The Case of Edith Flock - A Vore Mystery (Part 1)
CW: Cursing and adult themes (sex, drugs, murder, violence) HARD VORE (will occur in other parts, but if you don't like it nor can handle it then don't read), ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+
A/N: This is my first vore story in 5-6 years, so cut me some slack plz. I've been struggling to really get back into the groove and felt like alot of my work was too bad or not hitting right. SO this is me actually making something "good enough" (imo). Also this will be a series, soo expect other parts to be uploaded.
[MISSING MONSTER] NAME: Edith Flock MISSING SINCE: 06/17/2024 D.O.B.: 09/23/1996 AGE: 28 SEX: F SPECIES: Spider RACE: Tarantula CLASSIFICATION: Prey DESCRIPTION: EYES: 8, black and white HAIR: Long and black, up to shoulders. WEIGHT: 200lb HEIGHT: 5’9 GLASSES: n/a SCARS: On back, claw marks in the center TATTOOS: n/a WEARING: Usual cleaning outfit (all black shirt and pants) with a blue apron over it, mix matched Converses, and yellow rubber gloves. LAST SEEN: Entering the Winking Rodent Motel at 11pm, clocking in for her shirt. IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION, PLEASE CALL 800-987-4052
No citizen of Monster City was surprised when Edith Flock’s poster was plastered everywhere. It was a place known for disappearances, a city flooded with creatures and humans that fought and ate each other with no consequence. She was one of thousands of missing people, lost in the sea of others who just left without a trace. Few had little left anyway, maybe a shoe or discarded wallet, but nothing identifiable. The police themselves were unphased, always five steps behind whatever caused the cases. They’d always get a report, hourly, on the desk of a detective and left them to their own devices. Especially fresh faces like Johannsson.
Detective Johannsson was just a few years removed from the academy, still rocking their dark blue rookie uniform despite getting a promotion. They gained favor from higher ranks when they helped bust a long-term money laundering scheme at a local casino and got the office opened by a retired veteran. The prior detective stepped down, stressed from the wave of missing reports and had grown overwhelmed. Many veterans had done the same, though this left more less-experienced officers to pick up the pieces and double their workload. But the juggling of handling massive piles of paperwork and increasingly reckless citizens started to drain the young faces.
So the satyr didn’t even blink when a hooded figure ambushed them right as they got to work, getting pulled into the alleway behind the precinct. They groaned, getting turnt over and pinned against the brick wall. The figure picked them up by the shirt collar, raising them to their high eye level, drooling. Johannsson groaned, smelling their meat scented breath as the figure licked their face with a long black tounge.
“FUCKING CREEP!” They yelled, kicking a cloven hoof against the figure. It didn’t budge, just letting out a grunt.
“Goat’s my favorite kind of meat.” It growled, using their free hand to pin their legs.
Johannsson still struggled, managing to slide a hand under their trench coat as the figure stared.
“I am not on the menu!’ They hissed, headbutting the person. It’s head knocked back, causing their hood to drop, revealing its face.
They were a male Collasel, a kind of humanoid known for their elongated but strong bodies and sharp teeth. He had grey and white skin, with long hair that covered his eyes. He let out a growl of annoyance, opening wide to show off his blackened maw. His gums were dark too, soaked in spit as he got ready to shove the satyr’s dome. Johannsson squirmed even more, getting a hold of their taser.
“Yummy goat, you’re gonna be a great gut snack!” He chuckled evily. “So stop struggling and get in!” He shut his eyes, tongue lolling out to show off his readied throat. Johansson struggled as he moved them right to his spread lips, taking the opportunity to raise the taser.
“TASER! TASER!” They yelled, shoving it into his maw. The wire probes shot out, lodging their plastic prongs right into his tonsils. Volts of electricity go ripping into his big mouth, lifting up the whole muscle all the way down his throat. The Collasel gagged and shrieked, dropping the satyr as he clutched at his throat in pain.
Smoke came out his maw as he dropped to his knees. The saytr let go of the taser, just watching him writhe in agony before the probes unlodged themselves. Tears streaming down his face, he splooted out onto his stomach, whimpering. The satyr breathed heavily, rising to their feet and kicked him hard in the jaw. They walked away in annoyance, hearing the Collasel groan before running off down the street.
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After clocking in, Johannsson sipped their usual coffee, black with sweented cream and milk mixed in it, while walking to their office. They stopped in front of the door with their name glued over the previous officer’s, scraping the letters beneath with their finger before opening it. Their horizontal eyes went wide as the door swung, spitting out their coffee onto their purple carpeted floor. Sitting right at their brown darkwood desk was their superior, Lieutenant Neilos Goswin, a minotaur. The massive guy was holding a folder.
The office had been bult for creatures of all kinds, accommodating his big form with a chair perfect for his size. The ceiling was high enough for 20 footers and less and the spiining fan was made of a soft material so if anyone bumped their head, it wouldn't hurt too much, and the desk was adjustable for any kind of arm and leg length. Johannsson had added some things of their own, like an attachable hoof cleaner to the door and decorated the space with items donated to them like painted flower vases and a woven curtain for their window.
