by Jacksomm Trifker

 

It was an idyllic late-summer day in Halliwell, but then so were most days in this city.

 

Halliwell, located on the coast of Phoenicks, Edouedia's southeasternmost state, is perhaps the most laid-back city in an already laid-back part of the country. A fortuitous intersection of the ocean breeze to the east and the Lake Honk eddies to the west and the Trogodonian cliffs to the south kept the city in a state of perpetual late-summer laziness.

 

But even the laziest and most laid-back cities have laws, and where there are laws there must be courts to adjudicate them, and where there are courts there must be judges. At least, that's what Judge Herman Yootts kept telling himself as he sat on a musty wooden swivel chair behind the musty wooden bench in this musty wooden room of the Halliwell Municipal Courthouse.

 

Judge Yootts had spent the past half hour in his chambers looking out his window at the late-summer sun rising over the warm ocean waves, twirling the long hairs of his powdered wig, utterly losing himself in a daydream. This was how he spent most mornings in this, his last week before retirement. And most afternoons, for that matter. The daydreams generally involved the particularly fashionable brands of sailboat whose catalogs now littered the desk of his chamber office, though occasionally they also involved the particularly fashionable bikini models who appeared with the particularly fashionable sailboats in the judge's catalog collection.

 

Not to be misunderstood - Judge Yootts loved his work. He loved the law, as much today as he had more than half a century ago when he'd first begun studying it. But there were limits to the law. You couldn't ride it out into the open ocean on a clear day, carving graceful wind-swept arcs on the aquamarine waves. You couldn't anchor the law offshore and share a peaceful and romantic dinner with your wife. You couldn't take the law out past the horizon on a calm, moonsless night, away from the light pollution of the city, and stare out at the vast expanse of the cosmos stretching from horizon to horizon. You couldn't-

 

"Judge Yootts?," said a hushed voice.

 

Judge Yootts snapped back to reality, rather miffed at having his daydream so rudely interrupted. "Yes, Baliff," he said, testily.

 

"Shall I call the next case, Your Honor?"

 

"Yes, yes," grunted Yootts, putting the daydream on hold. There would be plenty of time for daydreams next week, he sighed as he stroked his jowled chin.

 

"Calling case number zero two dash CV dash zero six-two-five, Piggs versus Wolfe, alleging violation of the Predation Rights Act of 3689," announced the bailiff in a booming baritone that echoed off the walls.

 

There was a shuffling of papers and and shoes and briefcases as the lawyers and clients prepared to begin the case, as well as a murmur from the crowd that had gathered to watch. This was the event they came to see.

 

Although the Predation Rights Act guaranteed certain unalienable civil rights to predators and prey alike, it was rare that a lawsuit filed under the law ever made it to trial. Most prior PRA lawsuits had been dismissed as frivolous, with many of these cases involving, X suing Y for "not tasting very good" or A suing B for "eating plaintiff when plaintiff didn't feel like it."

 

This was different. It was a legitimate grey area not specifically addressed in the law. It had been featured in the local newspapers and sparked a rather spirited debate over the rights of the eater and the eaten in modern Edouedian society.

 

Yootts gaveled the court to order. "Counselor," he said, when the crowd had quieted down, "you may begin your opening statement."

 

Angela Staccato stood up from her chair, though it was difficult to tell at first. Her four-and-a-half foot frame was not to be underestimated, however, as it belied the heart of a giant in the legal system. Staccato specialized in civil rights law, and had won a great many victories for Edouedia's ethnic and species minorities. This was her first foray into prey rights, and she intended to make a splash.

 

"Your honor," bellowed Staccato, "I intend to prove that my client, Mr. Leroy Piggs, suffered a most egregious violation of his civil rights at the hands of the accused. The Predation Rights Act strictly prohibits the consumption of an individual within his or her own home. This measure was inserted into the law in order to guarantee all of us - every nano, every human, everyone in this courtroom - one space...one sacred, inviolable space, that we can be safe from predators. That space is our home. When that space is violated, when we cannot feel safe in our own home, our freedom is violated. Our inalienable civil rights become nothing but empty promises. I intend to prove that the accused, Miss Virginia Wolfe, in a callous act of devouring, deprived my client of his civil rights in violation of the Predation Rights Act."

 

New readers of this series may be a bit confused as to why Ms. Staccato was referring to her obviously alive-and-well client as having been devoured. This is in fact due to the rather symbiotic form of animal digestion that evolved on the planet Aekallia, where this story takes place. Unlike the rather barbaric system that evolved on other planets, on Aekallia predators ingest their prey whole and alive, supplying them with oxygen and other essentials while leeching nutrients and lipids from the prey's body. After a few hours, the prey is expelled from the predator's body whole, alive, and sometimes, as in the current example, feeling rather litigious.

 

"We demand full compensation for loss of his property," continued Staccato, "as well as an additional two hundred thousand Arnis for the mental and emotional distress he suffered as a result of this unauthorized, illegal act of predation and digestion. Thank you."

 

A murmur arose in the courtroom, accompanied by scattered applause. Judge Yootts angrily rapped his gavel against the dais. "Order! Order, I say! Counselor for the defendant, your opening statement please."

 

Trevor Blacksmith quickly ran his fingers through his shiny black hair before standing up and quickly adjusting his shiny blue tie. In fact, much about Blacksmith could be described as shiny, from the near-iridescent sheen of his immaculately-pressed suit to the radiantly tanned hue of his skin to the sparkling glint in his eyes. It was a look that could be achieved only though an extremely expensive tailoring and grooming regimen. This was a regimen that Blacksmith, who earned his fame and wealth representing some of Edouedia's wealthiest corporations and individuals, could well afford.

 

"Your honor," said Blacksmith, cocking his head just slightly in order to allow a beam of sunlight to reflect off one of his teeth towards the judge, "I intend to prove that the plaintiff in this case is nothing more than an opportunist, driven by a desire to make a profit - probably to compensate for his dwindling book sales. More importantly, I am here on behalf of all the predators in this country, and I'm sure that includes nearly everyone in this courtroom. The Predation Rights Act was passed to guarantee rights to predators, not prey. If we find my client, Ms. Wolfe, at fault for satisfying her most basic biological need, well, where will it end? Will we need to bring a lawyer to the deli with us when we order the nano-and-cheese on rye?"

 

"Not that I'd mind that, of course," the lawyer added, turning and winking to the politely chuckling audience. "But the principle of it - it's simply un-Edouedian. I, too, am here in defense of freedom - the freedom to eat. Thank you."

 

Yootts sighed a heavy sigh. He'd been hoping he could breeze through this last week without having to tax his brain with a major constitutional challenge. It appeared that this was not to be. With a grunt, he gavelled for order.

 

"Right," said Judge Yootts, "We'll begin the proceedings after a two-hour recess, during which we can all exercise our 'freedom to eat.'" He attempted to smile but his zygomaticus muscles, atrophied from years of underuse, simply gave up. "Court is adjourned," he said, banging the gavel fiercely as he stood.

 

"All rise," boomed the bailiff.

 

There was a general shuffling of chairs as all those present stood and watched the judge exit the courtroom. All but two, that is. For a brief moment, two people in the courtroom were eyeing each other instead - Plaintiff Leroy Piggs and Defendant Virginia "Ginny" Wolfe. They exchanged an awkward, silent gesture, each wondering how they ended up here, beginning with the day they'd first met.

---

Leroy regarded the first three or four knockings on his door with the usual callous indifference he gave to all those who knocked on his door.

 

He then found the fifth and sixth knockings positively infuriating, the seventh and eighth knockings simply unfathomable, and the ninth knocking inspired him to rise from his desk chair and give whoever it was at his front door a piece of his mind. And it was not going to be a very nice piece.

 

Honestly, thought Piggs as he stomped his way to the front door. Who in this neighborhood - in this town, even, does NOT know that he did not wish to be disturbed when was writing? Since he was always writing (or at least claimed to be), he therefore considered any knock at any given time extremely disturbing and thus completely unacceptable. He had even gone to the trouble to hang a "DO NOT DISTURB" sign on the door of his thatched cottage to further reinforce the message.

