© 1997 Swft and Rogue

Williard staggered from his smashed cage. The explosion that had blown the lab to hell had fortuitously blown his cage through an open window and down into a mud-filled gully. He heard the sirens of the fire trucks, and the shouts of men to each other as they searched through the wreckage for survivors of the blast. Bruised and shaken, the rat crawled a short distance away until he was able to huddle under some overhanging sod along the bank, and with labored breathing, let the grey fog of unconsciousness settle over him.

He awoke to the sounds of footsteps squelching in the soft ground nearby. Even though he could not understand the words, he knew that the men were searching for something, and when one of them held up the twisted remains of his cage Williard realized that they were searching for him. He tried to squirm backwards, deeper under the lip of grass and sod, but he could not fit. Terrified, the rat stayed perfectly still, barely breathing as the men slowly walked by with their flashlights piercing the dark shadows of the gully. After they passed, Williard squirmed from under the now-tight confines of the sod bank and skittered back towards the ruined lab.

Crawling into the tangled heap of concrete and steel, the rat used his nose to track down the familiar scent of his food. He found the remains of a steel canister crushed between two heavy blocks of concrete. Normally, the rat would have been given only a fraction of a teaspoon each day, but today, he was free to gorge himself. Nose wiggling excitedly, the rat crept forward and nuzzled into the golden granules. The aroma of the bounty made his stomach growl, and the rat gulped the food down greedily. Finally, with belly distended and able to eat no more, Williard crept into a chamber above the mound of food and slept.

The sound of other rat feet scrabbling through the rubble reached his sensitive ears and woke him. Chirring deeply, he wedged himself through the tumbled concrete slabs to the food chamber below, squeezing through the gap he had slipped so easily through before. Williard's stomach rumbled with renewed hunger, and he quickly nosed into the food, only to yank his head up a second later as another rat dropped into the chamber. It approached with an angry chitter and bared its teeth. Fearing he would lose his cache of food, Williard leaped upon the intruder, and as he struck, the other rat let out a piercing squeal, crushed under its rival's much heavier bulk.

Williard, to his surprise, found himself completely covering the other rat, his muzzle fastened completely around its neck as it squirmed and shrieked with fear. Williard felt that something was different, that he shouldn't, couldn't be this large, but nonetheless he was, and the creature pinned beneath him, though small, was still a rival. It would have to be taught who the dominant rat was.

A rodent growl bubbled up from his throat as the smaller rat struggled beneath him. He felt a stirring in his loins, the pointed tip of his malehood peeking wetly from its sheath. His muzzle clamped more firmly upon the other rat's neck, and he wrapped his forelegs around the other's thick, furry haunches. The sex of the other rat was not a concern; male or female, the act of mounting and mating it would establish his superiority. With a deep thrust, he pressed forward, only to feel himself slide down under the other's belly. Frustrated, Williard growled around the mouthful of fur, and drawing his hips back, thrust forward harder, angling upward.

A strangled yowl broke from the other rat's muzzle as the thick shaft, much larger than that of any of his brothers in the warren, speared into him. Panting desperately, the smaller rat clawed at the tilted concrete surface beneath him, but the strong embrace held him tightly as Williard rocked his hips back and forth, stuffing more and more of his fat member inside. Trapped, and dwarfed by the monster that was rutting him, the rival could do nothing more than squeak pitifully and paw at the concrete as the unearthly-sized organ drove in and out of him. Sparks erupted in his vision. The awful pressure within him increased, the urge to pee almost overwhelming as his innards stretched unbearably.

Williard chirred deeply, making the rat under him his doe, pounding deeper and with ever- increasing ferocity. Wet, liquid sounds filled the small space below the rubble as he forced himself into the ever-tightening hole. He thought nothing of the steadily-growing size difference, only of winning the other's submission, and of satisfying his own raging lusts. He bucked hard and then snarled with pleasure, loins throbbing as his seed pumped in long, hot spurts into his rival's tail end. The climax briefly weakened him, and as he lifted his muzzle to lap at the blood that seeped through his rival's neck, the smaller rat managed to pull himself off of the dripping organ and out from under Williard's belly. It stood trembling, eyes wide, white cream swirled with redness spraying from beneath its tail. It staggered forward a few steps and fell, and with a fearful glance back at Williard, it slowly dragged itself away.