They wiped their mouth, cleaning up the dampened spot on the floor with a napkin as the lieutenant addressed them. “Johannson, another person’s gone missing.” He started, seeing the satyr’s face shift into an annoyed look.
“And?!” They said snarkily, getting up.
“I need you to take the case, the Chief says you’d be perfect.” He replied incouragingly.
“Are you serious?” They snapped, tossing the wettened napkin into the trash. “I got 6 other cases to handle! He knows this!”
“I’m sorry but that’s what he’s directed.” The minotaur sighed, setting the folder on their desk.
“Can’t Celestial or her blue fucker of a parter take it?” They asked, collasping onto their brown swivel chair in annoyance.
“On other cases themselves.” He said, leaning foreward. “At least read the-
“Then talk to Hollyfield or Reckda!” They scoffed.
“They got other stuff to handle.” He pushed it closer to them. “Just read the report at least.”
“Fine, fucking hell.” They grumbled, taking the folder. Their eyes scanning the paper as the minotaur’s tail wagged.
“She’s been missing for some time. A relative reported it.”
“Yea, I saw it on the news.” They said, setting the paper down. “Why the folder?”
“Compiled it with others.” He said, watching them flip through the others. “All of them have one thing in common, the Winking Rodent motel.”
“No shit, its a sleezy fucking motel.” They rolled their eyes. “She probably met up with a fling and ran off or somethin’.”
“No, no. All of the people worked there.” He said sternly. “That’s why the Chief wants you to take the case.”
The saytr’s eyes widened, closing the folder. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” They rubbed their temples. “I told him that I never wanted to go back there!”
“You’re the only officer to have worked at the motel.” He sighed. “Use your experience to look for anything about Flock. Talk to residents, staff, and the family if you have to.”
They shook their head. “That place is scummy and sleexy and I never want to go back!”
The minotaur groaned. “You said it yourself, knowing eyes tell more than unaware ones.” He said, getting up.
They averted their gaze. “I’ll consider it. Notify her family that we’ll be looking into it.” They grumbled hearing him leave. The door slammed behind him as they moved back and forth in the chair.
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“Welcome to the Winking Rodent, enjoy the space between our walls.” Johannsson read, eyes scanning a glowing yellow rat-shaped sign. Their window wipers pushed away green rain as they pulled up to the run down motel. Its soft brown exterior welcomed her, windows lined with back chipped paint, revealing some rotting gray wood beneath. The glass of the windows were mostly cracked, some even boarded up. were boarded up, blocking the view of the space inside. Others had curtains drawn, the satyr managing to see figures in a few. One window wide open, two voices arguing loudly in the darkness before a gargoyle man in his trunks got shoved out the window. He landed right on his stone wings, groaning in pain as one shattered from impact.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” They huffed, eyes moving to look around the dingy parking lot. A whole rainbow of vehicles was there, ranging from a bone hearse that still had a coffin rattling inside to a simple family van that was decked out in bumper stickers. They looked for an open spot, passing a horse drawn carriage beside a sinkhole. Possibly dug by a mole person, it had a note attached saying “Reserved for underground travel.” They scoffed, stopping right by the pool's entrance. They could see past the wire gate the dark green water bubbling with something swimming around inside, stepping out their car.
It was a decommissioned MCP SUV, the sirens and lights taken off as it had been sold at an auction. The saytr had painted it seafoam for personality, popping the trunk to grab their suitcase.
“BZZP!” Their pocket radio crackled, getting their attention.
“How long am I gonna be here?” They asked into the static.
“A week, maybe two tops!” The voice on the other end said, being her superior’s.
“Seriously?!” They hissed, looking out to the street. “This place is fucking crazy!” Cars and creatures wizzed by, flying down M-94, a busy highway. It led people right to the Black Water Beach, being just 20 minutes away from the motel. One bird person flew into the parking lot, nodding to the satyr before stepping inside.
“Come on, you didn’t even check in!” Goswin said, audibly leaning back in his chair as he was comfy at his desk.
The satyr wiped rain off their face, opening their umbrella as they slammed the trunk close. “A FUCKING GARGOYLE GOT SHOVED OUT A WINDOW! I JUST FUCKING ARRIVED!”
“Well…it could get better…” He chuckled nervously.
“Lieutenant, I’m a prey, remember. Most of the people here can eat me!” They hissed, walking up to the motel’s entrance.
“Hey, you got your reformation kit right?” He asked.
“Yea. Always.” They said, pushing the door opened with a hooved foot. Their blue jeans hiked up as they stepped inside.
“Then you’ll be fine!” He beamed, the satyr shaking their umbrella. “Besides, that motel’s bound to have a reform pod in the basement!” He said, shutting off the radio. Over them, the rusted welcome bell rang, alerting whomever manned the front desk.
The satyr’s nose crinkled, plugging it with their free hand. The smell of dank, wet walls had mixed with fading cigarette smoke, spray tans, and b.o. flooded their nostrils. They groaned, rubbing their nose hard to get the smell out. The interior walls were olive green, the wallpaper peeling to reveal mustard yellow paint. They approached the front desk, ringing the small bell.
