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Dogs Chase Squirrels 11 - Predator
🕑 Added 2020-04-04 18:00:03 +0000 UTC(Note: This one gets a bit personal for me, as I explore a facet of myself I didn't think I possessed until very recently. It might get a little personal for the next episode or two, so fair warning!
Anyway. Back to the show!)
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Camelia stared at her milkshake, her hands wrapped around the cold glass cup. Unusual as it might have been to order a milkshake in winter, she couldn’t deny that it was incredibly delicious. The squirrel woman sitting across from her gave her a smile as she mirthfully enjoyed her own vanilla concoction.
“I told you this place was awesome, didn’t I?” Irene beamed as Camelia gave her a sheepish smile, nodding once. The ice cream shoppe itself was rustic, with all the proper decor of something out of the thirties, even down to the cups. Everything about the place screamed authentic, all the way down to the old-school signs hung up on the walls, advertising a variety of treats from before the war, and even a few during it.
“You did. I’m sorry I sounded so skeptical,” Camelia said between sips of her milkshake. She was drinking it unusually fast.
“You’re forgiven. Besides, ice cream is good any time of the year.”
“No arguments here.” Camelia shivered a little, trying to mask how cold she felt. The interior felt no warmer than it did outside, and her milkshake was doing little to help. Irene looked up from her own glass, patting the empty space next to her on the bench.
“You look cold. Come on over.”
Camelia couldn’t help but blush. “Well, if you insist.” Taking the cup in her hands, the Labrador slid onto the bench next to the squirrel, wagging her tail to and fro. “Good thing there’s room for both of us.”
“For now,” Irene said, licking a stray drop of cream off her lips. Camelia’s chest fluttered as she returned to her milkshake, her eyes watching Irene’s every move. Once the squirrel had drained the cup of most of its contents, she stuck her fingers inside, pulling out the maraschino cherry from the pool of whipped cream it rested atop of. She dangled the fruit by its stem, staring at it with half-lidded eyes.
“The cherry is always my favorite part.” She brought that cherry up to her open mouth, dropping it inside, stem and all. Her mouth swished as she rolled the red orb around, letting out a triumphant hum as she brought the cherry back out with her tongue, a knot tied in the stem. Camelia blushed all the brighter, the insides of her ears clearly turning red.
“Oh, goodness, you can actually do that?” Camelia whispered aloud, trying not to sound flustered -- and failing. Irene gave her a wink as she plucked the cherry back out between her fingers.
“Yep! Just like riding a bicycle. You never truly forget once you know how.” The squirrel continued eyeing the cherry, looking sideways at the Labrador, ready to put her plan into motion. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Camelia looked around the parlor; outside of a single employee wiping the counter down with a wet washcloth, the parlor was otherwise empty. “Your secret looks pretty safe to me.”
“Good. I have to be careful with this one, it’s a doozy.” The squirrel waved the cherry by its knotted stem. “Whenever I eat the cherry, I like to pretend I’m giant, and this little fella here is someone much smaller than I am. And they’re just begging to be eaten.” Her grin widened.
A look of shock crossed Camelia’s face, her eyes squinting behind her glass. “A-are you...are you serious?”
“Yep. And this little guy looks absolutely delicious.” Irene’s maw opened wide, tongue lolled out as she placed the cherry atop her tongue, her index finger sliding it back until it was out of view. Her lips closed as they curled back into a smile, before tilting her head back and performing an audible swallow. A small lump could be seen traveling down the ruff of her throat, vanishing as she swallowed again. When she opened her maw, the cherry was gone.
“Oh. Oh my. Did you just...swallow that cherry without chewing it? You’ll choke if you do that.” Camelia was talking faster than usual, but she couldn’t help herself. Not so much at the act Irene was mimicking, that she made it look so...sexy.
“I could chew, but chewing someone tiny makes an awful mess. Besides, it’s a lot more fun when they’re squirming in your mouth, fighting back as you press them against your palate. It’s exquisite.”