 

He reached the door, unlatched the three heavy bolts that kept the door locked, and threw it open with a vigorous rage.

Before he could release the torrent of invectives that had been pooling in his brain for the past few minutes of incessant knocking, he was momentarily disarmed by what he saw in the doorway.

 

This wasn't the usual wrinkled retiree or soliciting senior he was used to seeing at his door. This was a young woman. A rather young and quite attractive woman, in fact, in a cheerfully sunny yellow sundress and a large straw hat. Tallish, slender, and curvaceous, with the most captivating reddish locks meandering their way over her shoulders. She had eyes of an indistinguishable hazel green, and a captivatingly sincere smile that seemed to beckon anyone in a one-mile radius to come closer.

 

The momentary distraction allowed her to get in the first word, thoroughly undermining Leroy's pent-up rage.

 

"Why hello there, neighbor," she said cheerfully. "I hope I'm not disturbing you - I just moved into the house next door and wanted to introduce myself," she said, extending a dainty and well-manicured hand.

 

"I'm Virginia Wolfe, but my friends call me Ginny. Pleasure to meet you, Mister-"

 

"P-Piggs," said Leroy. "Leroy Piggs."

 

She raised an eyebrow at this. "Not THE Leroy Piggs, I take it. You know, the one with all the trashy novels..."

 

"Yes, in fact," Leroy replied. "That Leroy Piggs. I take it you're not a fan?"

 

"Oh I am. I've got the entire Desirae series in hardcover. It's by far the best trash I've ever read. You mind if I come in?"

 

"Um, no. Not at all," said Leroy, rather futilely as she had already whooshed past him and was giving herself a tour of his living room.

 

"Nice place," she said, looking around at the decor, "what is it, straw?"

 

"Thatch," he said. "I built it myself. I figured if I'm gonna live in the tropics, might as well go authentically tropical."

 

"Really?" she said. "Not bad." She turned her attention to a high shelf and noted the framed photographs on it with curiosity. "That's quite the collection of pig photos," she said, pulling down one of the framed photos and studying it intently.

 

"Well, yes. They're family portraits, in fact. I'm a were-pig, you see."

 

"Oh, you don't say?" she said, replacing the photo on his shelf. She seemed to lick her lips quite subtly at this - not the reaction he usually received. "Good to know there's another were in the neighborhood."

 

"You're a lycanthrope, too? What kind?"

 

"Guess," she said playfully, tossing her hair over one shoulder with a quick flip of the head.

 

"I'd say something rather graceful and colorful. Peacock, perhaps?"

 

"Think more mammalian," she said with an eyebrow-raised wink.

 

"Well, maybe a deer or a gazelle," said Leroy, a bit flirtatiously.

 

"Warmer," she said, smiling deviously. 'Those are two of my favorite foods, in fact. But no."

 

"Oh, uh, well," said Leroy, now beginning to sweat just a bit. "I, um-"

 

"Wolf, actually," she said, sensing the scent of fear in the air. "I do hope that won't be a problem for you."

 

"What, me? No, of course not, no-," said Leroy, beginning to panic slightly. "I mean, ha ha, wolves don't eat pigs, right?"

 

"As a matter of fact we do," replied Ginny with a bit of a shrug. "I rather enjoy the taste of pig, just so you know."

 

"Ha ha ha," laughed Piggs nervously. "Well, I hope you're not hungry at the moment, or I might be in some trouble."

 

"Yes, you would be," laughed Ginny, "but don't worry - I just ate."

 

"Oh good," laughed Piggs. "Ha ha ha."

 

"Perhaps another time," laughed Ginny, raising an eyebrow. "I'm kidding of course," she said, with a dismissive laugh.

 

"Ah, good, ha ha ha," laughed Piggs nervously. "I should be careful if you invite me to dinner, I suppose."

 

"Yes, ha ha ha," said Ginny, "yes you should."

 

There was a long, uncomfortable silence as Ginny and Leroy stared cautiously at each other. Ginny finally broke the silence.

 

"Well, I should probably go," she said. "It was nice meeting you, Leroy."

 

"Yes, likewise," said Leroy, showing her to the door, "Ha ha ha."

 

"Well, feel free to stop by anytime," she said as she stepped out the door and onto his front stoop. "I promise I'll try not to eat you up," she added with a laugh.

 

"Ha ha ha," said Leroy. "Well, I'll keep that in mind. Goodbye now!"

 

With that he quickly shut the door and latched the three locks in rapid succession. He peered out the blinds and watched his neighbor winding her way down his overgrown walkway and turning towards the white brick house next door. He couldn't believe it. A werewolf, of all things. Next door. Just a few short yards away. What was the neighborhood coming to?

 

On the other hand, he thought, his mind wandering as he watched her walking in profile up the well-groomed walkway to her own porch and unlocking her door. If he HAD to be eaten by a werewolf, he thought with a small grunt, not that he wanted to, of course. But if he had to be, well, he thought. There are certainly worse bodies to fill.

 

Ginny sighed slightly as she walked back to her house, her brain scolding itself for having been part of that ugly scene. Where were her manners? Where was her self-control? Telling the neighbor that you're probably going to be eating him was certainly not the way to make a good impression.

 

On the other hand, she thought. At least she was being honest, if brutally so. He smelled delicious, albeit in need of a good scrubbing, and in all likelihood she would be eating him at some point in the future. It was really just a matter of when, not if. She didn't see why that should put a damper on their relationship. Back in Port Rogay she had lots of were-pig and were-deer and were-gazelle friends who she consumed quite regularly, and they never seemed to mind.

 

As she unlocked the door to her house, she smiled and winked at the two eyes that stared at her through the blinds of Piggs' window. At least now there won't be any surprises when it happens, she thought.

---

"So," said Angela, "to reiterate your testimony, Mr. Piggs, you were indeed aware that you were living next to a werewolf, correct?"

 

"Yes, I was," said Leroy, trying to avoid his neighbor's bitter stare.

 

"And how was that experience for you, Mr. Piggs?"

 

"It was very intimidating," said Leroy. "I was- I was afraid to leave my house. I felt like at any moment I was gonna get attacked."

 

"Because you were threatened by your neighbor, yes?"

 

"Objection," shouted Blacksmith, standing up, "she's leading the witness."

 

"Sustained," said Yoots.

 

"Let me rephrase. Why, specifically, did you feel that way?"

 

"Well, she was making threatening statements whenever I'd leave the house."

 

"Such as?"

 

"She'd mention that I..." he blushed slightly, "'smelled quite nice today,' or looked 'particularly yummy today,' or she'd say, uh, that I looked so cute she could eat me up. That sort of thing. And there were a few times when she invited me over for dinner."

 

"That doesn't sound so bad," said Staccato. "Why did you consider that a threat?"

 

"Because she said she was having glazed pork."

 

"I see," said Staccato. "No further questions, your honor."

 

"Your witness, counselor," said Yootts.

 

Trevor Blacksmith slid his chair back from the defendant's desk and confidently approached the witness stand. "So, Mr. Piggs, you say that my client created an atmosphere of intimidation, yes?"

 

"That's right," said Piggs.

 

"By complimenting you on your appearance, or inviting you to a social engagement?"

 

"Um, yes," said Piggs. It didn't sound so bad when you put it that way.

 

"And how did you react when my client made these statements to you?"

 

Piggs gulped uncomfortably. "Well, usually I'd just laugh, or say 'very funny, Ms. Wolfe.' That sort of thing."

 

"So at no time," smiled Blacksmith, "did you indicate to my client that you found these statements threatening. Is that correct?"

 

Piggs sighed slightly. "Well, no, but I still felt threatened. When you're a prey species it's hard to take 'i just want to eat you up' as anything BUT a threat."

 

"So under no circumstances would a 'prey species' like yourself ever invite a predator to consume him. Is that what you're saying?"

