“Churn! Churn! Churn!”
Lynna prowled back and forth on stage, her thick tail trailing behind her. She made sure to turn so that everyone in the audience could get a good, long look at the gut hanging out of her open jacket. Her fur writhed and squirmed as the person trapped underneath struggled.
She brought the microphone to her mouth. “What was that, fans?”
“Churn! Churn! Churn!”
Chrissy chanted along with the rest of the crowd as the enthusiasm grew, throwing her voice into that combined energy with all her might. She was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with other concert-goers in the standing-only general admissions area, and the whole crowd pulsed with the rhythm of the chant, pumping their fists in the air.
From her vantage point on the stage, Lynna loomed over them, a grin on her face, her gaze going from the upper seats down to the floor in front of the stage. When she continued, her voice reflected the enthusiasm of the crowd, clear and pure through the venue’s sound system.
“Do you want me to churn this bitch!?”
The chant devolved into a wild roar, Chrissy’s own throat starting to turn sore as she pumped her own excited scream into the mix. Lynna lowered the mic, pressing it against the writhing fur of her midsection.
A powerful, rolling gllllrrrrrn, accompanied by what sounded like a muffled scream for help, was broadcast through the entire venue by that same powerful sound system. The crowd cheered even louder, as the rest of the band took that as a cue to start the next song.
Chrissy couldn’t remember the last time she had had so much fun. Watching Lynna’s concerts was nothing compared to actually being there. The energy of the crowd was infectious, and she was so close it felt like she could almost reach out and touch Lynna’s squirming gut. She made it part of the show, turning and dancing and posing to show it off as she belted out her music. She stalked the stage, looking out at the crowd and licking her lips, as if imagining which one of them were next.
It was, of course, all just part of the show. Chrissy knew that. Being “the predatory pop star” was Lynna’s whole gimmick. She did this every show, picking a “volunteer” from the audience to join her on stage.
But wow, being here in person, Chrissy had to admit that they certainly made it look real. That rabbit she had pulled up on stage looked genuinely surprised. The combination of embarrassment and fear on her face had seemed authentic when Lynna had pulled off her concert t-shirt, tossing it into the crowd with a “she won’t be needing this anymore!” The sound design had been fabulous when Lynna had placed the mic near her throat while “swallowing” the girl. And whatever combination of lighting tricks and stage magic the crew had used to conceal wherever the rabbit had really gone was effective enough that Chrissy couldn’t spot the trick. Combined with the seamless prosthetic (and apparently animatronic?) stomach, it truly did look like the performer had eaten one of her fans.
Chrissy forced herself to stop trying to pick it apart. Why ruin the magic? She could just lose herself in the fantasy, like the rest of the audience. Bask in Lynna’s predatory energy, lose herself to the crowd, and sing along with her favorite songs. She had paid a lot to be here, so she should enjoy herself!
And hey, maybe next time, she would be the lucky pick, and then she would find out exactly how the show worked.
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