“I...I see.” Camelia looked around nervously, trying to find the words. She didn’t know this side of Irene existed, not at all. She should have been repulsed by it; eating other people was wrong. Cruel and unusual, and not to mention illegal. Yet Irene made it look playful, and downright delectable. Her tail wagged faster, despite her abashed expression. Irene’s grin only grew wider.
Okay, Irene. It’s now or never. Time to see what really gets this predator going.
“Wanna give it a try?” Irene said jubilantly. Much to the canine’s surprise, Irene had slipped her fingers into her glass, extracting the cherry and wagging it by the stem in front of her.
Camelia hesitated. “I...I don’t know, Irene. I just...I don’t know if I can see a cherry that way.” She looked down. “You know, like a little.”
Irene studied Camelia’s face for a moment, tilting her head slightly. Despite her unwillingness, something in her voice betrayed her body language. If the squirrel was going to pry an answer out of her, it needed to be now.
“You said ‘like a little’, didn’t you?” Irene’s grin widened as Camelia realized what she had just said, gasping as she placed a hand to her lips. “I’ve never heard you refer to anyone smaller than you like that.”
“Er -- I mean, I...I didn’t --” Camelia stammered to find the right words, which brought a chuckle out of the squirrel, her large tail raising up in excitement.
Bingo. There she is.
“It’s all right. I know exactly how you feel. You’re nervous about giving in. I felt the same way you did, for way too long. It’s not good to hold it in. Sometimes you need an outlet.”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong, but...another person? I don’t think I could do that -- actually eating someone.”
“Hmm. Well, if it helps you feel any better, I’ve never eaten anyone myself. Not once.” She hummed a bit. “Okay, almost once, but I don’t want to get into that right now. He tasted terrible, anyway.”
Camelia blushed again, looking down at the table. Irene was quick to catch her reaction, and latched onto it.
“I mean, if we’re being honest, eating someone isn’t something you take lightly. For one, it’s basically murder. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been that desperate for a snack. But fantasy and reality are two very different things, Camelia.”
“I know that, but --”
“For me, it’s all about the thrill. The rush of committing such a terrible taboo. You’d never act on it, but...you know that you could, because you’re bigger than they are.”
Camelia closed her eyes, a small smile spreading on her lips as she nodded. “Well, you’re right about that much. Being big does make me feel powerful. And, I guess since we’re sharing secrets, I should share one of my own.”
“Oh, did I finally earn the ‘pick my date’s brain’ honor at long last?” Irene grinned eagerly, causing the canine to chuckle.
“Oh, stop, you’re the worst. But it’s not fair for you to share your secrets while I keep mine to myself.” She took a deep breath. “Most of the time, let’s say, 95 percent, I’m kind. Gentle. A little mischievous, perhaps, but I’d never hurt anyone. I’d feel so guilty knowing I caused someone genuine harm.”
“And the other 5 percent?”
“Well...it’s just as I said. I feel powerful. Dominant. I’m big, and I know it, and I want others to know it as well. I want people to find me a little bit scary.” Camelia shuffled in her seat. “It’s...kind of a turn-on.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. Just think about it. You’re walking down the street. Those cute feet of yours so large you could crush a car with ease. Forcing people to watch your step as you maneuver through their crowded little streets. All those buildings barely coming up to your chest...or your waist.” Irene licked her lips again. “I know you’d never hurt anyone, Camelia. But I’m pretty sure you can think of at least one person who you’d love to swallow down. No punishment, no repercussions. Just you and them.” She bounced the cherry in front of the Labrador once more, her eyes opened halfway as she eyed the fruit with purpose -- and hunger.
“Actually...I can think of a few people off the top of my head,” Camelia said wryly, raising her hand to take the cherry. Irene pulled her hand back when she tried.
“Whoa, not so fast! Your first time should be special. Let me feed it to you. You just focus on enjoying yourself.”
“Alright,” Camelia replied. “Guess it can’t hurt to indulge that 5 percent once in a while.”
“Good girl.”