“Hello?” They called out, leaning foreward. No one was there, not even in the small side room beside the desk. It was cluttered with paperwork and old coffee, just adding to the gross smell.
They turnt to the side, seeing the motel’s Wall of Fame. Pictures were pinned to the corkboard, showing various familiar faces of the city, all of them amatuer shots. Most were blurry or too grainy, taken through the crack of a door or a window. But two caught their eyes: Niki Cherri and Jacob Tatalgia. Cherri, the avid fox adult film star and crime boss, was lying in a compromising postion with the ex-mayor of Monster City. And Tatalgia, a catshifter with connections as the possible Don of the same named family, was sitting up in bed with a blonde woman who was not his wife. He was in his human form, smoking with the woman while watching tv. What’s weird was that Johannsson recognized the man, having seen his photo up on the Chief’s conspiracy board, connecting him to a whole web of crimes.
“Hello, Johannson.” A heavy NorthEastern accent rang from behind them.
They quickly turned, seeing a massive rodent standing behind them. The giant brown rodent stood at 8 feet, towering over the satyr, holding a PlayMonster magazine. His brown fur was a bit greasy, much like his black hair that was slicked back with seaweed gel. He combed his dark pink hands through his hair, his tinted yellow-orangish glasses bouncing slightly. His round middle jiggled, barely covered by his black and white bowling shirt. He exhaled loudly, smirking right at them as he bent to be eye level.
“Ross…” They smiled angrily, an eye twitching. “Good morning, fucker.”
“Had one, bitch.” He hissed, his cigar tainted breath wafting in their gace.
“Hmm, I knew I smelt something bad.” They said, side eyeing him. “It was pretty strong, especially with the scnet of sad pervs and spray tans in the air.”
“What? Your own ass.” He huffed, shuffling behind the front deesk. Crossing his arms to reveal his fading gold watches.
“No. Disappointment.” They snapped, watching him bit his tounge.
He stared at her, muttering. “At least I ain’t a sell out, cunt.” He bent behind the desk, reaching for something. They braced, reaching for their taser, only to see him pull out an old brass key. “Room 251.”
“Why that room?”
“Got a call, you’re investigating abou that Flock girl” He said, fixing the mess on the desk. “I’m putting you in the last room she cleaned.” He lifted some papers, revealing a framed photo of her and other motel staff.
“Thanks.” They said, feeling a bit confused. “What do you know about her?”
He rolled his eyes, lighting a cigar. “Replacement for another cleaner. Worked pretty efficently but avoided certain rooms.”
Their eyes widened. “What rooms?”
He glanced at them, smirking. “Why don’t you get checked in then we’ll talk more.”
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Johannsson took the back stairs, moving against the rail to give a centaur space to pass. They entered Floor 2, walking down the light brown hallway, stopping at Room 251’s door. They noticed an abandoned cleaning cart next to it, a few items missing. “Odd.” They said, taking out the room key.
The lock clicked and they entered, scoffing at the horrible brown wallpaper. They groaned at the cheese icons on the wall, setting their suitcase by the glass door closet. The smell of bleach and cleaning products was in the air, seeing a few bottles spread across the room. They supposed she left them there, probably to use the restroom or something. The bed in the center of the room was white with blue sheets, neatly made with fluffed pillows. The carpet beneath was a soft grey, stained in certain spots. The tv was off, a paper taped to it saying how to flip through channels. They noticed two chairs, one resting by the small table in the room and the other situated in the corner facing the bed.
After getting situated, they pulled out their polaroid camera, checking the film. “Still some left.” They muttered, turning it on. They snapped a few photos, showing the bed and cleaning products. They crouched down, looking under the bed for anything. A dusty name tag was in the middle, reaching under to grab it. It was Edith’s, her name smudged from sharpie. They snapped a picture too, the flash illuminating under the bed.
“What are you doing?” Ross said, startling the satyr.
They crawled out, shaking the name tag clean. “Searching for clues.” They said, sitting on their knees.
“You’d want to look at this.” He said, stepping inside, holding a rolled up packet.
“Let me guess, layout of the hotel?”
He unrolled it for them, showing all floors of the motel. From the lobby to the top floor, he had circled areas Edith never went. Floors 1-3 had six rooms circled, being Rooms 101, 105, 204, 317, 333, and 352. Their eyes scanned the paper, nodding as thoughts ran through their head.
“I’ll start from the bottom and work my way up.” They said, snapping a picture on their phone of it. “I’ll call if I need you.”
Ross just noded back, exiting the room. Johannsson waited a second, listening to his footsteps fade, before rummaging through their suitcase, pulling out their gun and badge. They put the weapon in their back pocket, hiding it under their button up Hawaiian shirt, attaching their badge to a belt loop. They clicked on the camera’s strap, sliding it over their neck. The room key going back in their pocket as they left.
They took out their phone, looking at the picture. “First stop, Room 101.” They mumbled, going back downstairs.