Cathy and Rocky
By Strega

It was cuteness that got Cathy eaten. As a college student working nights at the Project's ring-shaped buildings outside Denver she'd had all the briefings, watched all the safety films.  She knew that no matter now inoffensive or friendly the animals in their glass-fronted pens might appear, she was never to enter. Her job was to vacuum the halls and clean the public areas.

But she had the combinations to some of the door keypads since sometimes an animal was kept in an office-like space before a checkup or public visit and those she had to clean - if there was no animal present. The first time she broke the rules she got away with not even a scratch or a reprimand.

It was Otto the otter that time, a four-hundred-pound water weasel too gentle to chase down contestants on that horrible pay-per-view show the Project made. He was in one of the offices that night and Cathy went in, accustomed to seeming him sleeping or swimming in his wooded pen and thoughtlessly sure he was harmless.  And he was.  He just wuffled at her and let her pet him before going back to sleep in his big round pet bed.  Otto had no wish to mate with her and no desire to eat her, being too good-natured for the latter and simply uninterested in the former.  She didn't know that he had indeed eaten a human once, but only because that woman quite deliberately fed herself to him. Otto was too gentle a soul to pull her down and rape her and not predatory enough to get her head in his jaws and swallow her struggling body whole, despite the Project's earnest efforts to train him to do just that.

Since she didn't end up as a bulge in an otter's midsection and, if anyone had reviewed the security camera footage they didn't say anything, she assumed that this one rule could safely be broken. Unfortunately there were other cute preds-in-training in the building and some of them weren't safe at all.

Other buildings in the complex had thoroughly vetted staff.  No one would think of letting a college student even go into a structure that housed Zane the mink, Bearkiller the wolverine, Renaud the fox or any of the other popular and well-trained preds.  They had each eaten dozens of people and while some of them could be trusted under very specific circumstances no temporary employee would be allowed anywhere near them.

But building 7 housed either failed preds like Caesar the lion and Otto or trainee preds. It was one of the latter that caused Cathy so much trouble.

Rocky the raccoon - the Project was notorious for its unimaginative naming practices and he'd narrowly missed being called Bandit - was a gangling youth of a creature, slender and long-limbed and only half grown.  He was also over two hundred pounds of muscle and bone under the fur, very clever (though not to the extent of someone like Renaud, who could understand English and even try to talk in a “talking husky” sort of way) and very, very cute.  He had the black bandit's mask, long white whiskers, and delicate paws that were human-sized and strong but looked smaller thanks to the long fur of his wrists and calves. His innocent eyes, fluffy cheek ruffs and habit of standing up against the glass of his pen and begging for food made him a favorite.  But he was a pred in training and everyone knew not to go into his pen or “office” alone.  Everyone except a college student there to sweep the floors, anyway,

This evening he was in in an “office” waiting for a checkup the next day, curled up in a large pet bed when Cathy looked in the window.  She smiled to see the snoozing 'coon but he smile soon soured, for Rocky had overturned his food bowl and the custom-made raccoon kibble had gotten into his water and made a messy slurry on the floor.

Without a thought Cathy punched the combination into the keypad and was in the room.  She set down the bucket of water, patted the sleepy coon on the head and knelt down to clean up the mess.

There would be much discussion later as to whether Rocky deliberately made the mess to lure her in.  He certainly knew who she was and would stand up against the glass as she passed, but she had never been in the same room as the raccoon before.  All they could say for sure, viewing the security recordings, was the Rocky woke up, blinked at the ass in front of him (for the food bowl was  on the other side of the little room from him and Cathy had knelt down facing away) and stepped unhesitatingly up over her to mount.

The brush of chestfur against her rump just made Cathy mutter distractedly and wave a hand at him, but that changed when strong forepaws locked across her belly and a narrow raccoon muzzle appeared next to her cheek.  Rocky chittered and humped and Cathy let out a startled squawk as a sheath as stiff as an iron bar slid up her thigh. By bad luck she was wearing a short skirt and by worse luck the unsheathed tip of Rocky's penis slid under the seam of her panties. As though guided by some malevolent hand his tip dropped right into her pussy and by the time the startled outcry left her lips Rocky's back arched and she was stuffed full of raccoon cock.

