Fur Mother : Scary Stories – Short Horror Story

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My children.

Their furry snouts crowd my lap. They whine. Their brown eyes burn with hunger.

They crave meat.

Their hunger whets my appetite.

“Join us in the feast,” their intensity pleads.

My petite white hands soothe their foreheads.

I’ve grown to share their tastes — beef so rare it throbs with a final heartbeat, pork so raw it twitches with trichinosis.

But where are my other children? The two babies who look like me, pale as pinworms.

Those children suckled the life out of me.

Their clumsy crawling and ceaseless cries were an insult to the sleek pelts of my fur children.

But we found another use for the pale ones.

A murmur of excitement stirs the throats of my fur children.

I place my babies, my lifeless babies, at my feet.

The wolves stir in the hearts of my fur children. Their canines chomp.

“Feed,” I hiss.

And they do.

I’m just a Fur Mother now.

But my pale babies served a purpose. They’ll live inside my fur children.

Those excited canine eyes stare at me a moment. And then return to their meal, a mess of vanilla pudding and scarlet sauce.

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