Satisfied, Williard let the smaller rat escape, and paused a moment to lick the blood from his jaws. He felt suffused with power, his beart throbbing in his chest, yet it was not solely for his victory over the intruder. Somehow, he realized now that something was different, that he was changing. He could not understand it, nor could he even begin to contemplate the reasons why. He knew only that it made him strong, and that felt good. And it made him hungry. He turned back to the food and snatched mouthful after mouthful, growing as he ate, until the last of it was gone.

Sated, the rodent squeeze out if the ever-shrinking chamber, and made his way back through the rubble until he smelled fresh air once more. Pausing to lap at a puddle of water, he sniffed out a suitable hiding place amongst the rubble and curled up to sleep.

For the first time, words, not just sounds, echoed in Williard's simple dreams. For the first time, they seemed to carry some meaning. The rat awoke, confused, the words still whispering in his head. He recognized that the man-thing had held up his former home and given it a name; he had called it a "cage." Still barely comprehending, Williard relaxed and dreamed on, fuzzy memories now sharpening, unreeling like a spool of thread in his mind. As the images unfolded within his white-furred skull, the rat's paws began to twitch violently, scraping at the concrete. He dreamed of his early days, of the first man-thing lifting him from a cozy nest of sawdust, the huge, dispassionate face staring at him. It had spoken then, but only now could he understand the words, his mind filling in the gaps of understanding with flashes of memory. He knew now that he was a "specimen", that the place he was in was performing "tests," and that he was an important part of those tests.

A moment of stillness arrived in the chaotic roils of his thoughts. Words of his own were formed. "I was stupid," he thought, "but that was before. I'm not stupid now. Now, I'm smart, and I'm strong."

"And I'm getting bigger."

Williard awoke again as the morning light filtered in through the jumbled concrete. Rising, he shook himself, then crept cautiously into the open. Around the perimeter of the building, the brush and undergrowth had been cleared away, with the mowers and other equipment now sitting idle. He stalked across the shortcut, his feet sinking slightly into the soft turf, and then sniffed at one of the tractors, rearing up slightly and holding onto the large rear tire for balance. The musky scent of man-sweat was there, but whereas once it would have frightened him, it now only intrigued. He snuffled the tractor seat curiously, taking deep breaths, his loins beginning to throb as his body responded to the scent the same way it had to the interloper who had challenged him for his food.

The sound of approaching vehicles startled him and he hopped down, scrambling across the stream and into the cover of the surrounding woods. He watched from hiding as a battered pickup truck arrived and disgorged several men. The figures talked loudly, slapping each other on the back and joking as they strode toward the tractors. One of them leaped up onto the nearest of the machines, which roared to life with a belch of Diesel smoke.

Williard crouched further back in the woods, chittering as the tractor lumbered toward him. The man-thing on the machine had removed its shirt, and in the hot morning sun of summer, sweat was already glistening on its smooth, tanned hide. Williard growled lowly, licking his chops, ravenously hungry despite having gorged himself the previous night. His hunger grew more desperate as the morning plodded on toward noon, yet he did not dare move. The men were no longer the looming giants they had once been to him, but they were still several of them.

At last, the group reassembled and moved off, leaving the one on the tractor behind. Williard watched balefully as it slid down from the machine, opened a metal box, and began to eat. Williard's body tensed. Here, at last, was food, but once again a rival threatened to steal it away. He felt his loins tense and his sheath begin to fill. He knew how to deal with rivals.

