It was a chilly November night, and per usual, George was bored and hungry.
 
 
The musk ox was doing what he usually did after getting off work and finishing his routine at the gym: scouring a bar for a good, protein-laden snack. He quickly checked the latest scores in his notebook:
 
 
Niall Crow 24:17:83
Simon Wolf 23:42:18
Danny Liger 29:07:09
Juan Anteater 23:01:44
 
 
A pretty good streak, except for that annoying liger gym-rat who was obsessed with the ungulate’s muscly body, but he had still yet to beat the speed record he’d obtained after nomming that horny, tasty bluebird months ago. Speaking of which… he was really craving a bit of… poultry. Sure, birds were about a dime a dozen, especially in this part of the city, but that did little to change his opinion on their wonderful and varied tastes. Besides, this was his first night at this club… perhaps among the pill-poppers and mindless perverts, there’d be a lovely feathered treat.
 
 
George’s eyes came to rest on a certain table, near the entrance, or more specifically, the guy sitting at it. He was a very small guy, a brown-feathered bird of some sort, dressed in a simple white shirt and purple shorts. He reminded the ox of that guy he met at that hip hop concert back in January… the starling? Yeah, he was a starling. That guy was fucking adorable, so drunk he was just barely able to voice his proposition for sex. He sobered up once he actually wound up in the porta-potty with him, though… his screams and sobs as he was churned into ox poop and then shit out into the potty’s holding tank were delightful. George would kill to have another meal like that… like, he was literally going to kill for it. The beefy man made his way towards the table, letting his confident, suave demeanor do most of the work for him.
 
 
“‘Sup, pretty bird?”
 
 
“H-Huh?” Sirav responded, the chimney swift a bit surprised to see someone approaching him, especially at a time such as this. Undeterred, George continued. “You seem kinda lonely. You looking for a quick fuck or something? I’d be happy to give it to you.” The little swift chuckled nervously, faint fear evident in his eyes. He began to explain.
 
 
“Uh… I-I’m kind of busy with something else. You see, a few years ago, on this date, I came here to meet someone… and then I woke up with no memory of what happened. I swear that person… they’re the love of my life, my soulmate. They must be. So, it’s kind of an annual tradition of mine to come back here on the anniversary and look for clues. So I’d like to be left alone, thank you… sir.”
 
 
Bingo. The musk ox already knew what to say for his next question. “Well, how do you know it’s not me?”
 
 
“...What?”
 
 
“You heard me. Your soulmate… they could be me. You’ll never know if you don’t try, though.” Sirav seemed a bit… intrigued. “What are you suggesting, then?”
 
 
The ox gestured to the restrooms. “Come into the restroom with me, you can suck my cock or I can plow you or something, I haven’t decided which I’d prefer yet. I can’t guarantee I’ll be the one you’re looking for, but you’ll at least have a good time.” The bird thought it over… even though this huge guy was kinda scary, and he couldn’t remember his lover being a bovine… he could still be the one. Sirav nodded, agreeing to his proposal. George could only smile, taking his soon-to-be protein boost to the mens’ restroom.
 
 
Little did the confident ox know, however, that he was being watched.
 
 
The tall emu bartender, dressed in a white blouse, a pair of black jeans, and a small amount of jewelry, watched the scene play out with a look of suspicion. As it happened, she was quite close with the chimney swift. She watched over him every year when he came for the anniversary. She got him drinks, she drove him home, she even helped him calm down if he had a panic attack. He’d even helped her a few times, like when he provided emotional support to her as she underwent her transition. To allow Sirav to be harmed would be unacceptable. Thus, after serving a young cheetah woman her drink, she quickly stepped out from behind the bar and headed into the restroom, having a hunch about the ox and that notebook he carried under his arm..
 
 
SLAM!
 
 
“The fuck are you-!?”
 
 
CRACK!
 
 
THUD!
 
 
Ogier caught the oxen with his pants around his ankles, and she kind of lost it. The punch she threw was surprisingly strong, connecting solidly with George’s lower jaw and knocking him to the ground. Ogier wasn’t sure what made him go unconscious; the punch, or his head hitting the ground once he fell. Either way, the musk ox’s broad, muscular body was lying limp on the floor, and Sirav looked absolutely mortified, standing against the wall.
 
 
“...W-What did you do that for, you big… e-emu?”
 
