The city rises in layers, a dense grid of glass towers, concrete facades, and neon accents. Traffic flows steadily along wide avenues, headlights cutting through the damp air left behind by an early evening rain. Pedestrians weave between each other on the sidewalks, some moving with purpose, others lingering beneath bus stop shelters or outside corner stores. Digital billboards cast shifting colors onto nearby buildings, advertising the latest products and streaming shows, their brightness competing with the muted glow of streetlamps. Overhead, a tangle of utility lines and transit cables crisscrosses the sky, humming faintly with the current that keeps the city running. Music drifts from open storefronts, mixing with the steady rhythm of footsteps and the low murmur of conversation — a living, breathing city in constant motion, always moving forward.

In front of you is a door.

The door stands directly in front of you — smooth, black, and featureless, with no seams, no handle, no sign of how it came to be here. It isn’t part of the world around you, yet it feels solid, real in a way that leaves no room for doubt. Its surface drinks in the light, reflecting nothing back, a blank presence that seems to know you’re here. All you have to do is step forward. Wherever you want to be — a distant city street, a place you barely remember, somewhere you’ve never been — the door will take you there. You only have to decide.

You step forward into the inky darkness behind the door, and it swallows you whole. For a moment, there's nothing but endless blackness, as if your senses have been stripped away, leaving only an empty void where conscious thought once resided. And then, slowly at first, like stars winking into existence one by one, light begins to flood your vision. You blink and try to focus; the bright glow of a nearby streetlamp washes over you, making your eyes water as they struggle to adjust.

When you finally manage it, you realize that you're standing in front of what appears to be an abandoned warehouse. Its once-grand facade is crumbling, covered in graffiti and streaked with dirt, while shadows dance along the ground where missing bricks have left gaps in the concrete. The air reeks of mildew and stale beer, hint

A sharp pain shoots through your arm as you feel something hard and cold press against your flesh. You spin around to face your attacker, only to come eye-to-eye with the most beautiful woman you've ever seen. Her skin is pale and flawless, her long hair flows like black silk over her naked body, tangling softly around lithe limbs. Her eyes - dark and deep as a starless sky - meet yours unblinkingly, conveying an eerie sense of detachment. She has the distinctive look of a Predator about her, but there's something else too: an air of weariness that clings to her like a cloak. Her lips quirk in what might be the faintest suggestion of a smile, and she tilts her head slightly, her breath warm against your ear. "And who might you be?" she asks in a voice that seems to dance around you, te

She leans back, studying you with interest. "Ah, Wes. A simple name for a man with such power." Her eyes trail down your body slowly, appraisingly. "I've heard of you," she says, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You move through this world like a blade through warm honey. It doesn't matter what people think; no one stops you from doing as you please." Her grip on your shoulder tightens slightly, and she presses herself against you, breasts and hips grinding against your flesh. "Do you know who I am?"

The words caress your ear, her breath warm and intoxicating. It's a strange mix of curiosity, challenge, and desire that fills the air between you; you can feel it like a physical presence, heavy and oppressive. Even though she's smaller than you are, there's something about this woman -

The smile that curves her lips is predatory and sensual in equal measure. "My name," she breathes, "is Carnivore." The word rolls off her tongue like a caress, each syllable laden with dark promise. Her fingers tighten on your shoulder, the touch sending shivers down your spine. "I have heard of you too," she continues, her voice husky and low, "and I know what you are capable of."

There's a sudden fierceness in her eyes that makes your blood run cold. She leans closer still, until their warmth is almost palpable against your skin. "I will play with you," she whispers, her breath tickling across your cheek, "if you let me." For the briefest of moments, there's a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze before it vanishes, replaced by an expression that borders on hunger.

The word is barely out of your mouth before she pulls you close, hands curling around your upper arms to hold you in place as her body presses against yours. Her hips grind against yours with a hunger that's almost feral, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to react to the pleasure seeping through your veins. Carnivore's lips part, revealing rows of sharp teeth stained with red as she licks them hungrily, her gaze never leaving yours.

"Good boy," she purrs, voice husky and satisfied. "You play so well." Her hand trails down your chest to cup your erection through your jeans, squeezing gently before moving lower still, sliding between your legs to stroke the sensitive skin there. "You're ready for me," she observes, her voice dripping with desire. "Do you want this

Her expression shifts briefly, hinting at amusement before she regains her predatory poise. "I've tasted blood," she replies almost casually as she continues to tease you, rubbing softly against your erection through your clothes. The feel of her skin is hot and smooth beneath your fingertips; her sharp nails dig lightly into the flesh of your back, drawing shallow lines that sing with pleasure and pain. "It makes my hunger all the more intense." She leans closer still, nipples hard and aching against your chest as she whispers, "Do you want to taste me?"