The man set his meal aside and stood up, and stepped gingerly across the marshy soil toward the stream to relieve himself. He paused as he unbuckled his belt, his head tilting, ears straining for the sound he thought he'd heard. There was nothing, but then something rustled ahead of him, and the reeds on the other side of the stream parted. Moisture spread unheeded across the front of his pants as he stood petrified, staring straight into the eyes of a giant rat. The beast was as big as a small horse, its white fur damp and muddy along its chest and underside. For an infinitely long moment he simply stood still, and then with a gasp he spun and tried to claw his way up the bank. The rat was on him in an instant, its immense bulk bowling him over into the marsh, pressing his struggling body into the muddy black earth. He struggled to rise, and felt a blinding pain as massive incisors sank into his shoulder. It began to drag him backward, through the shallow stream and into the dense woods on the opposite side, and then shook him violently. Dark spots flashed across his vision as he was throttled in the monster's jaws, and he went limp. Dimly he felt the regular thump of railroad ties against his feet and legs, and the rat's hot saliva mingling with his blood as it trickled down his chest, and then darkness closed over him.

Williard pulled the man back until he could turn, then carried him like a pup, deep into the woods. At first, Williard had thought to let the man flee and simply take the food; somehow, though, he knew that it would not be a good idea to let the man escape. His belly and loins ached with need, and Williard was beginning to realize that this feeble creature, this rival, could serve both his needs. The man's struggles had stopped, and Williard was able to move quickly now, the forest shadows racing across his body. The tangy taste of the man blood trickling across his tongue was hot and sweet, and he yearned to bite down and savor a hot gush, but he knew he must get far away before he would be able feed.

When he found the hole, he did not know that it was what men call a mine, it's rails long rusted, the remains of coal cars piled to one side. He plunged straight into the darkness and moved deeper into its embrace, until he found a hidden chamber where light from a long vertical shaft filtered in, giving the room a soft glow. Water trickled in from a cleft in the wall, pooling and then exiting through another crack across the room. He dropped the man on the floor and sniffed at him quizzically. He lapped at the blood that oozed forth, and then jerked his head back as the man groaned and began to move.

This thrilled him! He had always preferred to have his prey kick out their last moments as he enjoyed their taste, even if it was only an occasional spider or cockroach that some lab man had dropped into his cage. Chirring happily, Williard reared back on his haunches and gripped the man's arm and leg in his nimble forepaws, then lifted him up to his mouth and bit into his flank. The man twitched, and then with a howl that echoed through the chamber he swung his other hand up and struck Williard hard in the jaw.

Surprised, the rat dropped his prey and shook his head, and then growled and lunged as the man scrambled to his feet and started to run. His incisors tore into the man's thigh, grating on the bone and dragging him back. Williard shook him again, until the flesh tore, and the body fell once more to the ground. Quickly he pinned it down with a forepaw on its chest.

Williard growled happily as he looked down upon the contorted features of the man, the mouth wide open, arms flailing about, pummeling at his thick foreleg. He pressed his other paw down against the man's chin, half-curious to see how far the mouth would open, only stopping when he heard a meaty pop from the juncture of jaw and skull. Blood bubbled up from deep in the man's throat; intrigued, Williard lowered his head and pressed his tongue into the man's mouth, tasting the salty warmth, then slid it further down the man's throat, choking him. He licked back and forth, oddly pleased by the feel of the man's throat squeezing around it, his head bouncing up and down as he tried to expell it. The rat's loins surged with the power over his captive, his arousal pushing forth from its sheath and swelling eagerly, its diameter reaching that of the man's arm. He pulled his head back, tugging his long tongue from the man's mouth, then drove his muzzle down against the man's belly. squashing it back flat against his spine. Chirring like an idling dragster, the rat chewed vigorously at the cloth of the jeans, till the fabric separated under his teeth and the tatters fell away. The man's own scent was stronger now that he was exposed, the muskiness filling Williard's nostrils, taunting him, threatening him. Even lamed, the man continued to flaunt his scent, refusing to submit to the dominant rat. Rising up, Williard allowed the man to roll to all fours, and then pounced on him once more as he tried to crawl away. The tantalizing scent of male enraged him; he would have to teach this one, too.

