title: Brand New Size to a Brand New Animal aliases: [] tags: [FA] author: [Kyrm] id: [47406884] date: 星期四, 十一月 10日 2022, 1:37:15 凌晨 modified: 星期四, 十一月 10日 2022, 1:53:32 凌晨

[TOC]

Brand New Size to a Brand New Animal

Author: Kyrm Source: Brand New Size to a Brand New Animal [Commission]

Beastmen don't take kindly to humans in Anima City, but Kenji has a horny need that only their kind could possibly satisfy. Blowing his savings on a unique "smuggling operation," he gets shrunken down and shipped over. Things go south when he offends his smuggler; he ends up in the hands of tomboy tanuki Michiru Kagemori.

It was Kenji’s first time in Anima City. Chances were, his last—here or anywhere else. It had been a mad dash from the docks after that woman tossed him over her shoulder like trash.

“Hey! Wait up!” he had called after, what remained of his voice a squeak drowned out in the city’s bustle. If his smuggler heard him, she wasn’t interested in listening. Making off with his wallet, his phone, his keys and clothes. This wasn’t some dead-of-night robbery at gunpoint. She didn’t need a weapon and she did it in broad daylight. Taking her sweet time on the getaway, as though she hadn’t done a thing wrong. Her slowest most casual stride outpaced Kenji at full sprint.

“You don’t need a ‘weasel’ to take you anywhere,” she called back irately. “Find the club on your own. Just don’t get flattened on the way, eh? Also: I’m a mink!” With that, the nearest crowd absorbed her and Kenji found it impossible to pursue.

From the smallest mouse to the largest elephant, every beastman in Anima City could only be described one way:

Gigantic.

He had been a tall guy, six feet. A poke from that woman’s syringe had cut him down to a twentieth of that. Three inches. Ankle-high to the average adult. Not quite a bug, but helpless as one. And the antidote? In the paws of that beastman. Hours had passed and Kenji still hid in the same crack at the base of a brick shop—he stood just small enough to remain undetected. Tucked away he watched bus-sized paws and shoes and sandals on their thunderous procession across concrete turf.

He debated throwing himself onto the street come what may. Considering the why for his trip, it was almost an appealing option.

“You’d be surprised how many of you humans are into this stuff,” his smuggler had told him while giving the syringe’s needle a preparatory flick. “It’s great for me. Smuggling a regular-sized human into Anima City is such a hassle. Too conspicuous. But with this…” The needle stung its way inside Kenji’s right shoulder to dispense its chilly formula into his bloodstream. The instant it came out his head started to swim. He swayed woozily on his feet, doing a drunken stumble out of one oversized shoe then the other. Clothing sagged into spaces his body no longer filled. The short weasel—mink, as she would later harshly remind him—was looking less short by the second, her smug smile trained lower and lower.

Everything went dark. He thrashed in a sea of warm fabric, wardrobe a collapsed circus tent all around. Groping fingers thick as logs furled around his nude body and brought him outside to a changed world, a bigger world.

That little smile dominating his view didn’t look quite as little now that they could part to slurp him up like a flesh-colored noodle.

“…no one will spot you.”

She was right, hours spent lurking and no one had. Kenji knew he would have to beg for help, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when he would be at the complete mercy of the first beastman who found him. Most humans were prejudiced against beastmen, and most beastmen naturally resented humans for that; which was why Anima City had been built in the first place. So if a beastman were to find a human like Kenji at a convenient stress doll size, well…

He hid past sunset, watching buildings light up the dark. Neon blues and pinks slanted through the crack and painted his pale little body. Literal foot traffic slowed then stopped altogether. Hand trailing coarse brick, he inched towards the exit. This was it. Now or never. With a deep breath, he went to step outside the—

Boom.

City lights snuffed with the explosive descent of a red-and-white wall. He had been hair’s breadth from being pulped beneath that enormous sneaker’s tread. The startled shout he gave would’ve sounded masculine back on mainland at 20 times his current height. Down here? It was the sort of squeak that made him more like common vermin.