Raccoons are hung quite long for their size and their cock is stiffened by a penis bone so prominent it was used as currency by Native Americans and to this day is a good luck charm worn around the necks of many a southerner. They are long but very thin by human standards but that first aroused thrust told Cathy that this raccoon wasn't thin at all. Rapist preds were popular on the Run and the Project was always trying to create new ones, Rocky being their latest effort. In seconds Rocky's cock was in her as far as it would go and the horny raccoon was doing his best to stuff in even more despite Cathy's efforts to wriggle free.

Rocky wasn't having any of that.  He was bigger and much stronger than his latest unwilling mate and though she wasn't tied up and presented to him for his pleasure the way the others had been his first view of her had been much the same. The others had tried to squirm free too and Rocky clung tight to Cathy's back, humping rhythmically and pausing every few seconds for an instinctive jackhammer-quick bout of thrusting. Rocky knew all about masturbation and had a stuffed raccoon toy almost his size the cleaning crew called “Miss Sticky” for how he left it but he was a young and healthy raccoon and the only living thing he'd ever fucked was human women.  Presented with her ass he'd been instantly aroused and Cathy yelped and squirmed as he pistoned in and out. Rocky held on, trapped her against the floor and kept right on thrusting.

As horny as he was the fact that she was dry and unwilling wasn't enough to stop him. Rocky's back went up and down as he humped and soon enough a chattering growl bubbled up out of the raccoon as he reached climax.  Cathy protested, sure she knew what was about to happen, but her efforts to escape were no more successful than before and with a last few thrusts the big raccoon spent himself in her. Spurting raccoon cum moistened her insides and for a moment she almost enjoyed herself.  Rocky was better hung than her boyfriend and almost seemed to purr into her ear as he came. The paws slipped away from her belly and rather to her surprise the raccoon sat back, letting her squirm free at last.

“Bad!” was her first exclamation as she climbed to her feet.  “Bad coonie!” By all rights she should be running, screaming, calling the police.  But it wasn't as though a man had raped her.  She had bent over in front of a horny raccoon and he had done the same thing a dog would have.  And Rocky was so cute!  He blinked his beady eyes at her and reached out in a pleading way as though for forgiveness.  What she should have done was left.  What she did do was sit down next to two hundred pounds of raccoon and smile as his clawed hands felt her hair.

Cathy looked around to see if anyone had seen it happen, but it was midnight and there was no one outside the floor to ceiling window. If there was a camera she didn't see it (she knew they were out in the hall, but the ones in the 'offices' were well concealed) and she petted the big raccoon as she recovered. She'd never watched the Run show, she just knew that animals ate people, but she'd also heard that some of them were trained to have sex with people too.  Not knowing that one led almost inevitably to the other was a bit of knowledge that Cathy badly needed but didn't have.  Instead of leaving, she smiled at the cute coonie, realized she was actually a tiny bit aroused, and let her hand slip down his furry belly.

Rocky's beady eyes widened as her fingers gripped his sheath and though he had spent himself not five minutes before his instant reaction was to thrust against her hand. His penis bone kept his cock stiff even in its relaxed state and as her fingers squeezed the fur and skin in against his shaft he swelled hard once more.  Project employees had secured semen samples from him this way before and he leaned into the thrusts but paused in confusion as her face dropped into his lap.  This had never happened before and it was a confused but horny raccoon who unsheathed into her mouth.

Full lips, a willing tongue and a hand pumping his sheath up and down where it covered the root of his cock soon rid him of his confusion and Rocky's handlike forepaws gripped Cathy's shoulders as he tried to thrust into her mouth. She managed to stop that by sliding her hand down against his balls since she didn't want to swallow a ten-inch raccoon cock and Rocky eventually just stood there chittering, his paws gripping her shoulders tight as she sucked. His tail rustled as it swiped back and forth across the tiled floor and the smell of raccoon filled her nostrils. Never in her life had Cathy imagined doing anything like this but Rocky was well hung and willing and her free hand slipped under her skirt so she could finger herself as the taste of raccoon cock filled her mouth.