The man let out a squeal much like a rat's cry as Williard's teeth sank into his shoulder again. Two forelegs encircled his belly and hauled him up off the floor. His back pressed tightly against the muddy fur of the rat's belly, and he struck out blindly with both arms, landing only glancing blows on the muzzle clamped around his shoulder. A warm bulk pressed up against his buttocks; the forelegs squeezed him hard, forcing the air from his lungs with a gurgle, and then the impossible bulk was abruptly rammed inside of him. With no air left to scream, and with his broken jaw flapping comically, the man could only twitch and choke as the monstrous organ crammed its way in. . He felt his anal ring expand, stretch intensely, and finally tear. His guts churned as the gigantic shaft drove deep, squelching. His bladder let go uncontrollably as the still- swelling member squeezed against it, the splashing of the hot liquid on the chamber's floor forming a sickening harmony with the ripping of flesh, the yellow stream quickly turning red. The man began to wheeze, the grip of the forelegs slowly crushing him as his entrails were hammered into pulp by the pumping organ.

Williard thrust forward viciously, blinded to the man's torment, focused only on forcing the man's submission. In his mind he could feel the hands of men gripping his body, and with a snarl he drove in deeper, savoring the warmth as it stretched ever tighter around his erection. He felt the needles pricking his flesh, the electric shocks; he saw others of his kind being taken away by men, and heard the word "sacrifice," its meaning suddenly dawning on him.

The man's pelvis cracked and split asunder. Williard thrust harder still, and then bit down hard as he felt the heat rush through his loins. His teeth met deep inside the man's chest as the ribs crackled and collapsed. The limbs hung down limply around a belly that swelled hugely with the semen that gushed into it from behind, until streams began to trickle from the man's mouth and nose.

Williard squeaked and panted, remaining still for a long time before releasing his jaws from the bloody carcass beneath him. He had broken the man, had rutted him nearly to pieces. The body seemed tiny now, much smaller than when he had dragged it down here. Slowly, with a wet slurp, he withdrew his twitching penis from the battered form. Blood and seed pooled under it body as he let it fall wetly to the ground. The rat tucked his head down and licked himself thoroughly clean, then sniffed at the warm flesh under him.

Sacrifice. It seemed a fitting word.

His belly rumbled with hunger. Williard worried off an arm, chewing it eagerly, licking his chops as the taste warmed his appetite. He gnawed the other arm off, this time splitting the bones, crunching them for the sweet taste of marrow. With his claws he tore open the thick stomach muscles, chewing them down to the shattered ribs. He scooped the slithery intestines out with a paw and then, pressing his muzzle into the chest cavity, grabbed the heart, chewing it loose, then bolting it down. Fully enjoying himself now, Williard settled down to feast on the man's legs, tearing long strips of muscle off, chewing them with great delight.

Only when little else but the head was left did the rat finally feel satiated. He rolled the gruesome head around, amusing himself, and finally lost interest and tossed the head off into a corner. With meticulous care he cleaned his muzzle and chest, using his paws to scrub the dark red stains from his fur. Bathed, and with his belly full, the rat chirred contentedly, then relaxed into a deep slumber.

Night had fallen when Williard awoke again, the chamber now black. He stretched, and sniffing about in the darkness, located the discarded skull. He rolled it back between his jaws, the head not much bigger than a chestnut between his teeth. Crunching down, he shattered the skull, enjoying the taste of the brains, like a cool jelly. He pressed his tongue up against the roof of his mouth to strain them of the shards of bone before letting them slide down his throat, then he spat the shards out and turned to slake his thirst at the little pool.

***************

"I don't know where he went, Officer," the burly man grunted, scratching his head. "Alex was supposed to take his lunch, then finish hogging out that last section. When one of the other guys went over to see what was taking him so long, they couldn't find a trace of him. Even his lunch was gone out of the truck." He shrugged. "I figured he had just taken off -- guys do that sometimes. Then I called his place this morning, but got no answer. It's not like him to just take off completely."

The policeman nodded and scribbled a bit more in his notebook. "Well, we can't put out a missing person's report just yet. It will be another day before I can send anything over the wire. But I can issue something local. Can't say the guys on patrol don't already have enough to watch for, what with the cattle mutilations and such."

