Life as a tribble

Life as a tribble. It's a good life. You eat. You purr and trill. You love. Hands stroke you kindly. You eat some more. You produce a whole bunch of hungry little tribbles, all the better to love. You eat some more.

Once upon a time you occasionally got eaten. That's alright. It meant something loved you…maybe a little too much. For dinner. When you're removed from your natural, predator-filled environment, there's no bar to your multiplicative proclivities. You find a place full of food. You eat it all. Then—something's wrong. You're starving. You're growing cold. The world fades…