Irene raised the cherry above Camelia’s muzzle. She closed her eyes, opening her maw nice and wide, a small string of saliva separating from her tongue and the roof of her mouth, full of shiny white teeth. Irene slowly lowered the fruit into Camelia’s waiting tongue, letting the fruit rest there before Camelia slowly closed her lips together. She smiled, letting the fruit roll around against her tongue, savoring its flavor and texture, trying to envision it as someone being bowled over, pressed against her teeth, never biting down, but making sure they knew their place. Mimicking Irene’s motions, she slowly tilted her head back, allowing the cherry to slide into the back of her throat, before she swallowed indulgently. The cherry quickly disappeared down her throat and further inside. Her eyes still closed, Camelia slowly licked her lips, letting out a small moan of satisfaction.
“So? How was it?” Irene said. Camelia opened her eyes, almost as if waking up from a dream.
“Wonderful,” she said quietly. “I felt...strong. Like I was in total control.”
“Good,” Irene said, leaning forward to kiss the Labrador on the forehead. “I knew you had it in you. You’re a natural predator.”
“A predator.” Camelia played the word over and over in her mind, her expression souring with each repetition. “I...I’m not sure I like being called that.”
The squirrel saw Camelia’s expression decline -- an expression of confusion and hurt.
Shit.
“Whoa, don’t misunderstand me,” Irene said. “There’s nothing wrong with being a predator. I mean, you’re a dog by nature. Don’t dogs love to hunt?”
“And just what are you implying?” Camelia’s voice seemed to shake a little. “You’re making me sound like a monster!”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “That’s...that’s not what I meant, Camelia,” Irene replied, flustered. “It was just a cherry. No one got hurt.”
“So what? I actually gave in. You made me think about actually eating someone. Killing someone. Oh, God.” The color drained from her face as the realization that she gave into her primal nature hit her, hard. “I...I’m sorry, Irene. I think I need to go home now.”
“Camelia, wait.” Irene reached for Camelia’s hand, only to feel her pull it away, holding it with her other hand. She looked at the squirrel, trying to keep her voice from breaking.
“Please. Just...I need some time alone. Thank you for the milkshake.” Camelia shuffled toward the door as fast her legs could carry her, avoiding eye contact with the employee as he waved farewell. A ringing of chime bells followed her exit, leaving Irene and two nearly-finished milkshakes behind. Irene slumped back into her seat, all the energy drained from her in that instant. She gently flicked her finger against the edge of her cup, clicking her tongue as a hollow clink filled the silence.
“Way to go, genius,” Irene muttered to herself.
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“And you actually expected her to play along?”
Seymour admonished the squirrel behind his glass of whiskey as she looked solemnly into her own cup, having barely taken a sip. Irene’s performance had become uncharacteristically sloppy over the last few days, and their practice tonight was the worst of it. It wasn’t like her to miss her cues, even less so for her to make mistakes on her part. She didn’t even tease Frank about eating him at all -- a clear indication something was terribly, horribly wrong.
“But she was playing along!” Irene cried out. “I just can’t figure her out, Sy. One minute she’s flirty, assertive, totally in control and calling all the shots. The next, she’s this shy little wallflower. It’s like she has an on-and-off switch and I keep slamming the damn thing off, and I don’t know why!”
The jackal groaned quietly, taking another swallow of firewater. “Where’d you even get that idea in the first place?”
“Benson and I had a chat while we were taking five.”
Seymour blinked. “Wait. You took dating advice from Benson? Shit, no wonder you crashed so hard.”
Irene chirred in frustration. “Oh, shut up. Shit, she probably thinks I’m some kind of monster.” At that realization, she completely drained the contents of her glass in one shot, wincing her eyes shut as her throat burned. “Fuck. Forgot I ordered the good shit tonight. That’s gonna sting.”
“Heh, that’s my line. Normally I’m the one getting hammered way too fast. Good thing our boss is still covering our tab. For now.” Seymour looked over his shoulder at the window and outside, watching as a light snowfall began to build into a true storm. He wasn’t used to comforting Irene; normally it was the other way around. Not to mention his luck with the ladies wasn’t exactly on point, giant squirrel women included.
“Did I do the right thing, Sy? I just wanted her to open up a little.”
“Your heart’s in the right place. Not so sure about your head. I mean, have you ever asked her what she likes?”
