Maybe it's the lingering morning grogginess, or her current frustration with her pokémon's willfulness, or the unfed stomach in her exposed midriff distracting her, or something about the surprisingly appetizing smell of Fritz' spit all over her face... maybe it's a little of all of them.
Whatever the reason, for the first time since getting him Paige looks at her pokémon not as a pet or companion, but as a prospective meal. She likes what she sees - a born and raised housepet of a Furret, muscles soft and fatty from a lazy and well-fed life. A long, tube-shaped body already clutched from one end, ready for an easy-access start to voring. The copper-haired teen flushes as she thinks about gulping the big meat noodle down like a snake, swallow after swallow as his dick sprays and spasms until it's swallowed, too.
The teen feels her jeans tighten as the flaccid cock drooping a foot down one of her pants legs starts to engorge with arousal, and a hot wetness gushes between her legs.
"You sure do like licking me huh Fritz," Paige says to the Furret still slobbering over her lips before she surprises him by giving him a lick back, "well it's not the same thing you're tasting, but I think I can see why you're so obsessed - you must think I'm delicious!"
But even as she thinks about eating Fritz, her own words make her think about the reverse. About her cutely gluttonous Furret Fritz slathering her with more and more of his slobber before yawning his maw wide and starting to gulp her down. Of his whole body deforming around hers as she's consumed, bloating the pokémon's belly to obscene levels before she's digested and shat out. Of how deliciously dangerous all things vorish are once the un-reformable pokémon come into the equation. And in the darker parts of her mind, where sad thoughts inspired by her bullies live, Paige wonders if she might not prefer the sexually gratifying release of a vorish death inside a beloved pokemon.
Her belly rumbling again, the teen herm gives her pokémon a gentle shake.
"You hungry too Fritz," she starts asking in earnest before her question's rendered rhetorical by a tummy rumble so fierce she can feel it through her grip on the Furret, "well I guess that answers that... hm..."
As Paige considers what sort of reckless thing she's going to do with her sudden spurt of 'fuck it I don't care about the consequences' energy, she feels another slimy slap against her shins.
Looking down she gives a much more considering look to the hefty Furret-dick... and the big furry balls shifting and gurgling beneath them.
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