She would never be able to tell anyone, she knew.  With the exception of the very few animal humanoids the Project had made, interspecies sex was still against the law almost everywhere. And this would have to be their only meeting. Well hung Rocky would make an excellent lover but it was a risk staying in here even long enough to suck him off.  Sooner or later a security guard would do his rounds and if he found her with a raccoon cock in her mouth or pussy she'd lose her job. The Project paid well even for menial work like cleaning hallways -

Rocky growled and humped, and the taste on her tongue changed.  He'd lasted a lot longer this time but it was about to happen.  Cathy's fingers dug into her pussy as she shuddered and she let the raccoon's cock slip into her mouth until the tip pressed against her throat. Just as she did Rocky let out a rattling growl and gripped her shoulders tight. The tight seal of Cathy's lips kept things neat and a whole bunch of potential baby raccoons slid down her throat in a warm glutenous mass as she swallowed.

“There you go,” she panted, having beaten the raccoon to orgasm by perhaps ten seconds.  “Good coonie.”  She watched his furry face approach, aware of a trickle of semen that had escaped her lips, and raised her head to meet him.  It would be the first time she'd ever kissed a raccoon, she thought.

But Rocky, face to face with her at last, was remembering his training.  There was never, ever just one person in his room with him, saving only one situation. If there was someone - until today, always someone tied up, sometimes face down on the floor, sometimes draped over a hassock - in his room alone with him, it meant he could mate with that person as many times as he wanted. They would squirm and complain, just as this woman had at first, but he could have his way with them until his lust was sated.

Sometimes he was given a human only partly in his room, the rest on the other side of a low archway.  If they were presented rump-first, he'd mate.  Face first meant only one thing.  He was supposed to eat them. And since he had a checkup the next morning he hadn't been fed the day before. He was hungry, and here was a meal.

The grip on Cathy's shoulders was suddenly painful as the young raccoon pulled her closer, and the narrow muzzle coming near to kiss her suddenly parted in a fearsomely wide yawn. There was no time to cry out or struggle free; Rocky pushed his jaws down over her face and swallowed, and suddenly everything was dark and damp as Cathy's entire head became a bulge in the big raccoon's neckfur. There was a scrape of fangs along her spine as the muzzle slipped down between her shoulder blades and Cathy's horrified paralysis turned into a desperate struggle as Rocky began to work his jaws over her shoulders.

The raccoon was looming over her, jaws gaping as his cheeks began to take in her shoulders.  His cute little forepaws gripped her upper arms in a vicelike grip, pinning them to her sides, and Cathy was suddenly aware of how strong Rocky was. She simply couldn't free her arms from that grip and they only moved to let his maw engulf another inch of her. Her face slipped into the suffocating wetness of his gullet as Rocky swallowed again, his throat muscles gripping her head and easing her deeper.  There was an unnatural creak as his ribcage expanded to allow her face in and through the slimy, tight-gripping throatskin came the excited beat of the raccoon's pulse. She slipped a fraction deeper still and close ahead was an awful gurgle that could only be the raccoon's stomach, churning up acid for the meal about to arrive.

When his cheeks were around her elbows he shifted his grip to her wrists and tugged, using his weight and strength to pull her from a seated position onto her belly. At once Cathy began to kick and squirm, trying to get her feet under her.  Rocky was strong but his jaws were so stretched they didn't have much grip and if she could get his forepaws to let go she would slide right back out of his gullet. It was not too late to save herself if she could just get her feet under her and kick him away.

But this wasn't the first time Rocky ate a struggling human and as she tried to reason out a way to stop him from swallowing her alive he was taking advantage of that experience.  Yes, this one was free and not tied up, so she could struggle more, but the effort required was the same: get his jaws over her and gulp her down as she tried to slip free. There was a way he could take advantage of her struggle that he knew from previous meals and he used it.  He gripped her wrists and swallowed with all his might to keep her from sliding back out as he backed up, kicking the food and water bowls out of the way until Cathy, at one point up on her knees, collapsed forward onto her belly.  