“Um. Not really. I mean, she likes books. Coffee. Jazz, obviously. And I think she likes french fries?”
“Oh my God, you’re hopeless.”
Irene groaned. “You’re really not helping tonight.”
“Sorry. I mean, I don’t know what you’re expecting me to tell you. I’m probably the last person to ask about ‘big girl’ stuff.” The jackal waved his fingers in quotation marks before standing up, taking his drink in hand. “Maybe there’s a part of her that did enjoy doing that. But you gotta admit that actually eating somebody is pretty fucked up. More so if they enjoy it.”
Irene’s expression looked increasingly dour as she waited for the bartender to bring her another drink. “Come on, Sy. You know me better than that. I know it’s not exactly an acceptable practice. It’s why I didn’t eat that fox bastard when I had the chance, and he totally deserved it.”
Seymour visibly winced. “Shit. I thought I forgot about that night.”
Irene cursed under her breath. “So did I. Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. But you know what I mean.”
“Believe it or not, I do. It’s a fantasy, I get it. A big taboo, too. Pretty sure your girl got caught up in the moment and forgot about that.” Seymour raised his free hand before Irene could interrupt. “Yes, I know it was just a cherry. Maybe it was more than that for her. She gave into her own instincts, and that terrified her.”
The squirrel sighed as her second drink arrived. “But that’s what I don’t get. She’s practically a giantess 24/7 in her hometown, and no one bats an eyelash at it. I refuse to believe she’s this innocent little cinnamon roll everywhere she goes. There’s something deep inside her. Something dark and primal itching to make its way to the surface. I just want her to embrace that side of herself. She can do that without hurting anyone.”
Seymour let out a sigh. “Can I ask why you’re so determined to make her just like you?”
Irene reared up. “What? I’m not trying to make her like me! I want her to be herself!”
“Maybe being herself is the problem, though. Did you ever consider that she doesn’t enjoy being that person? You’re asking her to be this big, scary giantess, and maybe she is, deep down. Maybe you all are.” The jackal cringed as he realized his veiled insinuation, hoping Irene didn’t take offense. “Look, there’s nothing wrong with being yourself, but you can’t force someone to be something they aren’t -- even if they do enjoy it.”
Irene tilted her head back, eyes closed. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I tried to force her to do something she wasn’t comfortable with, and it bit me in the ass. Twice. I’m such a bitch.”
Seymour placed a hand on Irene’s shoulder. “Hey, we all make mistakes. But if you’re determined to make this work with her, you need to understand what she wants, too. I bet you’re on to something about her, but she’s gotta get to that point on her own. Give her some time, I’m sure you’ll figure this all out. Or at the very least, maybe don’t try to make her pretend a cherry is her boss or something.”
To that, Irene chuckled. “She never told me who she thought of when she did that. It could have been anyone.”
“I’m afraid to ask, but what did you think of when it was your turn?”
Irene looked at the jackal, trying to muster up a smile. “I don’t know. Could have been anyone, like I said. Maybe it was Frank.” She looked up at the jackal, her eyes meeting Sy’s. “Maybe it was you.”
Seymour flinched, stepping back. He finished his drink quickly, placing the glass back on the bar. “Okay, I think we’re done here.”
“Aw, come on, Sy, you know I only say that shit because I love you,” Irene cooed, giving him a playful wink.
“You have a funny way of showing it,” the jackal said defensively, before sighing and shaking his head. “But if I didn’t love you too, I’d have run out of here screaming.”
“I knew it.”
Seymour pressed a hand to his forehead. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
Irene gave Seymour one last nod, returning her attention to her drink. “Oh, you do. You just don’t want to admit it. But, seriously, thanks for talking with me, Sy. I know this is a bit awkward, coming to you about my relationship problems.”
To that, Seymour shook his own head. “Nah, don’t worry about it. When you’re happy, I’m happy, and that’s all that matters. Besides, you’d break my pelvis if we tried that, and God knows I can’t afford a doctor visit with my shitty health insurance.”
“Heh. Welcome to America,” Irene said wryly, raising her glass to clink against the jackal’s.
