I usually put these at the bottom, but I am going to announce a trigger warning here. This story briefly mentions blood. It’s not something extremely graphic, but you’ve been warned for those not into any mentions of hemoglobin. To be clear, though, I am NOT usually a fan of hard vore, but I felt it was thematically appropriate for this occasion.

Thanks again to  WhiteIronWolfBuck for this super awesome custom YCH! In honor of Halloween, I’ve decided to do something more terrifying. This series is not canon, but I hope you enjoy it all the same.

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Pan was afraid of many things, but he felt a calm under the blood moon. Most saw the crimson celestial body reddening the skies as an omen. Pam enjoyed the total lunar eclipse for what it was: a rare astronomical occurrence that happened to align with the spookiest day of the year. As Pan lifted his head from his telescope’s eyepiece, his still mind began spiraling back into familiar anxious patterns.

“People used to believe a moon like this could make someone go crazy.” Pan thought to himself. “If that were true, I’m glad I’m by myself… where no one can hear me scream…” Pan gulped at the thought of being jumped out here. Even though the wilderness was familiar territory for the red panda, who knew what delinquency was hidden by the trees. “Okay, time to head back before I make myself go crazy,” Pan joked to himself as he packed his gear.

Treading along the worn path, Pan’s eyes scanned from left to right. He had traveled this path a few times during the day, but the night had a way of distorting reality to its most frightening forms. The familiar leafy canopies became a fluttering wall of black that hid dangers only his imaginations fathomed. To his sides, the foliage simply were dark blobs that rustled to the movement of wind or beast. Pan tried his best to keep his usually flighty instincts from hijacking his rationality. He was going to be okay after all, as long as he remained on the right path.

“ Wait, what?” Pan blurted to himself. Standing at a fork in the Pan, now looked down at the splintered wooden sign that usually marked the trail. Pan pondered the idea of a group of teenagers doing this; he knew how unfathomably strong some youngsters could be from high school. Yet there was something carnal about this tear as if something massive collided with the sign. He’d have to report this to the rangers… if he could get back.

Pan began walking towards the left branch but paused. “Was that the right direction?” he muttered. Turning around, he found himself trying to retrace his memory. “I think I came from this way; my footprints are still fresh here. Wait, are those my footprints?” Both paths were riddled with bumps from various hikers treading along these trails, but a pair of oversized pressings caught his eye. The paw prints were massive and 4 toed; Pan thought they were canid, but he hadn’t seen a dog like this before. It appeared the beast came from the left path and entered the right. Assuming these prints were created simultaneously, Pan decided to follow the left branch to avoid the mysterious hulking creature.

Treading forward with a shakier hand, Pan hoped his choice was correct. He was rewarded with a monstrous site. About 10 minutes into the path was a camp. Or instead what was left of a camp. Scattered remains of torn tents and clothing strewed the grounds.

“Did I just enter a horror movie?” Pan thought to himself as he looked around. The camp seemed to have supported a sizable group, but all Pan heard was silence. Not a single snore or distant chatter was heard; instead, Pan listened to a distant thumping and… crying?

Unsettled, Pan snuck into the treeline and began walking along the camp’s perimeter. It didn’t take long for Pan to find the source of the noise. Pan made out the outline of a hulking towering creature holding a female bunny no older than a high school senior from his new vantage point. The pair were posed by an unlit bonfire. Illuminated by firelight, the bunny tried her best to pry herself free. Eclipsing the flames, the beast simply snarled.

“P-p-please, let me go!” The young woman cried. The beast simply opened his mouth wide. As the maiden’s scream elevated, it was soon muffled by a cavern of fangs. The beast turned himself at an angle that obscured his devouring to Pan, but Pan knew the actions of a pred well. He could tell by how quickly the woman’s torso disappeared into the beast’s shadow that it was ravenously hungry. Yet something about the creature’s eating struck Pan’s experienced mind with terror. Every time the beast used its fangs to secure its prey after gulping, it bit with such force that a squirt seemed to eject outwards from the jaws of the creature with every chew. Pan forced his imagination to restrain itself from processing the carnal display. In no time at all, the beast gulped down the last of his prey. After this course, Pan’s imagination did not need to work itself to visualize how engorged the beast’s stomach would be. Slowly the figure repositioned itself to allow Pan to see its full girth.

The first thing Pan couldn’t help noticing was the sheer girth of the beast’s gut. Pan had never seen a stomach so large or as compacted as this creature before. The surface of this zeppelin-like distention writhed violently from the forces of the beast’s still living victims. Pan’s moment of terror was broken by a shocking revelation as more of the camp light shone on the beast. “White fur, brown belly button. No, it couldn’t be.” Pan thought.

Soon more of the beast’s features came to light, leaving Pan’s jaws agape. The gnarly thick clawed hands confirmed Pan’s prediction the creature was some sort of wolf. As the light reached the beast’s neck, Pan couldn’t bear to see more. He may have had already gone mad from the blood moon. Pan tried to trek back into the wilds and return to the fork to find another path home. The clumsy red panda ended up stumbling into his doom. The snap of a twig was all it took for the ravenous monstrosity to come sprinting his way. In those last seconds, Pan could have tried running or grabbed a weapon to defend himself. Instead, all he could do was stare at the wicked canid’s eyes so blue, so feral yet so familiar, and utter one word in a whimper.

“Hund?”