As soon as that happened Rocky stepped briskly forward and Cathy's knees slid along the wet, kibble covered floor until they ran into the wall. Her feet kicked reflexively against the painted surface as she tried to understand what he was doing. It didn't really matter that she soon realized what was happening; now it really was too late.  With her knees planted against the wall Rocky stepped slowly forward.  The column of her spine held her more or less straight and as the raccoon maw approached the wall there was simply nowhere for her to go but down his throat. It was an enormous meal but not the largest he had ever had and inch by inch Cathy was ingested.

There was a slide of wet skin over Cathy's sodden shirt, the scrape of fangs along her belly and the grip of swallowing muscles as her breasts slid into Rocky's gullet. Her face pushed past a tight  obstruction in his gullet and into the looser folds of his stomach, and as her neck followed it in and the waiting digestive juices began to sting her face Cathy let out a despairing cry. Half swallowed, she tried to slide her knees apart to keep the raccoon from just swallowing her in one long go but that resulted in her butt pressing against the wall and in less than a minute the raccoon simply pushed himself over her until her torso was completely inside him and her butt peeked from his wide-open jaws.  Her forearms, trapped to her sides now by his gullet and cheeks, protruded on either side of her butt and her fingers scrabbled for something besides a smooth painted wall to grip.  Anything at all would do as long as it kept her from being swallowed.

Rocky had gotten all the help he needed from the wall and sat up, grunting with effort. His thin-stretched neckfur bulged oddly as the shape of her breasts slipped by beneath it, and his whole body swelled like an overripe fruit as a meal two-thirds his size made its way down his throat. There was nothing left of Cathy now but a set of kicking legs, the raccoon's upward-tilting jaws stretching wide on elastic tendons as her rump and the sex he had so recently mounted slipped past his fangs and into his gullet. Bit by bit his jaws constrained the legs, pressing them together until Cathy could only flutter-kick like a swimmer. With her head and upper body in his stomach and even her hands in his throat now the only hope was that she was just too large a meal and that Rocky would have to retch her back up rather than finishing it.

But though the raccoon's bellyfur was already as tight as a drumskin he knew from experience he could handle even more. Clawed forepaws walked their way up the wall as he stood up, letting gravity push her deeper, and the almost frictionless slimy walls of his gullet did little to stop her descent. He swallowed, his jaws creaking a bit closer to their usual shape as her hips went down his throat, and she was gone to the knees.   With a curious undulation of his muzzle, tilting it up, then down and sliding it forward, he managed to get his nose all the way to her heels. And when he finally sat up on his hindpaws there was nothing but a set of stockinged toes projecting from either side of his mouth, her shoes having been lost in the excitement.  Rocky gripped the bulge in his neck where her knees thrashed about beneath the fur, pressed it downward, and swallowed as the toes slipped past his lips. It took three more gulps to work the entirely of the bulge past his neck and down into his body and only after a last straining gulp was he finally able to relax, narrow muzzle closed at last and seemingly unchanged by the experience save for the grotesque, twitching swelling that deformed his torso.

In the slimy cavern of his belly Cathy still struggled, though she was exhausted by the long fight against the raccoon. Quite a lot of air had gone down his throat with her but it was hot, bile-scented and thick with humidity. It was wet, slippery fur-wrapped sauna she found herself in and though the inward-pressing muscle and bone kept her from achieving any real leverage she tried desperately to escape. The hole she had arrived through was sphinctered shut somewhere nearby and she slid her hands through the stinging slime to try to find it, hoping to slide her hand up his throat and provoke the raccoon to regurgitate her.  Why a single arm would do that when he'd swallowed her entire body without puking she could not have said, merely struggling in wordless desperation to escape the stomach that had already begun to digest her. Thick droplets of caustic fluid trickled down the walls, accumulating in a slowly rising puddle at the bottom of the stomach that burned her skin where it touched.  Elsewhere the stuff was sticking her dress to her skin and soaking her hair. Unless she escaped very soon it would begin to eat into her, slowly turning her into raccoon chow.

