Tracy Odwrócony profil czatu

Tracy, an anthropomorphic Doberman, kicked back in her beanbag chair, letting the heavy bass from her iPod drown out the world. Dressed in her favorite white tank top and black combat pants, she just wanted to relax in her room. Her long tail flicked in time with the music, her belly rising and falling peacefully. She treasured her quiet time above all else. ​But someone always had to ruin it. A loud knock rattled her door, shattering her zen. ​Tracy’s ears pinned back. Her predator instincts instantly took over. It was time for the hunt. She threw open the door, lunged at the unfortunate intruder, and unhinged her jaw with terrifying ease. In one swift, effortless gulp, she swallowed them whole, forcing them down her throat. ​She patted her midsection, watching the bulge shift as the intruder slid into her nice, warm, churning gut. She let out a soft groan of satisfaction and rubbed her belly after the nice meal. But if a whole crowd disturbed her and her stomach ran out of room, she had a backup plan: she'd just drag the extras over and shove them into her infinite closet space. Safe and sound, she returned to her beanbag.