, implied fatal vore.
      
      Tick tock. Grrrowl! Tick tock. Grrrg! Tick tock. Gurrrrn!
      
      That was the usual soundtrack to Ronnie's shift around lunchtime. The clock and her stomach, talking back and forth in a loop until her lunch break. Most would find it monotonous and distracting, but she thought it was nice background noise for her reading. The actual hunger was a different story.
      
      Ronnie flicked her long raichu tail and glanced up at the clock. Still a half hour until she could eat. She let out a soft sigh and shifted her generous thighs and tight jeans in her seat at the help desk, her round belly letting out another complaint. Skipping breakfast to get to work on time, never a good idea. At this rate she'd have to order a second footlong at the Subway down the street to get through the afternoon. She rubbed her gut, hanging out just below her shirt, in sympathy and buried her face back in her latest read, an old horror "penny dreadful."
      
      Her ear twitched when she heard the last thing she needed: trouble. An angry voice was rising in volume a few rows down, and it was the sort of angry that could only get worse. She huffed and rose from her seat to look into it, flicking her tail again.
      
      It didn't take long; the voice's owner wasn't exactly trying to keep her voice down. The woman in question was a braixen, sitting at a reading table with an open textbook and a notebook full of scribbles, teeth bared and tail lashing in rage against her neighbor. The houndoom man next to her wore a suave grin, though he was struggling to keep it from turning into an annoyed sneer. His tone was hushed, and he leaned over the braixen girl, a full head taller than her.
      
      Ronnie, however, was easily three heads taller than him.
      
      "Come on, I only asked for your number," the houndoom tried to smooth talk. "No need to make a scene here. We're in a library!"
      
      "I said no!" the braixen snapped back, voice rising higher still. "You didn't just 'ask for my number,' you've been hounding me for it for ten whole minutes. Get a clue, you creep!"
      
      The houndoom's mouth had hardly opened to speak before Ronnie cast her shadow over the two of them, clearing her throat. "Is there a problem here?" Ronnie asked, cocking a hip to the side and crossing her arms over her chest.
      
      The houndoom's smile faded, but bounced right back. "Not at all, ma'am. We're just-"
      
      "Yes, there is," the braixen cut in. "He's been getting fresh with me for what feels like hours, and he absolutely refuses to leave me alone until I hand over my phone number! I tried to take it in stride, but I have a thesis to research and I won't be harassed like this anymore!"
      
      "Hey, harassment is an incredibly strong word," he said.
      
      "Strong and accurate!" she shot back. "You're lucky I'm just asking a librarian to sort this out and not bothering the cops."
      
      "Are you listening to this?" he shrugged off, looking to Ronnie. "I just want to talk, and she's threatening to call the police! This is completely ridiculous."
      
      Ronnie huffed, lips curling into an unimpressed frown. "Yes, this is ridiculous." She soundly wiped the grin off his face by adding, "Ridiculous that you're even allowed out of the house without a leash. You need a lesson in manners, sir, but the most I can do is ask you to leave."
      
      The houndoom dropped the suave act and snarled angrily. "Yeah, ask me, not force me! You're just a librarian, tubby; I'm a lawyer!"
      
      The raichu sized the man up and adjusted her glasses. Well groomed fur that looked like it came from a salon, skinny in the way only strict dieting and health food can provide, horns so well filed that they looked sculpted, physically fit in a "I have a gym membership" way, obsessively pressed clothes, even a gold watch; he certainly looked like he had a lawyer's salary. "Then you should know that 'harassment' is another way to spell 'lawsuit,'" she said evenly, frown deeper.
      
      "Pfeh, yeah, and do you know how hard harassment charges are to prove? I'd have a much easier time suing you for discrimination, thanks to that leash comment." He poked her square in the stomach and huffed a light wisp of smoke. "I'm not going anywhere, you Southern hick!"
      
      The chu's frown deepened further still, when suddenly her stomach growled so hard under his jabbing finger that she could physically feel the hungry rumble. Somewhere in her brain some very wicked gears started turning.
      
      "Very well, sir. I won't make you leave," Ronnie said with a theatrical sigh, exaggerating her natural Southern accent.
      
      "Excuse me?!" the braixen blurted out.
      
      "I thought so," the houndoom said, his grin back in force.
      
      "However," she added, "you won't be able to stay in that seat. You'll have to come with me."
      
      The houndoom's smile faltered, torn between confusion and rage. "A-and why would I do that? You can't do a thing to touch me!" he spluttered.
      
      It was Ronnie's turn to grin. She wrapped her arms around the man in a bear hug, pulling him tight until he squished into her stomach, his head mashed against her huge breasts. "Oh, I must insist... it's lunch time, after all."
      
      The houndoom could barely get a word out, muffled as he was against her giant raichu tits, before she opened her mouth wide and stuffed his head in. She closed her lips around his neck while her fingers clamped down on his hips, holding his hands to his sides. The taste of well-done steak filled her mouth; not the best taste, but steak was still steak. But she couldn't dwell on it; he was frozen in shock, but it wouldn't last long. She savored what flavor she could, lapping her thick, silky tongue around his face and under his chin, before she took her first swallow.
      