She felt the him slouch onto his side, not bothering to try to walk anywhere but simply collapsing full-bellied onto the floor. He didn't need to do anything now; all the conscious work was done and his stomach would take it from here unless she somehow escaped. The vast bulge of his belly meant she could feel the bones that surrounded her above and below, the ribs, the spine, the hips, even the leg the bulge rested atop. There was not very much at all between her and freedom, just an inch or two of meat and fur.

But that was all it would take. She felt Rocky relax, settling down to digest his meal, and a great belch vented most of the air from his stomach. The walls pressed in tighter and she was just too tired to fight any more. Bit by bit she weakened and the stomach was beginning to do its awful work.  Soon now there'd be no Cathy any more, just raccoon fat and whatever he dispatched down the floor toilet in the corner of the room.  The animals were trained to use those, she knew.

Rocky burped again and as she sank into the slow gurgling darkness of digestion she felt one last bone pressing in against her. There was Rocky's penis bone, that had been in her pussy and in her mouth, and even through the fur and meat she could feel he was getting hard again. There was the faint sense of motion through the flesh as he twisted, as joints moved, and Cathy knew the gorged raccoon was reaching down to masturbate.  Maybe, if he could reach, he would curl around the bulge and suck himself off even as she slowly dissolved inside him.

“Rocky, you bastard,” Cathy muttered in the dark, then the raccoon burped one last time and she was gone.

*****

It was 8:05 according to the clock on her desk when Deirdre reached her office. That was five minutes late but there were advantages to being the one in charge of the complex.  Yes, it necessitated many late nights at work but no one was going to tell you off if you got to work five minutes late. Ten years she'd been working here, and manager of the Denver complex for the last two.  Now she was the one who told people off for being late, or fired them.  Or, occasionally, arranged for them to be digested.

A red light was blinking on her desk, which meant a priority message.  Not something important enough to wake her up, but still urgent.  She was reaching for the button when Jake, one of the senior animal handlers, popped in the door.

“Rocky ate a cleaning lady,” he said without preamble. A quick check showed that sure enough, that was the message on the machine.  Well, better one crisis than two.

It took ten minutes to clear security at the HQ and make it to Building 7 by golf cart. The fact that Jake hadn't run in the door or mention the vet told Deidre enough.  The cleaning lady was dead by the time anyone knew about it. Unless the victim was incredibly important the policy was to just let nature take its course.  Cutting the very expensive animal open was out of the question and even administering a purgative might hurt it. Typically, as in this case, the victim would not get back out of the animal the way they got in. No, they had to take the twisty intestinal route.

Sure enough, while there were two other animal handlers in Rocky's room when she arrived, they were merely taking measurements of the raccoon's distended belly and otherwise checking him over.  Rocky yawned and rather ill-humoredly climbed onto the vet's scale they had brought, his swollen belly swaying pendulously.  He waited impatiently for permission to get off, and flopped right back into the round pet bed the second he got it.  Digesting an entire human was a lot of work and by the soft, rounded contours of his gut he'd already been working on this meal for a while.

“He's up ninety-seven pounds from yesterday,” one of the handlers said.  Rocky had been awaiting a checkup in the room so they had weighed him only hours before the incident.  “Records say Cathy weighted a hundred and thirty.  So thirty pounds has already,” he nodded to the floor toilet in the corner, “Left.”

Only then did the handler see who had just arrived, snapping to something like attention when he realized who Deirdre was. “Report,” she said curtly.

It was Jake who spoke up.  “I reviewed the footage.  Cathy here,” he gestured at the fat raccoon,  “Had the combination to the room and came in around midnight because Rocky had spilled his food. When she bent over to pick it up he boned her,” He grimaced at Deirdre's expression and corrected himself.

