“Please Wolfie don’t do this, haven’t I been kind to you over these few weeks, haven’t I kept you warm with my body and snuggled up to you.” Your pleading comes out just as her furry paws lift you off the floor. She brings you to her face and looks you over like you’re a piece of meat, if she had salivary glands they would be pumping spittle into her mouth.
“True, you did treat me nicely and your body was warm at night, but did you ever feed me?” Wolfie asks the rhetorical question.
“But I didn’t know you were alive and besides, you don’t have a throat,” you throw back at her, hoping that if you present the evidence she’d let you go.
“Did you ever ask me if I was alive?” The question would seem ridicules under different circumstances, but when you’re about to be eaten by a plush she-wolf, logic takes a vacation.
“And I may not of had a throat back then, but now take a look,” She opened her jaws and behind the cloth fangs and stuffed tongue was a sudden decline that ended with a seemingly bottomless hole that could just about fit you.
“Please, I’ll get you some ice cream or if it's meat you like I have a steak in the freezer. Why don’t you grow me back and I can go heat it up for you?” Of coarse as soon as you returned to normal size, you’d run out of the apartment, clothes or no clothes.
“Mmmmm, steak sounds nice, but we got a slight snag to that plan. I can’t grow you back, ever.” These words make you slump in defeat; there was no way to return to your original size and escape this wilily wolf.
“Don’t look so down, We can have lots of fun with me eating you over and over again with my magic and don’t worry about your life, I can take your form and inform all your friends and family on how your moving out of the country. We can stay together forever.” The toy sounds genuinely serious about the idea of you staying with her forever. That’s good because it means she doesn’t plan to kill you, bad because spending your life with a toy wasn’t what you were planning to do after collage.
“Lets stop talking and get to the eating. Don’t fret about being killed inside me, plushys’ can’t digest food even if they want to.” She made a girlish giggle and brought you to her open mouth. You didn’t care if you weren’t going to die, being ingested by a toy was not something you wanted.
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