The ladder creaked under my weight as I climbed it again to make the belly cut. Unfortunately, first I had to cut out the rest of its manhood. Which causes another little growl below.
Two fingers then go into a small notch I’d made at the groin, creating a shield between blade and innards. Sliding the knife in between, edge facing away from the digestive organs I didn’t wish to puncture and have ruin the rest of the at, the abdominal wall parted easily.
Like the soft fleshy bit it was which made it the best place to let fangs begin digging in to any kill.
Reaching inside for the bladder, I pinch the neck and cut it free. Don’t want it to accidentally burst and spread urine over the liver or heart. I set it down in the empty bucket she holds up for , not sure there is a use for it.
Kyrie then moved quickly as requested, holding the mouth of the contractor bag wide as the intestines began their guided fall forward. Probably a hundred pounds of the blue-grey coils, kind of purple in parts.
Slicing the sentery root I was warned of, still stretching from the spine and holding it all together, I start helping the slick and still a bit warm mass into the bag while she braced against the weight filling her arms.
Heavy stomach and spleen slip past, though still tethered by the esophagus. I catch onto the liver before it slips down too far and nick the little green sack out of the way before detaching the prize part and carefully separating them.
Gallbladder is perfectly... edible to beasts. Which is to say, it’s potent and tastes completely awful, but it’s just a little shake of the head or two of sharp bile taste when you pop it while eating the good part.
Yet, I’m trying to practice what to do here for processing at with humans in mind. And also... I don’t really care to have one of my son’s first als taste like what is purposed to be *extra* potent bile.
I may not be a real Princess here, but if this not-really-Queen standing down here, doing such servant’s work, is helping raise him... then that makes Asha at least a not-Prince. If I’m really selling the pesudo-royalty angle, he should only have the best parts.
> I wonder how much of that is intentionally pretentious and how much rely maternal? Maybe half and half. <
Another thin slice through the muscle wall up to the chest, the diaphragm I believe it was called, and reach my hand into the ribcage. Grabbing the last holdout near the neck and plucking the rest out.
Heart and lungs I disconnect and drop next to the liver - my *good* things for my son bucket. Lung at is kind of light, but supposedly makes for tasty enough dog food. I’ve only ever eaten them raw and whole, so I may have to try a taste after using the food processor on them.
"Thank you. You can set it down."
All that was left hanging of the once powerful creature is a red, boney structure. Empty of everything that had made it alive. Er, except the kidneys. And... it’s paws I suppose.
"Maybe... I should have cut those off first. Instead of eviscerating it as if it were soone being tortured to death still wearing their gloves and shoes."
"Most of the ti they get left on the skin before it is tanned. So does the top of the head."
"See, that’s just creepy from my perspective. Why should I need my blanket to have paws and a head? Either I am pretending to be the creature or pretending the creature is *on* ."
"I... guess I can understand that perspective. I’m sure you’ve noticed I don’t exactly own much fur, myself."
"Well, when we can change into our own fur..."
I start to unwrap the rope holding its leg then think better of it. With a helper here, I don’t have to be the only superhuman doing things.
"I need your storage space. We’ll move the carcass to the clean tarp using it."
She nodded before... she started to undress. Blouse ca off so quickly despite so many buttons that I barely had ti to blink twice. Slacks and shoes were shrugged off to the side as well, leaving just white athletic underwear.
Simple. Practical. Kyrie. The kind of thing you wear when you might need to transform at any mont and don’t mind them tearing apart.
> Is she planning to shift and help carry it in wolf form? But the system’s storage is so much easier... <
With a sudden thought, my focus drifts to the interface that shows the slots for the | Parental Stash |. Both were full, mine with the flayed hide. Hers...
She took a stance. Arms slightly raised, feet planted shoulder-width apart. A specific pose that looked well practiced and absolutely out of place.
Then I blinked and it was there. White tactical vest that looked more like dieval armor than anything else, with its shoulder covers and plate holders covering her torso.
Massive rectangular pouches, three of them, sat against her left side. I realized it held ammunition, for the blocky looking firearm sohow locked flat against her chest. Or rather... the vest...
> She’s making use of the tricks for what counts as a single item... <
When she turns to the side, I see cables that ran from sothing on the back. Over her shoulder, into one of those radio units and a dozen other things. A power unit?
A short pry bar was also strapped to the rear panel. Anti-werewolf grenades, judging by a symbol I recognized from the hunter’s app, on the shoulder straps.
My mate had just manifested battlefield preparation onto her body by standing in the right position. Disturbingly attractive.
> That’s... that’s the only appropriate phrase for this feeling. <
She reached up and yanked sothing near her neck. The entire rig *stretched* apart enough to shed off her shoulders and clatter down onto the tarp in a heavy pile. Making a sound like it probably weighed as much as she did.
Kyrie calmly stepped out of the fallen armor, left again in just her simple whites. And walked toward the hells damned hanging carcass like *nothing unusual* had happened.
"What... was that?"
"The chanism isn’t perfected yet."
"...Kyrie."
"I’m having soone I trust work on a fra that also holds it just a bit open before I store it."
"Mrs. Voss."
"That way it gives the rigging room to pull out around and whatever clothes without... sloughing off entirely."
Answered as if this instant tactical deploynt was a re minor inconvenience she was iterating on. Weaponizing the system ability... this better not have been *all* she has done today!
"When, praytell, did you even acquire that?"
"Years ago. Lunarizon ergency riot gear."
"You’re telling that gun is for riots? The barrel opening is the width of my thumb."
Well, not quite but probably still half an inch round. Or so I find when I hop off and look at everything closer.
"...If enemy packs ever rioted in my city, yes."
"And why exactly did you have it with you *now*?"
"I should probably say I was testing it when you stopped talking on the radio. But the truth is that I went out of my way to grab it again. After finishing the eting to test it two hours ago."
"...Why? Is there trouble?"
"Just in case a riot broke out on my way to find you."
Damn it. I want to be mad, or at least ambivalent... but why is this kind of hot? Is it because I can sll all the silver in these rounds that used to be danger? Or is it just because my white haired beauty is showing off her body?
> No, I’m definitely imagining her using the gun. <
"You’re staring."
"Yes. You’re almost naked. And we have work left. Sha on you."
"I feel like you’re trying to get to point out you’ve had nothing on for an hour."
A toothy smile as I rise, walk to the ladder, climb... and look down at her face from up high.
"So you *were* watching as well. That war-like thing down there and your eyes on . Doesn’t sound like you’re doing the best administrative job today, my Queen."
Reaching over, I pull up hard on the carcass to let off the rope tension. It unfurls from both ankles as my will focuses on summoning the hide I stored away. It billows up over the girder and lands on it at the sa ti the hunk of hanging at disappears.
Falling intentionally to the side, off the ladder and landing on the bloody tarp on hands and feet - a bit too much like a cat, instead of a fox perhaps - I stretch back to a stand while pointing up at what I want her to retrieve.
"Get that to soone who can finish what I started. I’m told I need non-iodized salt. And later tonight, you best have a few tales to tell about what else you accomplished today. No slacking off, my beautiful wolf."
Bluster. Piles and piles of it. Heavier than her armor. Heavier than all this bear.
> I really just need her to get out of here so I don’t mark her!
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