"Cattle mutilations?"

"Yeah, sure. Some sickoes at work. Didn't find anything but the head of the first one, then the second one was found opened up like someone had used a logsplitter on her. Don't know if it's some cult that's responsible, but when the vet does the necropsy, we should have some more info."

The man nodded. "That sucks. Thanks for coming out, anyway."

******************

The veterinarian tilted the table, the overhead microphone catching every word as he examined the torn animal carcass and cooly described his findings. That the cow had died of massive internal injuries was obvious; what had caused them was not, but he was intent on finding out. Scalpel in hand, he flicked on the exhaust fan, bringing the nozzle over close. Ten years of practice had taught him to never cut into an animal without having a place for the inevitable gas and spray of fluid to go. He sliced into the cow's hide and was rewarded with only a small burp of gas. Knowing that the animal had been found freshly killed last night, he was not surprised, but it was still confusing -- the carcass was bloated, as though it had been baking for days in the hot sun. Pulling her tail back, he inserted the calipers to measure her dilation, and was surprised as the instrument hit the last stop. Intensely curious now, the vet donned a long rubber glove, his hand sliding into the dead cow easily. He felt around, and traced the ragged crack of a shattered pelvis, the colon and vaginal passage held in place only by the cow's hide and spinal column. There were no telltale abrasions or splinters; whatever had penetrated the cow had not been made of wood or steel. He pressed deeper, and felt resistance; he pressed harder, and there was a wheezing pop. Startled, he withdrew his hand, and was rewarded with a torrential rush of thick white fluid that burst from the carcass's depths like the stream of a pressurized hose. The pungent aroma of semen rose up, overwhelming the pull of the exhaust fan. He stumbled back, astonished at the sheer, unbelievable volume that had been trapped inside, and then hastily gathered a specimen for closer study.

*******************

Williard rested, lounging back in the old barn as sunlight trickled through the cracks in the roof. He had found the barn after raiding a farmer's field, snapping up cattle and carrying them off to be devoured. The last one had been in heat, and driven on by the scent, he'd used her for other purposes. He had oddly enjoyed the sensation as her hips cracked and spread, just as the man's had, frothy blood spraying from her nose as she bellowed into the night before expiring around his thick member. With his belly full, he had simply left that one in the field, and crept into the barn to digest his meal.

He sprawled back against the remains of the haystack, his rodent body now well over forty feet long, and on all fours, nearly fifteen feet high. His thoughts were growing ever clearer, and he found himself for once pondering the future, instead of the past. He hardly ever thought of men any more. Once his tormentors, then his rivals, men were now little more than bugs to him. The farmer himself had gone down in only three bites.

The day passed in lazy bliss, and as the sun set, Williard finally stirred from his makeshift nest. He stretched out and yawned, tongue curling up in his muzzle, and took a moment to wash his face with his forepaws. It was a shame to leave such a cozy hideaway, but hunger was once again beginning to gnaw at his belly, and besides, the barn was growing steadily more cramped. Ducking down, the rat nosed the door open and scooted out on his belly into the moonlight. The cooling air to the east brought him the scent of cattle, and the thought of the fat, meaty bodies crunching and gushing between his teeth made him salivate. More out of habit than caution, he avoided the roads and as he scurried off into the night.

He found them easily. Clumsy, stupid beasts, with hardly enough brain to flee as he bore down on them. He seized them one by one, dragging them across the field to a ditch, where he feasted on them leisurely. Before long, the remains of six of the animals lay spread before him, bare ribcages and skulls marking his feast. Chirring in satisfaction, he settled down to preen the gore from his milky white muzzle. He was not yet full, but with such a wealth of prey nearby he did not feel the need to gorge himself. It gave him the luxury of leaving the more indigestible scraps behind.

A sudden shift in the wind carried a new scent, and Williard tensed, growling. This one was strange to him, but nonetheless, he knew it was male. His hackles raised as age-old instincts took over. He had grown careless, too confident that his dominion over these hunting grounds would go unchallenged. Now there was yet another rival to defeat.