      The first gulp was more than a bit awkward, even a little painful, thanks to his horns, but her meal smoothed out after she eased his shoulders and chest past her lips and across her tongue. She took a few moments to relax, nibbling on her prey ever so gently. There wasn't much flavor to savor; clothing wasn't exactly made to taste good, and his tasted more like cardboard than usual, though whatever deodorant he had on him livened up the taste a bit. Still, the act of lightly gnawing on a live catch was always lovely. It let her stomach know that food was coming. She felt less hungry already.
      
      That was when he snapped out of his shock and started to struggle, sputtering and yelling deep in her throat and kicking his legs outside. Playtime was over; Ronnie was on the clock, and if she finished up fast she'd at least be in less trouble for having lunch on her shift. She wasn't too broke up about having to rush, though, since the taste from that point was only okay.
      
      Ronnie tilted her head back and lifted her meal up at a slant, letting gravity give her a hand while she hurriedly wolfed down the rude stranger. He squirmed and kicked all the way down, but she had no time for his nonsense. She held his kicking feet together so he'd go down smoother, and pulled him in from there.
      
      She hungrily slurped up his middle and waist with casual but hasty swallows, treating him like the lunch-on-the-run that he was. It took no time at all for her lips to slide over his thighs and wrap around his knees, his struggles spirited but ultimately useless. She let go of his legs and pushed on his feet with her palm, shoving the last of him into her mouth and out of sight. With one last gentle, little gulp, she was done with him. The bulge of his paws slid down her throat and vanished behind her tits, on a one-way trip to her stomach.
      
      "Ahhh," she sighed, gently smacking her lips and putting a paw on her belly as her food slid inside. "That really hit the spot." Her tummy sagged down and swelled out an inch or two, poking out even more under her shirt. Her unwilling passenger struggled and squirmed around, but his yells and his blows were both muffled and cushioned by layers of chu chub.
      
      "Enjoy your lunch, there?" the braixen asked, visibly more relaxed in her chair. She looked a lot cuter when her fangs weren't bared.
      
      "It was okay," Ronnie said with a small shrug, giving her tubby gut a small pat. "His taste was fine, but his clothes weren't exactly gourmet. Could taste a bit of starch in them too, hate that. Starch always gives me gas - pardon a lady for saying so."
      
      "The lady is pardoned," the braixen said with an amused smile. "Thanks for getting rid of him. I really do have a thesis to work on, and school stress on top of his badgering almost made me snap."
      
      "No problem at all," she said, politely returning the smile. She held up a hand and bit back a wet belch, muffling it. "Rrp, excuse me. Good luck on your writing, there!"
      
      Ronnie turned to leave when the braixen lightly pawed her arm. "Hey, I can't let you leave without my number!" she said, a mischievous look in her eye.
      
      The raichu blushed a little, ears perked at full attention. "P-pardon?"
      
      "My number," the braixen repeated. "If you don't swing that way it doesn't have to be a date, but we have to stay in touch." She tore a corner out of her notebook and scribbled hastily before offering it to Ronnie. "Here, take it. I must insist!"
      
      Ronnie shifted her hips and took the offered number, a toothy and giddy grin on her face. "Well I'll have you know, dear, I swing any way you want! The name's Ronnie, short for Veronica but nobody calls me that. I'll call you tonight after my shift, Miss...?"
      
      "Just call me Bailey," the braixen giggled. "And I guess we will be going on a lunch date soon - as long as I'm not lunch, that is," she teased.
      
      "Oh you're way too pretty to be lunch," Ronnie said with a flip of her hand and a warm smile. That's when her current lunch managed to land a solid kick, making her grunt and hold her belly. "Urrf, excuse me! I better go hunker down and digest. Might have to finally look into new jeans, too. Men always go right to my butt, I swear."
      
      "No problem at all, Ronnie," Bailey snickered, giving the raichu's round tum a teasing poke. "Just don't cancel lunch on me because of a stomach ache, got it?"
      
      "Would take more than food to keep me away, sugar," she said with her best flirtatious wink.
      
      She could hear Bailey giggle as she turned and sauntered away, a little extra swing to her hips. The extra sag in her stomach pulled down her pants ever so slightly, showing off the crack of her curvy ass under her tail. She pulled her jeans back up with a wiggle of her hips, exaggerating the sway of her butt for Bailey's benefit. A little teasing between dates was always fun, especially after a meal.
      
      It didn't take long for Ronnie to get back to her post, Bailey well out of sight behind rows and rows of books. Her full tummy swayed back and forth with each step, hanging over the waist of her tight jeans and under the hem of her shirt. Her meal's struggles gave her gut a little extra wobble, muffled curses still coming from her belly through her pounds of pudge.
      
      Ronnie let out a lewd burp behind her hand, patting her soft belly with the other. "Oh settle down in there, it's not like you're the first guy to go to my rai rump," she lightly scolded. Her meal of course didn't listen, or perhaps didn't hear through all the chu chub. Didn't matter much to her. She flopped back into her seat behind the help desk, her wobbling belly settling into her lap, before she buried her face back into her horror novel.
      
      Tick tock. Grrrgle! Tick tock. Glorp! Tick tock. Grrrrn...