 

"Well, not exactly, but under normal circumstances-"

 

"Can you recount, please," interrupted Blacksmith, "the events of Dectorus 23rd of 3701, please?"

 

Piggs cleared his throat and gulped slightly. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to answer this, but had practiced. With a slight sigh, he began.

---

It was an increasingly dreary day, rainy and windy, Piggs recalled. The rain blattered down on his thatched roof and the wind whistled ferociously through the trees. He was nearly finished with a new manuscript that was due at his publisher in a few days, and had planted himself in front of the typewriter for most of the morning in a futile attempt to break a stubborn case of writer's block.

 

Just as he was beginning to catch the faintest tinges of inspiration in the late afternoon there was, a thoroughly rude rapping at his door. He went to answer it. When he opened the door, he found a rather frantic Ginny standing in his doorway, telling him that she just heard on the radio that a tropical storm was on the way.

 

Piggs had laughed at this. While a tropical storm may certainly sound frightening to a northern newbie like Ginny, seasoned Phoenicksers like him had seen plenty of storms come and go. He'd ride thise one out like he'd rid out the rest of them.

 

He then tried to politely shoo Ginny off and shut the door, but she stopped it with her foot. "You don't understand," said Ginny. "This isn't the usual storm. They say this is the worst one we've had in twenty years. You'll be much safer if you ride it out in my house."

 

"Ha!,' said Leroy. "You mean ride it out in your stomach, don't ya? I see through yer little ruse!"

 

"No," said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "That's not what I mean. I'm just watching out for my neighbor, okay?"

 

"Yeah, well, go find some other food to hoard," said Leroy before slamming the door in Ginny's face. He laughed haughtily as he returned to his typewriter. He closed the shutters, lit a few candles, and got back to work, a look of smug righteousness winding its way across his face.

 

"I sure showed her," he thought as he chuckled to himself. "That'll learn the bitch.¹"

 

As Leroy sat at his desk, typing away at his latest tome, the storm outside grew worse and worse. For a while he managed to ignore it, but soon he couldn't help but notice just how loudly the house was creaking. He looked up and could see the ceiling swaying and bucking with each gust. Just then he heard a loud crash from the front of the house, and quickly got up to investigate. When he reached the small foyer, he was quite surprised to find that it now contained a small upside-down wooden boat lying next to the massive hole it had just punched through his thatch walls. Looking through the hole, he could see a number of other wind-whipped objects heading his way - tree limbs, street signs, roof tiles, and lots of other frightening-looking debris.

 

Leroy turned on his heels, ran back into his sitting room, and took cover under his desk as the debris slammed into his house with a cacophonous crash. He watched in wide-eyed horror as the side walls quickly became perforated by wind-flung debris, though this was rapidly becoming the least of his concerns. The support beams that held the house together were now beginning to shake loose from their lashings, and one by one they began to clatter to the floor.

 

Then, as if in slow motion, the house seemed to unravel around him. The roof lifted up, then crashed down into the rear wall, which brought the side walls crashing down on top of him. The desk seemed to explode around him, sending typewritten pages fluttering away. He tried to get up and catch some, but found his legs and arms pinned under heavy pieces of wall and desk. The winds continued to whip sand and cold rain at him, causing him to cough and choke wildly. The debris of his former house was whipped by stronger and stronger winds, and the pieces seemed to be gathering around him, over him, on top of him. Soon he was completely buried in the broken pieces, wheezing as they crushed his chest.

 

Leroy cried out in panic as the gusts only seemed to grow stronger. From all around his dark cave of debris he could hear the snapping of bigger and bigger tree limbs, and soon began to hear the thoroughly terrifying sound of trees being lifted from their waterlogged roots and crashing to the ground. His mind then wandered to the large palm tree in his front yard - the old dying one that his neighbors had been bugging him to take down. He feared that any minute now one would come crashing down on him, and began to despair at the thought of hubris finding such a morbidly ironic way to do him in.

 

Just then he heard a loud rustling of wood and straw, and watched in stunned silence as the pieces of debris were lifted off of him. He was then positively flabbergasted to see a large gray wolf silhouetted against the thundering clouds, sniffing his body furiously, licking his face eagerly.

 

"Ginny," he shouted over the wind and thundering chaos, "Is that you?"

 

Just then there was an extremely loud snap from somewhere far too close to him, and a dark shadow seemed to fall over both of them. Before Leroy had a moment to react, he felt the wolf snout suddenly clamp onto his upper body and quickly drag him away moments before a loud crashing sound thundered through the yard.

 

Curiously, the last thought to cross Leroy's mind before he passed out wasn't "oh shit I was almost killed by a crashing tree" or "oh shit I just lost my house" but "oh shit it's actually quite nice in here."

 

He woke a short while later on a strange couch in a strange room in almost total darkness. The wind and rain and thunder still rumbled outside, but it was considerably quieter through a solid brick house with a well-reinforced roof. He sat up and moaned at the pain in his - well, all over. He threw the blanket off himself and was then startled to find that he'd been stripped down to his undies, and they weren't the nice undies either. He quickly covered himself as Ginny, in her human form, walked into the room carrying some lighted candles.

 

"Oh, good, you're up. Sorry it's so dark, we just lost power. How are you feeling?"

 

"Ow," said Leroy.

 

"It doesn't look like there's anything broken," she said, sitting down next to him. "Just some nasty scrapes and bruises. You're lucky to be alive."

 

"You saved my life," Leroy said, staring wide-eyed as the memory came flooding back to him. "The tree- I'd be dead if you hadn't pulled me out of there."

 

"Yeah, you would," said Ginny somewhat scoldingly. "I told you you should ride the storm out over here."

 

"I was such a jerk to you," Leroy said, "I shut the door in your face. Said you were just hoarding food."

 

"Yes, well," Ginny looked away uncomfortably, "that thought had kinda crossed my mind, to be honest. But mostly I was just looking out for my neighbor."

 

"Well, now it's my turn to look out for my neighbor. I've been avoiding you for too long. If you want me," he gulped, "you can have me. "

 

"Really?"

 

"Really. It's the least I owe you for saving my life."

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"I'm sure. I won't run. I won't even try to escape."

 

"So you're finally gonna accept your place in the food chain?" she said, sliding up her t-shirt to reveal a soft-looking tummy. She rubbed it with her open palm, making it abundantly clear that this was what she was referring to by his "place in the food chain."

 

"Yes, well, it does look ... cozy," said Leroy, staring at the tanned skin of her belly nervously. He wasn't actually going to be inside that particular belly, of course - the belly he'd soon be in was parked in a different metazoological plane at the moment. But the symbolic value of her human belly was more than enough to get the point across and trigger his fight-or-flight response. He felt his skin beginning to prickle with nervous anticipation, felt his heart rate begin to increase, felt his nerves begin to jangle. For a brief moment, he wondered if perhaps he'd been a bit reckless in offering himself to Ginny like this.

 

By the time the thought had crossed his prefrontal lobe, it was already far too late to do anything about it, as his head and torso were already stuffed deeply into the furry blur of her transforming body. All around him was rubbery growling darkness that quickly slid from his waist to his knees and finally to his feet. He hardly even felt her teeth - just a brief nip at his toes before they entered her snout. By that time, his upper body was already in the humid darkness of her stomach, followed quickly by the rest of him.

 

Holy shit, thought Leroy as his feet popped through the tight sphincter at the entrance to her stomach. Did she even taste me?

 

Sorry came Ginny's voice in his head, That was way too quick, I know. But I've been waiting months to do that to you.

I see, thought Leroy to Ginny, after a few moments spent trying to remember which neural pathways to use. He hadn't used this form of communication in a few years.

 

Nearly all animals on Aekallia, it should be explained, are capable of some form of psychic communication with all other animals on Aekallia. This can range from very simple communication of feelings and images to rather sophisticated treatises on the philosophy of life. The major exceptions to this rule are the species related to humans, whose evolution as verbally-communicating species replaced their capacity for mental communication. Although there are a few humans and nanos and other humanoids who still retain the ability to read the brainwaves of the animals around them, the vast majority are blissfully unaware of the nasty things being said about them by the squirrels in their neighbor's oak tree.