He clamped a hand over his mouth too late to silence himself. The sporty shoe still blocked his exit; at this size he could see every grit-plugged crack from its years of wear. Over the distant din of car engines and honking horns, he swore he heard a girl’s confused, “Huh?”

The shoe retreated and so did Kenji, creeping towards the deepest point of the crevice.

An immense palm thudded down to the ground. He worked his back flush against rough-cut brick to stay far from a wide eye—iris blue at the top, strangely pink at the bottom—filling the crack. It blinked at him. “Is that…” the woman murmured while lifting her head from view.

“G-get back!” Kenji cried as her claw-tipped fingers crowded through the crevice. Chestnut-furred digits all large or larger than him, crammed together to worm deeper. Thumb and pinky fingers both clamped around his right thigh then ripped him from hiding. In the open air he kicked and punched while dangling by one leg.

His struggles came to a standstill as he saw those tabletop-sized eyes, both crossed to stare him down. The city’s neon lights pooled there, their surfaces gleaming reflectively. Mirrors that let Kenji see himself how she did. Gravity left his hairdo to hang; limbs dangled overhead; and, as the woman observed:

“You’re completely naked!”

A spasm of her startled hand flung Kenji into the air. He somersaulted a few times on the way down then landed in her outstretched hand; she let out a panicked sound as he slipped through her grasp and fell farther. She caught him again, dropped him again, caught, dropped, caught, dropped: flustered into a game of hot potato with herself.

“Sorrysorrysorry!” she blurted throughout.

The air thumped out of Kenji’s chest in a whoof as he landed back-first on something soft. Someone soft. His elbows sank into supple ground as he propped himself by them. It took a second to process—springy skin; combed-down furs of a pale, coppery color; thick-and-wide athletic trunks…

Thighs.

Kenji’s captor knelt on the sidewalk and he was sprawled in the crook of her legs. He took the slender tomboy in from his shrunken vantage. She was a big girl: building-big. Snug in athletic short-shorts, an unzipped red track jacket over a casual tee with wrinkles that climbed her body like footholds on a cliff.

A beastman. Copper-furred most of the way through, with a cute black dot of an animal nose. Blue-haired, black catlike ears… a chestnut mask around the eyes that made her species a dead-ringer. A tanuki, staring down in shock, fists balled at her chest as if afraid to lower them towards him.

In that moment Kenji was reminded why he made the trip out here to begin with:

She is beautiful.

Evidently she didn’t share the sentiment.

“Ow!” Kenji squeaked as he skidded onto the sidewalk’s concrete.

The tanuki had hopped to her feet. “Ah, sorry again,” she said, doubling over hands-to-knees so she could look down at him. “Sort of freaked me out there. You alright?”

“Yeah,” Kenji lied, sitting upright to rub the back of his tender head.

“What are you?” The woman slowly lowered herself into a squat to get a better look. “Some kind of mouse beastman?”

Kenji made a point of keeping one hand over his exposed crotch at all times. After getting on his feet, he answered, “A human.”

The woman’s cocked brow said she refused to believe it.

“I am!” he insisted.

“Uh-huh.” In the background, her fluffy blue forest of a tail dusted the air. “You are aware humans usually come in bigger sizes than…” She tapped her pinky tip-down next to him. “…that.” A perfect match, him and a girl’s finger.

“I swear,” said Kenji. “A weasel shrank me.”

“A weasel?” the woman snapped her hand back as she soared upright again. “You wouldn’t happen to mean a mink, would you?”

“Yeah, I do actually. I didn’t know there was a difference until today.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I wanted to… visit Anima City. Except it’s tough to get in as a human, so I hired someone to smuggle me. She was supposed to, uh, drop me off somewhere, but when I mistook her for a weasel she got defensive and ditched me at the docks.”

The tanuki rubbed her chin, nodding along as if the story made perfect sense. “At your size, you’re lucky that’s all she did.”

“So you know her?”

