The woman was seriously beautiful. Your thirteen years of experience have a hard time pegging her age, but it has to be seventeen or eighteen. A senior, on the cusp of college.

And a vore, obviously.

Only licenced vores dressed so whorishly. If you weren't, displaying that much tasty skin would be quite, quite unwise. The sort of mistake that got you fished out of the shallow end of the gene pool and devoured.

For the first time, you don't feel intimidated by the older vore's stunning beauty. She only looked so good, after all, because boys and unlicensed girls were both healthsome and nutritious. And their flesh always came to rest on hips and tits, not unsightfully around one's belly. Well, after they'd been completely digested anyway. So you strut past your elder sister-in-spirit, your very first meal submissively in tow behind you.

It's a surprise, then, when Keith collapses to his knees and wraps his arms around the other vore's mircoskirt-bared legs.

“Cynthia!” He shouts as he clings to her, “Save me! She's going to eat me!”

“Hey! I'm gracious enough to grant you a private devouring and this is how you repay me?” You say.

Cynthia just giggles. “Don't worry, kiddo,” she says. “I'm not going to keep you from your meal.”

Keith's eyes snap up to meet hers. “You're not!” He exclaims. “Cyn, I thought you liked me?”

“I do like you, idiot,” Cynthia replies, lightly flicking his forehead. “But we've been neighbours forever. If you were interested in me then you would've asked me out years ago.”

“I was intimidated,” Keith blurts. “You're incredibly beautiful. You go on lots of dates. And you come back from all of them with your belly bulging.”

“That's not true. I only eat the ones who're bad dates,” Cynthia stresses.

“So how many of your ex's are still breathing, hmm?” Keith asks.

“Well... none of them,” Cynthia admits. “They all pissed me off, eventually. And being angry makes me hungry.”

“So what the hell kind of life is that?” Keith snaps. “Living in perpetual fear of your hair-trigger temper?”

“The kind of life you're never going to know, 'cause you're about to be eaten by a little girl!” Cynthia snarls back.

Keith sags like a puppet with his strings cut, and lets out the cutest racking sob. “Dammit,” he whispers. “Dammit all hell anyway.”

“If you're done with my dinner,” you ask, “can I take him home and eat him now?”