 

Weres occupy a rather peculiar psycho-ecological niche, having the ability to communicate both verbally and mentally. Although some have embraced this ability and have become quite successful as interpreters for, say, human families and their pet dogs and cats and tyrannosauri, other weres would be much happier without having to listen to the chattering of every creature within a 100-foot radius.

 

Leroy was one of the latter type of were. He preferred to forget the whole porcine side of himself most of the time, forget the oinking and wallowing, forget how to talk without moving a vocal chord. He was perfectly happy to leave all of that safely in the metaphysical plane that stored his rarely-used pig body.

 

On the other hand, he thought as he poked around the inky blackness and tried to get his bearings in the hot, wet, slimy chamber that now encased him, he didn't have anything else to do but chat with his host.

 

I suppose I should take it as a compliment, he continued.

 

Yes, you should, came her reply, accompanied by a gleeful giggle. He could feel one of her paws rubbing him through the wall of her belly.

 

Yeah, yeah, thought Leroy dismissively.

 

So?, continued Ginny, expectantly. Aren't you gonna tell me how nice it is in there?

 

It's... cozy, that's for sure, thought Leroy. It actually was surprisingly comfortable. He couldn't quite stretch out all the way, but it wasn't too constricting either. Even the smell was - well, far from pleasant, but certainly not the worst thing he'd ever experienced. It had a slightly perfumed quality, as if she'd recently ingested one of those "tummy freshener" tablets they advertised in the newspapers. But there was also a heady, animalistic scent. Plus the remnants of whatever she'd had for breakfast, which seemed to have been some type of fruited muffin.

 

The hours grinded by slowly, with Leroy and Ginny chatting mentally as he digested. As it turned out, Ginny was a writer as well - she freelanced for a number of popular Edoedian magazines. They shared their surprisingly similar and often quite passionate opinions on literature and editors and critics - especially critics. At several times during their conversation, Leroy almost forgot that he was digesting.

 

Almost.

 

Actually, that was quite difficult to forget, as Leroy was quite literally surrounded by reminders. As time slowly progressed, he felt the specialized pores in his skin slowly open, then felt his body's excess stored nutrients and fats begin to trickle out of him, slowly, slimily, pooling in the bottom of her stomach. All around him were the sounds of Ginny's body creaking and groaning and slurping and thumping, and even through all that he could hear the whistling of the wind through the trees and the blatter of rain on the roof. Still, the overall effect was uncannily comforting.

Eventually they both dozed off, lulled into slumber in utter defiance of the raging tempest outside.

 

Leroy awoke the next morning with a start as a sudden earthquake jolted the extremely dark room he was sleeping in, and he had a moment of utter panic as he fumbled for the light switch and fouind nothing but walls of wet rubbery flesh where his lamp should be. It was at this moment that it all came back to him. He remembered that the dark room was in fact the inside of his next-door neighbor and that his actual room had been demolished along with the rest of his house. The earthquake, then, was just the rocking and swaying of Ginny's belly as she trottied around her house. He sincerely hoped she was trotting to the bathroom - he'd finished digesting hours ago and was hoping to get out soon.

Yes, very soon, came Ginny's voice in his head. First things first., she added, just as the swaying stopped. This was followed by a cascade of lukewarm water splashing in from the wall somewhere near Leroy's feet. Ahh, much better - I was parched, thought Ginny, now let's get you pooped out of there.

 

After another minute of swaying, Leroy felt the chamber begin to upend itself, then begin squeezing him from all directions. The pressure began building at his feet, and he felt his head pushed into a very tight rubbery tube. It was quite difficult to breathe in the tight chamber, a blessing given the putrid odor of the air in this part of Ginny. A powerful squeeze then pushed his shoulders into the tube and pushed his head all the way through to the exit. His head emerged from her anal sphincter and into the cold, bright world of freedom. Coughing and sputtering, he reluctantly opened his eyes, not sure what he expected to see but knowing it wasn't going to be very pleasant.

 

His expectations were far exceeded by reality as he opened his eyes to see a large brownish pile of fecal muck a mere foot from his head that he was unavoidably going to be pushed into with the next contraction of her stomach muscles. Averting his eyes from that horrid reality forced him to look up at the body of the large grey wolf, and the squirming twin bulges of his knees deforming the white fur of her belly. Just then, the next squeeze came, and he was forced headfirst into the pile of-

---

"Yes, Mr. Piggs," interrupted Judge Yootts with an anxious cough, "we all studied elementary school biology here, we're fully aware of the ins and, um, outs of the digestive process. Could you please skip forward a bit, and detail exactly what happened after the defendant, um, disposed of you?"

 

"Oh, yes, alright," sighed Leroy, flashing a quick glance at his shrugging counselor. Angela had hoped they could buy a bit of sympathy by having Leroy recount the gorier details of his ordeal, but this strategy was obviously not going to work. He continued.

 

"Well, after about half and hour showering to get all the shi--, um, stuff off of me, I got dressed and went outside to assess the damage to my house."

 

"And what did you see when you went outside?"

 

"It was a total disaster," shuddered Leroy. "The house was gone - just a pile of straw. All my papers, all my clothes, all my belongings were all over the yard, my new manuscript was completely ruined. The only thing that survived was my typewriter."

 

"And where was my client when you were assessing the damage?," said Blacksmith, pacing back and forth in front of the witness stand.

 

"She was right next to me," Leroy said, his voice cracking just slightly with emotion. "She'd changed back to her human form and was helping me salvage what I could."

 

"That sounds rather nice of her, don't you think?," said Blacksmith, raising an eyebrow.

 

"It was," stammered Leroy, fighting the urge to glance at Ginny. When he did, he found that she was staring off in another direction, trying desperately to avoid looking at him.

 

"And what happened next?"

 

"Objection," shouted Staccato, leaping to her feet. "I fail to see how any of this is relevant to the case. We've already established the nature of the relationship between my client and the defendant."

 

"Your honor, I beg to differ," said Blacksmith, throwing a calculated tooth-glint in the judge's direction. "We have barely scratched the surface. If we are to understand my client's state of mind at the time of the incident in question, it is vital that we tell the full story."

 

Judge Yoots grunted, jostling his scowl momentarily. "Alright. I'll allow it. You may respond, Mr. Piggs."

 

Leroy flashed another quick look at Ginny before continuing.

---

"Ugh, look at this shit," said Leroy, digging through the pile of straw and fallen branches and barely-recognizable debris that had once been his house. "It's going to take forever to rebuild this."

 

"I'm sorry, Leroy," said Ginny, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "If there's anything I can do to help, I-"

 

"No," barked Leroy, then added a slightly more polite, "no thank you. I built this thatch house myself, I'll rebuild it myself."

 

"You knok," said Ginny, bending down to scoop up a handful of waterlogged straw. "You might want to consider using something a little stronger than thatch." She shrugged her shoulders. "Just an idea," she added, smiling politely.

 

"Hmm," said Leroy, scratching the hairs on his chin. "You may have a point."

 

"Yes, like bricks or wood or-"

 

"Wood," said Leroy, snapping his fingers. "Of course!" He picked up a handful of large twigs that had broken off the tree that had fallen through his house. "I can build a house out of THESE!"

 

"What, sticks?," asked Ginny, raising an eyebrow. "I was thinking, you know, two-by-fours, plywood, that sort of thing."

 

"Bah, that costs money," said Leroy. "Look at all this wood I've got here for free!" He began bounding around the yard, excitedly picking up some of the broken branches littering the yard. "Imagine," mused Leroy, "a stick house!"

 

"Yeah, that'll be.. interesting," said Ginny, as non-sarcastically as she could. "Listen, if you need a place to stay while you're building your... um... stick house, you're welcome to stay with me."