 
“Got a bad vibe about him, mate.” She matter-of-factly responded. As the swift looked on in shock, the woman rifled through the downed ungulate’s pockets, finding his phone, his wallet… and a stopwatch? Curious, she picked up the notebook that had been dropped on the dank tile floor, opening it up. The first page was headlined “TIMES FROM CONSUMPTION TO DISPOSAL” in black pen, and from then on, it was just lists and lists of countless first names, followed by species, followed by recorded times. Victims of this smug, careless ox man. Ogier only found a blank sheet about halfway in, with one page half-filled. “Bloody hell, Sirav, if it wasn’t for me, you’d be eaten by this bloke.”
 
 
The smaller bird’s eyes widened. “Oh god… r-really?” he asked, to which the emu showed him the contents of the book itself. His feathers stood on edge, and he looked a bit ill, something Ogier quickly picked up on. “Mate, I reckon you’re done for the night. Head outside and wait by the car, I’ll be out in a minute to give you a lift home.”
 
 
“O-Ok.”
 
 
Sirav left the bathroom, thinking about how if Ogier hadn’t gotten suspicious and trailed after him and the ox, he'd be a steaming pile of shit. As for Ogier… she had to take care of the problem. The large emu got to work stripping George of his clothes, revealing a toned, bulky body beneath, covered by dense brown fur. Quite a shame he was going to kill her best friend: He was quite attractive. Still, if he was going to run around eating innocent people, he was probably better off dead. Opening her beak wide, the Aussie prepared to give the protein-obsessed gym-rat a taste of his own medicine…
 
 
GLLKK!!!
 
 
George’s head, neck and shoulders fit surprisingly easy down her throat, even with the horns considered. Her hands tore off the minimal clothing he wore as she worked him down: No need getting indigestion from this loser. It was only once she worked her beak down to his stomach that he became an issue. George’s hairy stomach, fattened by countless encounters with tasty studs, was very large and round, and the emu struggled to wrap her throat around the mass without causing herself to choke. Eventually, though, she could hork down that gut. From there, it was as simple as slipping his pants off and slurping down his legs like hooved noodles…
 
 
GLLLKK!!
 
 
ULLPPP!!!
 
 
“Woof… he was a lot more filling than he seemed… BUAAAARRRRPPP!!!”
 
 
The emu rose to her feet, her feathery gut spilling out of her blouse. She felt absolutely stuffed… the ox was smaller than her, but he was still almost her size, and very, very heavy. The bulge of curled up man was very obvious in Ogier’s middle, but she didn’t really care about that. She just needed to get herself and Sirav home… although, there was that stopwatch he had… maybe she could help him finish his notebook…
**
**
**
Ogier was awoken the next morning by the weight in her stomach awkwardly shifting, yawning and she sat up. It quickly became obvious that the nude emu was not going anywhere anytime soon… this ox was heavy, and as a result, was keeping her pinned to her bed. Oh well… good thing she’d asked her boss for time off to process last night, and he’d so generously granted it to her. Hearing her meal screaming, muffled by flesh, the bird curiously put her ear to her belly.
 
 
“W-What the fuck is this shit!?!? Let me the fuck out of here!!!”
 
 
“Or what, you muppet?”
 
 
“I-I’ll fucking kill you, I-I’ll… I’ll… I-It’s fucking burning!!!”
 
 
“Awwww, poor bloke’s scared now that he knows what his prey went through, eh?”
 
 
“O-Oh my god… y-you fucking ate me?”
 
 
“Yep! And since you’re pretty big, and I’m not as skilled as you, It’ll take at leeeeeeeeast a few days to work you down.”
 
 
“No… N-NO!!! PLEASE, IT HURTS SO MUCH!!! YOU CAN’T-Y-YOU CAN”T FUCKING DO THIS!!!!”
 
 
“Yeah, yeah… have fun in there. You’re getting exactly what you deserve.”
 
 
“W-WAIT!! FUCK, H-HELP!!! HELP!!!!”
 
 
URRRRRRRPPPP!!!!
 
 
Ogier belched up a bit of fur, and settled in to sleep in for a bit more, since she didn’t have to go to work later. Next to her, on the nightstand, rested a few things… a running stopwatch, and an open notebook with notes scrawled in black pen, the latest entry written in a clashing red pen:
 
 
“Dumb Beefy Cow”