“You could say that.” Fists to her hips, she scrutinized Kenji with a frown. “So she’s shrinking people to smuggle them over now? That’s crazy even for her. What was so worth it that you made yourself a pipsqueak to come to Anima City? Don’t you know it’s dangerous for humans?”

Kenji opened his mouth only to snap it shut. He had an answer, the name of a particular establishment with a particular clientele:

The Open Maw.

But he decided the less she knew of the particulars, the better. Besides, for how intimidating it was to chat with someone the size of an apartment building, he couldn’t deny this tanuki was cute. After a few suspicious stammers, Kenji managed, “Is it safe to keep talking out here?”

The tanuki snapped her head around in search of passersby. There were none. Yet. “Guess just about anyone could snatch a little guy like you out here.” Wearing a cocky grin, she buffed a knuckle to her chest. “Luckily for you, it turned out to be me.” She patted her hips, brow creasing as she seemed to lose herself in thought. “Right. No pockets.” Under her breath: “Gotta keep him somewhere, though.”

“In your shoe?” It was out of Kenji’s mouth before he could stop himself.

“My… shoe.” He froze beneath her questioning frown. “Look, I’m impressed that you’re chivalrous enough to not take a daring leap and ask to dive right under my shirt—a lot of guys would—but I don’t think you’d survive going toe-to-toe with me.” She snickered at her own wit. “Get it?”

“It’s alright!” He sounded overenthusiastic to his own ears. “I’m tough.”

Her snicker blossomed into a full-blown snort. “Yeah, real tough.” Before Kenji could react, the toe of the tanuki’s sneaker barreled towards him with the force of an oncoming train. It eased at the last moment, and a bone-breaking kick became a comparatively gentle shove that knocked him onto his back. “My bad.” But she giggled while apologizing, a hand over her mouth. “You okay?”

“Like I said…” Kenji got back onto his trembling feet. His heart had never beat this fast—she could have destroyed him with a single kick. “…tough.”

The tanuki’s scowl returned as she looked him over like an interviewer with a prospective employee. She sighed her scrutiny away. “Whatever.” Swooping onto one knee, she began fiddling with shoelaces thick as suspension cables. “It’s sensible, I guess. Better to mask your scent. Don’t really want to find out what would happen if a lion beastman sniffed out a tiny human.”

“So you’ll do it?”

She paused in untying her shoes, lopsided smile peeking curiously above her knee. “You don’t need to sound so excited. It’s my sneaker, not a first-class airplane.”

“No, I meant you’ll help me?” Except she had been on the money the first time. He was excited over that sneaker.

“I’m not gonna leave you out on the street where anyone can get you.” Laces undone, she popped her sock-clad foot out from its confines. The sneaker flopped sideways with a tap of her finger. Steam vented out the shoe’s yawning mouth like hot breath into the crisp evening air. Tendrils of secondhand body heat kissed goosebumps along Kenji’s bare skin. “We better hurry. This street’s usually busy all night.”

But Kenji refused to enter. “It’d be safer inside your sock.”

“Inside my sock?” The tanuki flinched her head back in shock. “You’re a human, right? You know those things you have called lungs? They need air. You’ll suffocate.”

“I’ll be fine.” He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Right here. Naked. In the middle of the street with a complete stranger. Survival had been on his mind only seconds ago. “It’s your sock that would suffocate me if I was outside. On the inside, I can… I can breathe between your toes.”

Sweat beaded around his brow. This request carried an embarrassing amount of weight for him. For the tanuki and her puzzled little frown, it just seemed like crazy talk. “I don’t know…”

“There are people coming!” Kenji cried.

She snapped her head to stare down the street. A strangled sound escaped her on seeing the couple waiting at a crosswalk that just turned green. “Okay, you win!” she hissed, ripping the sock off her foot. Right after she snatched Kenji from the sidewalk and leveled him with her stern face. “But when we get back, I am getting you some clothes, got that?”