 

Leroy was about to refuse immediately when he caught a glimpse of her face. Something about her sweetly pleading, puppy-dog eyes (well, puppy-wolf eyes, technically) began breaking down his usual callous emotional exoskeleton. For a moment, he forgot all about the fact that she was a fierce predator and he a rather defenseless prey and that living in the wolf's den would invariably involve numerous trips through her insides like the one he'd only just finished. For just a moment, he was touched by the gesture of raw human (well, human/lupine, technically) kindness.

 

"Alright," he said. "Thank you."

 

And so it began - Leroy moved his few surviving belongings into a spare room in Ginny's house. By day, he spent his time clearing debris and snapping tree branches and weaving them together into makeshift walls. He spent most of his nights trying to reconstruct the manuscript he'd lost in the storm, scrawling page after page of copy by hand, working from memory and from the few barely-legible pages that had survived.

On some nights, that is. On most nights - three or four times a week - Ginny found herself with a craving for pork, a fact that she'd boldly announce to him as he returned from a long day of house-building. Then there'd usually be a brief chase, followed by a brief struggle, followed by a lot of unpleasant biting and chewing and swallowing, followed by some long hours of warm, tedious darkness. On other occasions, Ginny would decide to cook him first - a most humiliating affair for Leroy. After cajoling him to sit in a pot of warm vegetable broth for half an hour, she'd force him to lie down on a large platter and let her cover him with all manner of sauces and spices before finally devouring him. Worst of all, she seemed to rather enjoy humiliating him like this. It was, she became fond of reminding him, the least he could do to repay her kindness for saving his life.

 

It wasn't that he minded being eaten, per se, he said on several occasions. The only problem, he explained one evening while he was being cooked, was that all that time spent digesting kept him from his writing. Between the hours spent building his house during the day and filling her belly at night, he was falling far behind in writing his latest book, which was already well past deadline.

 

"Oh, I understand," said Ginny, stirring the hot broth that covered Piggs up to his shoulders as he sat in the large stainless-steel cauldron. She was in her hybrid form - half wolf, half human, and twice as intimidating. Occasionally she paused to toss in some more chopped vegetables or douse him with some salt and pepper, which invariably caused him to sneeze. "I know how frustrating that must be," she said, scooping up a bit of the Leroy soup and giving it a taste. "That's why I got you a little gift."

 

"A gift?," said Leroy, raising a dubious eyebrow. "For me?"

 

"Uh-huh," she said, grinning in a way that was either mischievous or sincere - it was so difficult to tell with this face. Knowing Ginny, it was probably a mixture of both. She shook a bit more salt and some coriander on top of him.

 

"Well, what is it?"

 

"You'll find out very soon," she said, giving the soup another taste and nodding approvingly. "Right now, in fact," she said, licking her lips and beckoning him to get out of the pot.

 

With the most imperceptible of sighs, Leroy stepped out of the pot and onto the the counter. He then slid off the counter and into the extremely large stainless steel dog dish on the floor - the one with "GINNY" written on the side in bright red happy-looking letters. As he sat in the bowl, shivering in the sudden cold, she proceeded to ladle hot soup over his head,and he felt it cascade greasily over his body in great rivers.

 

As she switched into her wolf form and began gently licking him, he wondered how much longer he'd have to put up with this.

 

Months, probably, he thought. He had tons of work to do waterproofing the roof, and the interior walls were all a mess, and he was having a bear of a time finding enough sticks to complete the front porch. It'd be months that he'd be stuck here, being cared for by this kind and generous wolf-woman, making the almost nightly journey through her warm, soft, uncannily comfortable body after being nuzzled and tickled and licked by her adorable snout. Months!

 

She was working herself into a frenzy now, nipping and licking at his face, his chest, his shoulders, his arms. She pushed him onto his back, pinning him down to the bottom of the bowl, nipping harder now. He put up his arms in a feeble attempt to block, but she took it as an offer, grabbing his hands and forearms in her mouth and gently biting them, licking them, occasionally half-swallowing his hands before loosening her throat muscles and letting him extract himself.

 

After a few minutes of this, she grew tired of playing with him. In an seemingly effortless, fluid motion, she glomphed her huge jaws over his head and shoulders, her tongue lapping at his neck and chin for a moment.

She then swallowed a few times in rapid succession, working her jaws down to his waist, leaving only his naked backside and squirming legs outside her body. His upper half squished quickly through her esophagus and his head soon popped into the humid darkness of her stomach. She held him like that for a little while, her jaws gently squeezing his abdomen, as if savoring his humiliation.

 

After another minute of this, Ginny decided to finish the job, slowly gulping him down with swallow after powerful swallow, until finally just his feet were outside her toothy snout. These she held there for a bit longer, allowing Leroy's upper body to slide into the gooey confines of her stomach. He tried not to think about the muck his hands touched everywhere he placed them, or the heat, or the humidity, or the pervasive smell of stale red wine. Unfortunately, his mind was largely at a loss to find anything else to think about, so he was stuck noticing his squalid surroundings.

 

When she finished chewing on his ankles, she swallowed again - rather quickly this time, leaning back to let gravity do much of the work. His feet were pushed quickly down her throat and into her esophagus and he soon slid down the wet slimy incline to the back of her stomach, where he was quite surprised to bang his head against something hard, sharp, and somewhat metallic-sounding.

 

"Owwwww", he said, rubbing his head and trying to turn himself around. "What the hell was that?" he added, opening his eyes cautiously. He was quite surprised by what he saw.

 

It looked rather like a typewriter, with keys that glowed a faint phosphorescent green in the inky darkness.

Do you like it? asked Ginny's voice in his head. That's your gift.

 

You got me a typewriter? he asked, dumbfounded.

 

An electronic typewriter she said. State of the art. It's waterproof and everything. Do you like it?

 

But there's no paper.

 

Yes, that's what 'electronic' means, silly. she said. Use the 'Power' switch to turn it on.

 

He did, and the screen quickly lit up with green text set against a black background. The light hurt his eyes for a moment, which had already gotten accustomed to the dark. It also quite clearly illuminated the folds and ridges of her stomach lining and the piles of slimy muck he was sitting in, but that didn't capture his attention at the moment. What got him was what was on the screen.

 

It was his manuscript. All of it. Well, all that he'd managed to recover, plus all the pages he'd so far rewritten. It was all in there, in this - typewriter... thing.

 

Did you- he began, Is this- he continued. How did- he concluded.

 

I wanted to give you a head start, sweetie, I know your publisher has been bugging you about the deadline her voice cooed in his head. Besides, I want to know what happens to Desirae next. Her next sequel's not gonna write itself, ya know.

 

I - I don't know what to say, he stammered.

 

'Thank you' would be a good start, Ginny said as a peristaltic wave blorped its way through her belly.

 

Thank you, he said. You really didn't have to do this, you know. This is a really generous thing to do for a neighbor.

 

Ginny sighed at this - he could feel it vibrating through her lungs, somewhere near his feet. Oh, Leroy, she thought to him. Don't you ever think of me as more than just a neighbor?

 

You mean like-, he began but she interrupted him.

 

And more than just that mean wolf-lady who eats you all the time?

 

Leroy thought about this for a while. He'd always been very guarded in personal relationships. In fact, "guarded," would be an understatement - "moated, stone-walled, razor-wire fenced, and guarded by several military battalions and a dragon or two" would be more accurate. It was highly ironic given his chosen profession writing romance novels about decidedly unguarded people having decidedly uninhibited relationships.

 

I- he thought. I see you as... a very... good, he continued. close... he added, followed by a long pause. Friend, he concluded.

 

I suppose that will have to do, thought Ginny to him.

 

What's that supposed to mean? asked Leroy.

 

Oh, nothing, thought Ginny. Nothing at all, she added, just before breaking contact.

 

What was that about, wondered Leroy. What did she expect him to say? That he adored her? Loved her? Wished to spend the rest of his days with her? How ridiculous!