The intruder approached from upwind, its footfalls heavy and loud. Williard crouched low, pressing his belly to the floor of the ditch, and watched as the bizarre creature drew nearer. Even in the darkness, the rat's keen eyes could distinguish its shape. It was big, large enough to pose a threat, and as it ambled closer, Williard caught the odor of man mingling with its scent. That enraged him further, and with a hissing snarl he reared up to challenge it.

The creature reared up, too, and squealed at him. He struck out with a paw and swatted it down. It fell, sprawling, its body broken in two by the blow. Williard lowered his head for a killing bite, but then squeaked in surprise and jumped back as the two halves of the creature suddenly rejoined. It scrambled to its feet and wheeled, kicking up some dirt in the rat's face.

Williard hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then lunged forward. Male-scent and man- scent filled his nostrils. Either alone would rouse the rat to challenge; both in conjunction filled him with a lustful fury. He quickly grew aroused, dominance flashing in his eyes. His paw once again struck the creature to the ground, and he seized it by the hind legs, quickly overpowering it and dragging it closer. His jaws descended on the rival's back, clamping tightly. Gripping it once more with both forepaws around the foreparts, he hauled it backward, onto the jutting spear of his erection. With a powerful thrust he split the animal open, stretching its body around his eager member.

Even through the fog of his arousal, Williard was aware that something was very different with this beast. His head came up, and the creature came apart once more. No, not come apart -- it was two creatures, not one. The part in his jaws was a man, and the remainder something else, something Williard had never seen before. The man's upper body was completely engulfed by his mouth; only two wildly kicking legs protruded from his lips, on either side of his broad incisors. He paused only briefly to ponder this curiosity, and then the thrashing of the animal beneath him caused its innards to squeeze moistly around his penis, sending pleasurable ripples through his loins. Ignoring the man's struggles, Williard clamped him more tightly between his jaws and resumed mating the dying animal beneath him.

It was a brief coupling. The creature's body quickly tore apart as the monstrous organ pumped within it, and fell away in fleshy tatters. Williard shivered and whimpered in frustration, his loins aching with unfulfilled need. The man still wriggled and jerked inside his mouth, and he could taste its blood where its hide must have ripped against his teeth, but even this could not distract him from the painful throbbing. Squeaking softly, Williard doubled himself over and nosed at his own member. He managed to push the man's gyrating legs aside with his tongue so that he could lick himself; they would not hold still, though. Williard decided to simply crush the man between his teeth so that he could set himself to this urgent task, but just then the kicking legs lashed out and slid along his meaty length. It made him shiver, and he paused, considering. The man kicked again, this time his foot bouncing off of the very tip of the rat's penis.

Williard sighed contentedly, pleased with this discovery. Taking the man's legs in his clever forepaws, he situated them once more on either side of his incisors and held them firmly in place with his tongue and lips. He doubled over once more, and at first awkwardly, then with increasing confidence, he began to lick himself, allowing the motion of the man's legs to aid him. He found it pleasing, and worked harder, faster, his head swinging up and down, tongue slathering over his most sensitive regions while the frantic legs danced upon them, urging him on with their relentless caress.

At last the welcome release came. Williard's body tensed and bucked as his seed burst forth, splashing across the grass and coating the bones strewn around him. His muscles quivered with the strain, and then relaxed again, his limbs feeling heavy and weak. Exhausted, he settled down to his belly, panting around the twitching body in his mouth. His jaw clenched, but after such a forceful orgasm he could not muster the strength to bite down. Taking a deep breath, then, he raised his head up high and simply swallowed. The man's legs disappeared into his mouth as the squirming body was pulled into his throat. He gulped again, feeling the thrashing limbs slide down his gullet. The struggling was a curiously pleasant sensation as the man slowly died in the rat's belly.

