I've been thinking a lot today about points of no return
In a lot of vore you'll see an emphasis on this. The point where the prey is physically incapable of escape, too far gone to fight back meaningfully, whether that's from being too exhausted from digestion or too far down the throat to claw back out or simply pinned under the bulk of a predator who's so much stronger
Those times when it's clear the end is certain. That a door is forever closed.
But what about when it's not so clear?
I know it won't surprise you to know that I count a number of longtime friends among my kills. Close confidants, on-again-off-again lovers. Some of them knew what was coming. Others believed right up until the end that I would stop myself. Sometimes, for a little while anyway, I thought I would, too.
And I think back to them, and I start to see it
Those singular moments when something changed
When our eyes met for the hundredth time and somehow it was different than the ninety-nine shared glances before
When I noticed the way she tucked back her hair, that delicate little tremble of her fingers and that subtle pursing of her lips
When she laughed and, for once, didn't hold back any of her joy. No fear of being too loud, of being too much. And my heart twisted up inside me with some kind of desperate desire, some dire need
It's not the kind of thing I know at the time. That some gut-deep part of me responded to something and, in the darkest most animal trenches of my mind, recategorized. But when I look back, after. . .
When I've nothing but the bones at my feet and the lingering scent on her clothes to say she was here
That moment rings so clear in my mind
It's as loud and as sudden as the slam of a door.