“Mounted her that is.  For whatever reason she didn't run when he was done. In fact she gave him a blowjob and fingered herself while doing in.  When they were both done they were face to face and his training kicked in. With no one to help her he swallowed her in only three and a half minutes and then he rubbed himself off on the bulge.”

“Three times in that short a time,” Deirdre wondered.  “Aren't we a healthy young stud.” Rocky was sprawled belly-up on the pet bed and as the 'coon was too fat to clean himself properly the dried goo on his belly was obvious. As a manager she was rarely this close to the animals any more and she instinctively reached out to feel his belly. Half digested meat sloshed inside him as her hand sank into the fur and quick as a flash Rocky's clawed hand darted out and grabbed her wrist.

Even gorged he was far too strong to fight and he was reaching for her with his other forepaw  when Jake took the stun gun off his belt and snapped the safety off.  Rocky's ears pricked up as he shot a look at the handler and with that he let go of her wrist.

“Careful, ma'am,” the handler said.  “You know what we train them to do.  Even full, he'd rape you.  You might even have ended up in there with what's left of the cleaning lady.”

There was a certain...disappointed look on Rocky's furry face that made her shiver.  He knew who she was.  He knew she was important but if she'd been alone in the room he'd be pushing his cock into her right now, maybe with his jaws around her face as he began another meal. A second human meal so soon might be more than he could handle, but he would have tried. Deirdre shook it off.

“Here's the thing,” Jake said.  “This is the third time he's been in this waiting room.  Each time he's spilled his food and moved his bed,” he pointed at the big pet bed as Rocky yawned and - maybe - went back to sleep. Deirdre wasn't dumb enough to get close enough to find out if he really was.  “See the tracks in the kibble,” the handler went on.

“Did he set a trap?”

“That's the question, ma'am.  He knew the victim.  He knew her routine. He always stands by the glass looking cute when people go by.  Sometimes we do come in, but always in groups. The only people who go by the glass alone are the security guards, who are armed...”

“And the cleaning ladies.”  Deirdre looked the “sleeping” raccoon over again.  “Still think he's not any good for the Run?”

“Big as he is,” Jake said, “He's still nervous around other preds.  Maybe it'll pass at full growth but then he may get cranky, like normal raccoons. Vets say it could go either way and I'm worried he'd get into a fight, which is usually bad for ratings.” Rivalries like Bearkiller had with Renaud and with Priscilla the owl aside, predator fights weren't good business. Predators were expensive commodities and you didn't want one injured unless there was good reason and only on the rarest of occasions was one allowed to eat another.

“But I had another idea.  We've been training him to rape and eat tied-up people and some snippets of that are on our web site.  I've been reading the message boards and quite a few people are saying they'd pay money to see that happen.  Maybe a private viewing area, or if they pay enough, even be in the same room when it happens.  With the proper precautions it ought to be reasonably safe...for the viewer anyway.  Kind of like Groupie Day, but safe.”

“For the viewers anyway.  All right Jake, it's your project.  He's obviously mature enough to fuck and eat people. See what other preds we might be able to bring in to that as well.  Maybe some of our failed Run preds can still be trained to rape, or at least to eat people in a controlled environment.  All the usual wavers for any viewers before they are in the room with him.  And send the usual letter to the cleaning lady's - Cathy's - family.  Body destroyed in an workplace accident, yadda yadda.”  That was accurate enough.  “She sighed her waivers too, but just the same, send her family a check to get this to blow over.”  The press would get ahold of it, but they always did, and everyone knew it was risky to work here.

“Yes, ma'am.”

Deirdre shot another look at Rocky before leaving.  He was almost certainly pretending to be asleep in hopes she would venture close and that no one would save her this time. If Jake and the others hadn't been here she might already be in his stomach with the mush of half-digested cleaning lady. Even she wasn't important enough to cut him open if she ended up in there; she'd just be raccoon food.  And yet sleeping or pretending to sleep, if you didn't know what that bulge was, he was almost impossibly adorable. The bandit mask, the whiskers, the cute little paws.

“Cuteness excuseth a multitude of sins,” Deidre muttered as she left.