 

This wasn't some cheap, tawdry romance novel, he thought. Nor even the type of brilliantly-crafted, critically-acclaimed romance novel that I write, he quickly added. This is reality. Love don't come easy.

 

Besides, he thought as he began typing away on one of the missing portions of his novel. We're not even the same species. Well, half of us, anyway. Completely ridiculous!

 

As time passed, however, Leroy found himself growing more and more fond of the werewolf, in all her forms. There was something intoxicating about her, and not just the heavy ethyl-alcohol atmosphere he usually encountered when he was inside her. It was something about her self-assuredness, her unabashed sensuality, and her untameable wild streak. He really enjoyed talking with her, laughing with her, being with her -- even being in her.

 

He found, much to his astonishment, that he was growing to like her.

 

An outside observer, he thought, might objectively arrive at the conclusion based on his emotional state and behavioral patterns, that he was perhaps even beginning to love her.

 

And so when the time finally arrived for him to leave her house and move into his own newly-completed, stick-based domicile, his feelings were rather mixed. On the one hand, he was looking forward to having his own place again. But on the other hand, he was going to miss living with Ginny, miss their routine, miss the enjoyable time they spent together. As they carried the few boxes of his salvaged belongings into the new house, he could tell that Ginny was also having mixed feelings about it.

 

"So, I hope this doesn't change things between us," says Ginny, setting a few boxes down in the generous foyer of the newly-completed cottage.

 

'Why would it change things?," asked Leroy matter-of-factly.

 

"Well, I've rather liked having you staying with me," she said, her facial muscles trying to suppress a weep. "I know it's silly, you're just next door, but still. It was nice spending time with you, having fun with you, having you for dinner, all that. We're still going to do all that, right?"

 

"Oh, sure," he said. "You'll just have to leave the house first."

---

"'Oh, sure, you'll just have to leave the house first,'" said Trevor. "Those were your words, correct Mr. Piggs?"

 

"Um, yes. I did say that, but-"

 

"So you told my client that she was entitled to devour you any time she wanted. Is that correct?"

 

"Well, in context, it was-"

 

"It's a yes or no question, Mr. Piggs. Which is it?"

 

Leroy sighed. "Yes," he said glumly.

 

"No further questions, your honor."

---

"Miss Wolfe," said Trevor. "Kindly tell the court what transpired when Leroy moved out of your house and into his new house of sticks."

 

"Well, everything seemed alright at first. We had a good relationship, or so I thought. He still came to vist, sometimes he invited me over to his place - everything was fine, I thought."

 

"And on these occasions," said Trevor, pausing to clear his throat and shift an out-of-place tuft of hair back to its natural habitat atop his forehead, "did the plaintiff allow you to devour him?"

 

"Yes," said Ginny. "Whenever I wanted. He seemed to be enjoying it as much as I was."

 

"And then what happened?"

 

"It all started to change after a few months. He started being more... distant. He stopped coming by, stopped inviting me over."

 

"I see," said Trevor. "And was any explanation given for his change of heart?"

 

This last phrase stung Leroy just a bit as he listened uncomfortably from the plaintiff's seat. He hadn't really thought about it that way - a change of heart. It had been more... well... an encroachment of cold, hard reality, really.

 

It would've been a lie had he said he no longer felt anything for Ginny in those months. It was just - well, he had more time to reflect. And the undeniable fact remained that they were fundamentally different beings. She was a werewolf, he was a werepig. Yes, they were both half-human, but their other halves were fundamentally different.

 

What would his fans think? What would his friends think? What would his rather conservative family think? What would werepig society think? He'd be shunned, vilified, a pariah in his community.

 

He couldn't imagine that he was alone in this - surely her werewolf friends and relatives would feel the same way. Species pride is species pride, after all.

 

It was one thing when he'd been living with her out of necessity - their little fling, whatever it was, had been a secret.

 

But now, now that he was back on his feet, with his own roof over his head, what would their relationship become? She didn't really expect them to go public, did she?

 

And so he began to respond to Ginny the only way he knew how - with passive-aggressive avoidance. He stopped going over to her house, stopped inviting her over his, started running away more when she tried to catch him, and started fighting back more when he was caught.

 

He'd thought she would eventually take the hint. However, she seemed to think he was just playing hard-to-swallow, which only made her more aggressive. Soon, he couldn't leave the house without being attacked and devoured. She would be hiding in the bushes when he went out to retrieve the newspaper, or charging at him full-throttle when he stepped out for a trip to the store.

 

As a result, he began leaving the house less and less frequently, in order to avoid her. Soon he became a complete shut-in, having all his groceries and other items delivered so he wouldn't have to leave the safety of his house.

 

But it wasn't a change of heart, thought Leroy as Ginny weepily continued her testimony. No, his heart still felt the same. He still liked being with her, even when she was digesting him. He still had feelings for her. It was reality that was at fault, with societal prejudice as the unindicted co-conspirator. Whatever they felt for each other, they simply could not be together.

 

He had to admit, though, listening to it from her perspective, that the situation did make him look like a bit of a jerk.

 

By now, Ginny was weeping quite profusely on the stand, her face a mosaic of blushing skin and running makeup. Her counsel offered her his handkerchief.

 

"So, to recap, Ms. Wolfe, would you say that Mr. Piggs was in violation of the verbal agreement he had made with you, granting you permission to devour him at any time of your choosing?"

 

Ginny sighed deeply, then nodded. "Yes. But- but that wasn't important. It wasn't that I wanted to eat him, per se. I just... wanted to be with him. I liked him. I loved him, in fact."

 

"Well you sure had a strange way of showing it," shouted Leroy, unable to contain himself any longer.

 

"I loved you, dammit," shouted Ginny, over the wildly banging gavel and the collective gasp of the coutroom. "don't you get it? I LOVED you! Why did you push me away?"

 

"Order!," shouted the scowling Judge Yootts, who was becoming increasingly frustrated with both parties in this dispute. He resented his courtroom being used to resolve personal matters best settled with a damn conversation, and he was anxious to get this trial back onto some legal footing. He banged his gavel vigorously, quieting the courtroom. "Counsels," he grumbled, when the din had died down. "please advise your clients that this is not the place to air their dirty laundry and personal grievances. This is a court of law, and we will stick to the facts of the case." He banged the gavel one more time, just to make the point.

 

"Your Honor," said Blacksmith, unfazed by the reprimand. "It is not possible to separate fact from emotion in this case. It is vital that we demonstrate just how distraught my client was over the breaking of the binding agreement she had made with the plaintiff. If we are to determine her culpability, we must understand her mental state. I think we have demonstrated beyond all doubt that she was heartbroken by the actions of the plaintiff. I have no further questions to ask her."

 

"Fine," barked Judge Yootts. "Counsel for the plaintiff, your witness."

 

"Thank you, your Honor," said Staccato, standing up and approaching the bench. "Ms. Wolfe, could you please tell the court what happened on the afternoon of Phobicus 13th?"

 

Ginny took a deep breath and let out a deep sigh. She'd been dreading this part of the trial.

 

Leroy watched her shifting uncomfortably on the stand, preparing to speak. He, too, had been dreading this part of the tral.

---

Phobicus 13th was destined to be a weird day from the start. It was the 13th day of the 13th month of the year - always a source of anxiety for the superstitious. It was also a Transit Day.

 

Transit Days commemorated the periodic astronomical event during which Aekallia's innermost neighbor, the gas giant Moshter-Haria, crossed the disc of the sun, blocking out nearly half of it and darkening the sky for several hours. In prior millennia these events were thought to signify the end of the world, and were met with mass hysteria - riots, looting, pillaging, and human sacrifice.

 

Today, with the advent of telescopes and calculus and modern astronomy in place of old superstitions, the event is understood for what it is - a periodic and very predictable orbital phenomenon. While it is still met with mass hysteria, this is usually of the day-long drunken carousing variety.