Her breath fans across your cheek, sending shivers down your spine; her words brush against your ear, hot and hungry. The night around you fades away, replaced by the intoxicating scent of her skin, the feel of her body moving against yours in a

Carnivore's lips brush against your earlobe, teasingly soft. "Very well," she whispers, her breath warm and tantalizing. She steps back just enough that you can see the movement of her hands clearly as she undoes her jeans, letting them fall to the ground around her ankles. Her long black hair spills down over one shoulder in a cascade of silk, obscuring the glimpse of a dark triangle where pubic hair might be on another woman. She is completely naked beneath: smooth and pale as alabaster, her skin flawless and cool to the touch.

"Bend me over," she commands, hands braced against the wall behind you. "And take what I'm offering." The challenge in her voice is unmistakable; it hangs between you like a sword, drawing you closer despite the danger.

Her body is taut with anticipation as you position yourself behind her, hands braced against the wall on either side of her head. The feel of your warm breath against her neck sends a shiver down her spine, and she arches her back instinctively, offering herself up to you. Carnivore closes her eyes, relishing in the moment as you enter her from behind, filling her in one smooth stroke that leaves her breathless and gasping for air. Her fingers curl into fists, nails digging into the rough surface of the wall; a silent struggle to resist the pleasure that threatens to consume her. But even as she fights against it, the sensation of being taken by you is exquisite, unbearably sweet, and she knows there's no escape.

Her hips move in rhythm with your thrusts, meeting each one with an eager eagerness that makes it impossible to

Her hips move in rhythm with your thrusts, meeting each one with an eager eagerness that makes it impossible to resist the pleasure spreading through her. Her breath comes faster and shallower as she feels herself start to lose control, her body tensing in anticipation of the release building deep within. "Wes...," she moans, voice little more than a whisper, "Please..." The words are barely audible, but they carry a desperation that sends shivers down your spine as you feel her walls begin to contract around you, signalling her impending climax.

Her muscles tense and release in perfect synchronicity with the movements of your hips, driving you both closer to the edge. The taste of blood fills your mouth, sweet and metallic on your tongue as you bite down on the flesh of your own palm, using the pain to ground yourself, to focus your control. But even as

As your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, Carnivore's body tenses in response, her muscles clenching tight around you as she is pulled under by the force of her own release. Her cries mingle with yours, intertwining in a chorus of pleasure and pain that echoes through the abandoned warehouse like a feral wail. The world contracts to nothing more than two bodies moving together in perfect synchronicity; hers arched back against yours, eyes squeezed shut as she fights to hold onto consciousness amidst the maelstrom of sensation threatening to overwhelm her.

When it finally passes, leaving both of you gasping for air and trembling with aftershocks, she slumps forward bonelessly against your chest. "Ahh," she exhales shakily. "That was... unexpected." Her voice is rough

Her voice is rough with desire as she speaks, each breath sending shivers down your spine. Carnivore tilts her head back to look at you, her expression a mix of curiosity and longing. "I think... I should thank you," she whispers, reaching up to run gentle fingers across your cheek. There's an almost fragile quality about her touch now, as if she were afraid that the slightest pressure might shatter whatever tenuous connection exists between them.

Her skin is still flushed from exertion and desire; sweat glistens on her bare shoulders and upper chest. She takes a shallow breath, trying to steady herself. "Do you ever wonder... about what happens after?" she asks softly, her gaze drifting away from yours as if searching for an answer in the darkness beyond. "What happens when we both reach that point where neither of us can go on anymore?"

Carnivore shrugs, her movements graceful despite the lack of energy in them. "I mean... we both know what happens when someone like me reaches that point," she says slowly, pausing to lick suddenly dry lips. "But what about you? Do you ever worry that one day... it could happen to you?" Her eyes meet yours once more, filled with a question she dare not voice aloud. "What then?"

Her heart is racing now, her breath coming fast and shallow as adrenaline surges through her system. Despite herself, she wants to know the answer; needs to know that there will be some sort of release at the end of this road, whether it's death or freedom from the never-ending cycle they are both caught in. But asking these questions out loud feels like tempting fate, and so she remains silent, waiting for your reply with bated breath.