Williard's strength returned before long, and with his hunger appeased, he decided to return to his nest in the barn to doze. To his dismay, though, he found that the door was too small for him to crawl through. He tried to duck down as low as he could to squeeze in through the narrow passage, but the harder he pushed, the more the ancient timbers groaned, until the entire wall finally gave way. It brought the roof down with it, pummeling the startled rat with wreckage as he scrambled to get away. When the dust finally settled, Williard crept forward to sniff at the remains of the barn. Obviously, he would have to find someplace else to sleep tonight.

The sky was beginning to grow pale in the east when the rat's wandering brought him to another barn, larger than the last. Williard was delighted to find a number of tasty cows and other creatures penned inside. They would be a fine meal for him later, when his hunger returned. This particular place, though, had a little building attached, and from one of its windows a light glowed. Tired, but nonetheless curious, Williard slunk toward the window and peered inside. The scent of man was strong within.

*******************

The veterinarian peered with a reddened, incredulous eye into the microscope. The image in the field of view was growing blurry, but he could not deny what it meant. As simple and crude as was the equipment in his little laboratory, it was enough to have given an unambiguous result. The telltale protein bands seemed to sneer at him from their plate. "Bastards," he said aloud. "This project was terminated. I saw to it myself." As if the words could somehow change his findings, he bent to gaze into the eyepiece once more, hoping for some tiny anomoly that would allow him to doubt his conclusion.

The image shifted. Startled, he tried to locate the plaque again in the scope. Some vibration had disturbed it, like a footstep on the stairs. "Is someone there?" he called. Hearing no answer, the veterinarian rose and strode into the hallway, and seeing that it was empty, he turned back, only to freeze in terror at the sight of a glowing red orb hovering in a sea of white outside his window. It floated motionless, until it blinked. Panicked, the veterinarian staggered backward, tripping over a stool. With a dull crack the window exploded inward, showering him with glass. A white, furry muzzle forced its way into the room. The window frame cracked and broke free, the studs and wallboard folding inward as the rat thrust his head inside. Powerful jaws clamped around the screaming man, yanking him violently from the building and into the darkness.

***************************

Williard padded happily across the barnyard with the man bouncing between his teeth, then headed into the huge barn. The door easily yielded as he pressed against it, and he crawled inside and dropped the man between his forepaws. He was looking forward to enjoying this tiny snack before settling down to sleep. Unexpectedly, though, his prey darted forward and leaped over the rat's foreleg, very close to his shoulder. He had thought it would have run away from him, and in fact he was already prepared to lunge, and so this bizarre reversal had caught him off guard. He stood and looked around, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

A growl rumbled in the ratss throat. He backpedaled, head swinging back and forth searchingly. His rump pushed against the heavy door, swinging it closed with a wooden thump. The sound startled him, and Williard whirled around. His hindquarters knocked over a pile of crates, and he turned again as they clattered to the floor. He felt something warm wiggle under one of his hind feet, and as his weight settled upon it there was a soft crack. Intrigued, Williard raised his foreleg and ducked his head under it to peer behind him.

There he found the man, lying on his back, one leg pressed cruelly beneath the heavy paw. Williard chittered with amusement and raised that foot. The little man yelped and began to drag himself backward; Williard lowered his foot again, this time covering the man's torso. He did not press down -- he was too interested in the man's squeals of terror. Muffled beneath his foot, they sounded exactly like those made by the other man in the field, the one he had swallowed. Images formed in Williard's mind as the memory of the unanticipated pleasures the man had provided were replayed. The same yelpings, the same struggles...

The same pleasures.

The images became more focused, more intriguing. Williard peered at the little limbs that writhed from beneath his paw, and then stepped carefully to the side. The man was afforded only a brief respite, before the rat's enormous testicles dragged over him. As massive as such tend to be in any rat, Williard's easily covered the man's body, settling over him completely. The struggles continued, an alluring caress now, growing fainter thought more frantic as the giant rat settled down more fully onto his belly.

Williard relaxed, relishing the tender stroking upon his furry globes, pleased that the man remained alive. He looked forward to exploring the usefulness of the little creature trapped beneath him, but for the moment he was tired, and needed sleep. The man would still be there when he woke again.

And if not, he could always find more.