 

The city of Halliwell will use any excuse to take the day off, especially Transit Days. Most of the houses on Piggs' block were holding Transit Day parties, and the smoke from all the bonfires and charcoal grills had largely obscured the sun long before Moshter-Haria had begun to make its approach. The atmosphere hummed with a constant din of singing, carousing, laughing, and the crackle of distant fireworks.

 

Leroy got up from his electronic typewriter, angry and frustrated at the distraction. It was just a transit, for fuck's sake, and a partial one at that. There was no need for all the screaming and shouting and disturbing him while he was trying to write. He huffily sat back down at his desk, seething.

 

Just as he was reaching a tipping point of annoyance, there was a loud rap at the door. He didn't even need to look out the peephole to know who it was. The tone and timbre said it all. It was Ginny.

 

He sighed and pushed his chair away from his desk. What did she want now? He'd already explained to her the problem with their relationship. He was a pig, she was a wolf. It'd never work out. Their families would never accept them. It was just not possible.

 

True, he'd never actually explained this to her in words, per se. But he felt his subtle hints had been more than adequate.

 

He stomped to the door, ensuring that the three chains were firmly in place before sliding open the three bolts, twisting open the two locks, and opening the door the inch-and-a-half that the chains allowed.

 

"Hi, what is it?," he barked at the figure silhouetted in the crack of the doorway. The sky behind her had an odd, grayish quality - it was almost Transit Time.

 

Ginny, pausing to shrug off Leroy's terse response, put on a wide smile, held up a freshly uncorked champagne bottle and two glasses, and asked, quite sweetly, if Leroy was aware that today was a holiday.

 

"Yeah, so?," he said. "I'm on deadline."

 

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You're always on deadline," she said. "Come on, it's a Transit Day. Can't you take just one day off - even a few hours - and have some fun?"

 

Leroy sighed. Something in him wanted to, but something bigger in him knew that he couldn't, he just couldn't. "I dunno," he muttered. "Maybe another time."

 

"You always say that, hon. Another time. Another time," she growled, stamping her foot. "Is there something I did wrong? Did I do something that offended you? You didn't have a problem with me when I was helping you get back on your feet - what changed between then and now?"

 

Leroy looked away and stammered a bit, the prolific writer suddenly finding himself at a loss for words. "It's-," he muttered, "there's-," he added, "I don't-," he concluded.

 

"It's what? There's what? You don't what?," countered Ginny. "I think I deserve an explanation, at the very least."

 

"It's just not going to work between us, okay?," exploded Leroy.

 

Ginny appeared momentarily stunned, then haughtily tsked at this revelation, then collected her thoughts on the matter while taking a rather large guzzle of champagne straight from the bottle.

 

Leroy used the pause in the conversation to dig himself in a bit deeper. "We're just... just... two different people... species... half-species, whatever. It's just - it can't happen. Between us, I mean, there-"

 

"Horseshit," barked Ginny, rather ungracefully wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "You want to know the real reason? The real reason is that YOU can't allow yourself to be happy. THAT's why."

 

Leroy rolled his eyes. "I don't have to listen to this," he said, and tried to push the door closed and walk away. In an instant, Ginny pushed the door back open, threaded her hand between the taut security chains, grabbed a handful of Leroy's hair, and violently yanked his ear into the gap between the door and the jamb."Yes you do," she seethed, "and you'd better listen good.":.

 

Piggs scrabbled at her hand, but her grip was far stronger than his. "Not by the hair," he whined, "oh my," he panicked, "Ginny... Ginn? Ginn!," he pleaded, but Ginny held tight. A clamor of whoops and hoots arose from the surrounding neighborhood as Moshter-Haria began its slow crawl across the face of the sun.

 

"I know you, Leroy Piggs. I've seen through the whole rebellious loner, edgy-eccentric act you put on for your fans. I've seen the real you, and you know it." Ginny narrowed her eyes, the darkening sky adding a nice dramatic backdrop to her words. "And it scares you, doesn't it?"

 

"I- I dunno what you're talking about," spat Piggs, the door chains digging three ridged lines into the skin of his face.

 

"You don't want to be happy. You're afraid you'll lose your edge, sell out, become another boring old two-Rubi pulp paperbacker. Isn't that it?"

 

"That is NOT true," he lied. He had to admit, she perhaps had a bit of a point. He wouldn't dare admit that to her, but she did -- perhaps -- have a point. "I'm already," he growled, still trying to extricate himself from her grip, "perfectly... fucking... happy..." As he spat out the last syllable of happy, he succeeded in prying her fingers from his hair and slipped just out of reach to deliver the coup de grace. "Without YOU," he concluded, then slammed shut the door and threw the locks closed.

 

Ginny stood in front of Leroy's doorway for a moment, then silently counted to ten. It was a technique she'd long used to control her anger and prevent her from doing things she knew she'd regret. Anger management was an important skill to have when one of your bodies was a 400-pound wolf with sharp claws and a bite pressure that could pulverize a human skull.

 

As she reached ten, her rage subsided somewhat. It was no longer the blind, murderous kind. Now it was merely the focused rage of righteous vengeance. She could think of only one thing to do in this situation, and she did it.

 

So Wolfe huffed.

 

And she puffed.

 

And she blew Piggs' house down.

 

Truth be told, it was a bit more involved than that. The huffing was accompanied by a series of whacks with a hatchet to most of the house's vertical support sticks, the puffing complemented a number of sledgehammer blows to a few critical load-bearing points in the structure, and the blow was more or less a vigorous shove, but the desired result was nevertheless achieved. As Piggs let out a whimpering scream, the entire structure buckled, folded, and collapsed into a heap.

 

Piggs dug his way out of the pile, cursing and growling as he pushed through what had been the roof. The sky was now a purplish hue, and the sun appeared as an eerie crescent in the sky. Though he could only give it a passing glance, Leroy had to admit that it was a rather beautiful spectacle.

 

It was then blocked out completely by a dark, furry, growling silhouette. His legs and one arm were still pinned under the rubble, so he was unable to block the drops of drool that now splashed on his face.

 

"G-Ginny," he pleaded weakly. "Please don't - I know you're angry but-"

 

The wolf growled. Loudly. The sound almost drowned out the hoots and whistles and noisemakers of the neighborhood Transit Party. Her teeth glistened, reflecting the purple light of the sky. There were, he noted, an awful lot of them. And they were awfully pointy. Rubbery as they were, they could still do some serious damage to a defenseless human, if she were so inclined.

 

"I'm - I'm sorry I said all that stuff," he pleaded. "Just don't hurt me, okay?"

 

This seemed to soften the wolf a bit. She stopped growling for a moment and just sniffed at him, checking for injuries. He wasn't hurt, apart from some minor cuts and bruises. He was just stuck rather awkwardly under the pile of sticks.

 

Good. Then she could devour him without feeling guilty.

 

So she did. Slowly. Deliberately. Savoring his squeals and struggles. Ensuring that he felt every nip, every bite, every yank and twist of her powerful jaws. This was not one of the sweet, loving swallows she'd given him in the past. No. This was pure, carnal, animal predation - she was enjoying the spoils of a hunt, reveling in his pain as she attacked his defenseless upper half.

 

After a good solid half hour of non-stop biting and chomping, she began to swallow. Again, slowly, taking care to safely extract his legs from the pile of rubble as she pulled his top half down her throat. She savored his pathetic protests and his porcine flavor as her jaws worked their way over his head, his shoulders, his torso, his hips, and finally his legs.

 

Soon, all that remained of Leroy Piggs - the writer, the eccentric, the asshole who dumped her - was a pair of squirming feet sticking awkwardly from the side of her snout.

 

And then they too were gone. He was just a bulge. A very annoying, loud, and squirmy one, but a bulge nonetheless. For hours she reveled in the pleasure of digesting him, enjoying a cathartic sense of finality. Something about this felt symbolic - she was using him for the one thing he was worth to her - nutrients.

 

It was even more symbolic later that night when she squeezed him out onto the compost heap by her tomato garden. She had turned him into refuse - nothing more.

 

Leroy sputtered and whined as he lay on the nauseating heap of rotting scraps, covered in fecal muck. He watched her switch back into her human form and tower over him, looking very satisfied with herself.

"Goodbye, Leroy," she said, then turned and walked away.

 

Regaining his strength - and a bit of his courage - Leroy began yelling at her as she left. "This is illegal, you know," he said. "Wrongful predation, you know!"

 

"Ha," was the best response Ginny could muster as she stood framed in the doorway of her house.

 

"I'll sue! Dammit - I'll sue you for this!"

 

"Yeah, right," sputtered Ginny, as she walked into the house. "I'd love to see that."

 

Wrongful predation, she giggled to herself as she lit the stove to make herself some tea. What a joke, she thought. The thought had her giggling through most of the night, much of the next morning, and part of the early afternoon, until a diminutive lawyer with an awful Vasconi accent showed up with a subpoena.

 

And now, here they were. Settling a dispute between predator and prey in the way nature least intended - before a packed courtroom while two high-profile lawyers used them as proxies to further their own political agendas.

---

"Miss Piggs, I don't believe we heard your response. Could you repeat it more loudly, please?"

 

"In- in retrospect, the a-answer is no," said Ginny. "I probably should not have destroyed the house. That was an overreaction. I was distraught and-"

 

"No further questions, your honor," sneered Angela Staccato, the high-profile lawyer with a horrible Vasconi accent.

 

"-wasn't in control," said Ginny, not quite finished testifying. "I was under emotional distress, and-"

 

Judge Yootts banged his gavel, "Miss Piggs, you may step down. You are no longer on the record."

 

The gavel had snapped Ginny out of her tangent. She got up and took her seat in the defendant's chair as Judge Yootts announced a thirty-two-minute recess while he contemplated the decision.

 

She and Leroy locked eyes for a brief moment as the judge stood and exited the courtroom. Amidst the shuffling murmur of chaos as the lawyers and reporters and audience members coughed and talked and shuffled papers, they exchanged a brief look. The trial had brought up a lot of memories - some bad, but most pretty good. There was something in both of them that wished this could all just go away, but the lawyers had the case on autodragon now². There was nothing left to do but let it finish, whatever the outcome.

---

"All rise," shouted the bailiff. It had been a tense half-hour in the courtroom, and all nerves were on edge. The lawyers were busy preparing their appeal strategies, the reporters were busy drafting their stories on the impact the decision would have on Edouedian life, and the audience members on either side debated amongst themselves what the ruling would be. The only people in the courtroom not engaged in the flurry of activity were Leroy Piggs and Ginny Wolfe. The plaintiff and defendant both sat quietly in their respective chairs, trying not to look at the other while at the same time trying to surreptitiously observe the other looking at them - a difficult task for any species.

 

As the courtroom rose to its feet, a hushed silence descended over the room. It was a tense, held-breath, suppressed-cough, hushed-baby kind of silence that filled the room as Judge Yootts entered the courtroom and slowly ascended the bench. The tension remained in the room even despite the judge tripping on a bit of his robe on the second step, losing his footing, and stumbling up the rest of the stairs amidst a stream of grumbled invectives. "Please be seated,' grumbled Judge Yootts as he gaveled the courtroom out of adjournment.

 

Yootts cleared his throat. Though he'd tried his best to ignore the media hype surrounding this case, he was nevertheless cognizant of the fact that there were a great many eyes and ears on him at this moment. He was well aware that the words he was about to speak would reverberate far beyond the walls of this courtroom, and would have far-reaching impact across the state and around the country. He was about to set precedent. The words he was about to speak would be repeated and dissected and analyzed and scrutinized in law school classrooms for years, perhaps decades to come. He had given them a lot of thought and had chosen them very carefully.

 

And the audience could bloody well wait for them, he thought as he cleared his throat a second time.

 

Ginny Wolfe glanced over at Leroy, biting her lip anxiously. She took a deep breath, shut her eyes and slowly exhaled, silently counting to ten. She didn't even care what the verdict was going to be, she just wanted it finished. She wanted to be out of this courtroom and done with this case.

 

Leroy Piggs glanced over at Ginny, focusing on her tightly-shut eyes. He wondered what was happening in there. He wondered if her mind was as conflicted as his. Part of him wanted to win, but part of him felt she had the stronger case - certainly in the court of public opinion.

 

"In all my years on the bench," began Judge Yootts, "I've seen plenty of cases that tug at the heartstrings. Cases in which raw emotion and compassion make it exceedingly difficult to make an objective ruling. I've seen many cases where right and wrong are so blurred that it is nearly impossible to determine who is at fault."

 

"This," he continued, "is not one of those cases."

 

A hushed murmur arose from the courtroom as judge Yootts paused, partly to clear his throat but mainly for dramatic effect. Fifty years on the bench had taught Yootts the importance of performance.

 

"The Predation Rights Act of 3689 is extremely clear in letter and spirit," he continued. "There is no room for equivocation - the framers of the law intended that an individual's home is a legally-protected safe zone from any and all predators. An individual who consumes, or causes to be consumed, another individual in the prey's home without consent is liable under the law. Thus, I have no choice but to rule in favor of the plaintiff."

Loud gasps erupted from the audience. Leroy sat in stunned, relieved silence for a moment, barely noticing as Angela leaned over in her chair and hugged his shoulders.

 

Ginny, too, seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. It was mixed with apprehension, but relief nonetheless. Trevor furiously clicked his pen and began scribbling a number of appeal strategies on his legal pad.

 

"However," continued the judge, silencing the courtroom murmur, "the law provides me with considerable leeway in awarding damages. Taking into consideration the actual value of the makeshift structure Mr. Piggs considered his home, the prior relationship of the two parties involved, and the mental state of the defendant at the time of the incident, I am awarding to the plaintiff a sum total of twenty-five Arnis compensation for the physical property damage as well as emotional and psychological distress.

 

An even larger murmur arose from the courtroom as this sunk in. Blacksmith ceased writing his appeal strategy and let out a sharp laugh.

 

"Your honor," asked Angela, "I'm sorry - I don't believe I understood you. Did you mean twenty-five thousand?"

 

"No," growled Yootts. "Twenty-five, period."

 

"But-" mumbled Angela. "We asked for-"

 

Yootts slammed the gavel with a reverberating rap. "Twenty-five. That is the decision of the court. This session is adjourned."

 

"Hey, Mr. Piggs, do you want that in cash or check," laughed Blacksmith, a bit of setting sunlight from the windows glinting off his grinning teeth.

 

Piggs sat in the plaintiff's chair, ignoring his lawyer's frantic rant about judicial activism and procedural violations. He smiled. It had been the perfect victory. He didn't really care about the money - he'd already built a new house out of bricks anyway. It was just the principle of the thing, and he'd won. But so had she, in a way. All in all, it was a happy conclusion to the story. A story he wished he'd written. He looked over at the very relieved-looking Ginny, and wondered if she was thinking the same thing. The wan smile she flashed back at him seemed to hint that perhaps she was.

---

The story could end there, of course. But it doesn't. After the dust had settled and attention had waned, some phone calls were made. Author-to-agent, agent-to-agent, agent-to-author, and finally author-to-author. It was an intriguing idea, plaintiff and defendant collaborating on a book about their landmark case. After a few days of fevered negotiations, they had a deal. Then a manuscript. Then a book, and a book tour, and a whirlwind of speaking engagements about their experiences.

 

After a while plaintiff and defendant once again became friends. Long-buried feelings resurfaced. Leroy and Ginny found out that not only was there life after lawsuit, but love as well.

 

And that's where the story ends.

The End

---

1. He meant this in the "feminine canine" sense, of course.

2. There are no airplanes on Aekallia, but their function is fulfilled quite adequately by a few large species of dragon who comprise the long-haul airline industry, swallowing paying customers at dragonports, digesting them en-route, and defecating them at the scheduled destination. Although some trainee dragons carry a human "pilot" in their mouths to help them navigate, experienced flyers are able to fly on autodragon, without the need for a pilot.