Reduced to a bewildered head poking out her fist, he blinked stupidly until she shook him a little. “Yes, ma’am,” he managed.

“This is so weird,” the tanuki whined. With that she let Kenji plummet, feet immediately touching down on warm cotton. Fabric bristled against his back while he slid into the black tube’s bowels. An abrupt stop cut his momentum off at the very bottom. He sprawled like an animal in a net trap, limbs drawn upwards along the sock’s inner walls.

A worried-looking eye glared in to see if he was alright. Distant laughter made that eye dart to its corner, then retreat from sight. Cotton twanged above Kenji as a sock cuff capable of swallowing him whole strained to its limits for five new visitors. From a pinky plump as a yoga ball to that bruiser of a big toe thicker than a king-sized mattress, all her scrunched digits raced down to meet him.

The sock ran taut around its owner’s intruding tank of a foot. All at once her toes swarmed Kenji and his surroundings. He was compressed into the padded footbed, buried beneath feminine flesh. Webbing between two toes caught him by the chin. Doughy skin of flanking digits seized the sides of his head like he was a pea-sized pebble picked up on the road.

A subtle climate of baked-in body heat became an oppressive atmosphere from another planet. With the sock’s main vent plugged and the tanuki imprisoning her foot inside a sneaker, the air turned to a swelter. Breaths drafted stale, steamy lungfuls recycled from the shoe’s arid innards.

The tanuki began easing her sole down with extreme caution, inflicting extra ounces of herself onto the human plastered underfoot. Each graceful fraction of her weight felt like another ton of bricks clumsily piled atop Kenji, an incredible burden pushed through the ball of the foot trapping him neck to toe. Pudgy skin bore down on his helpless body, sensually soft as it depressed him into the sneaker’s cushy insole.

He wondered if she would’ve been this caring had she known why he wanted to play stowaway in her sock.

All at once he sensed an alleviation of her crushing weight. Gravity’s gentle pull separating them by a trace amount. The tanuki had taken a step forward, lifting her foot off the ground. That moment her sole eased a centimeter off his chest, it swelled with a deep, desperate breath. She had stepped hard enough on him that his lungs had been unable to inflate. Now he realized her every step on this trip would dictate when he could and could not breathe.

Gently, carefully, she stepped on him again. The oxygen pedaled out his lungs in a wheezy rasp. Faster to stop worrying over whether or not she would splat him: she stepped off. Toe-perfumed air came in a long, life-giving huff through his open-mouthed inhalation.

Kenji had an extreme awareness of her every step. At this size, in this space—this girl’s right foot became his existence. He could feel his shrunken body’s precariousness: the way his flexible ribcage creaked; athletic arms, strong legs and yet if not for the yielding insole dimpling into a tattoo of his body, they all would’ve snapped like twigs.

But he wasn’t snapping. He was surviving the crowded iron lung of toe pudge and foot flesh. An incredible achievement, each time marked by the tremendous sound of the tanuki’s sneaker tread hammering concrete. A fireworks-loud boom to diminished eardrums.

Her steps struck down with newfound confidence, faster and heavier as his protector turned careless.

Any other man would’ve been ashamed to be here—drowning beneath a beastman’s foot.

Disgusted, too. His nude body smeared into the ball of her soft sole. The toe crotch lapping at his face, teasing a subtle sweaty tang against his lips whenever he opened his mouth to breathe.

Terrified, without a doubt. Because one wrong step could be a broken bone or that much worse.

Arousal. The word wouldn’t cross their minds. Unless, that is, they had come here to visit The Open Maw.

Somewhere in Anima City was a sex parlor. Only there was no sex involved—not the normal sort, at least. High-paying human clients got their shrinking shot on the mainland, dwindled down, got smuggled over, had their fun and then grew back once they were taken out of Anima City.

It was insane, even to Kenji who had wanted this for longer than he was comfortable admitting. But when he heard the rumors about such a place existing, his want had become a desperate need. Dollar by dollar he had saved up at his dead-end job. Most of the clients were rich guys looking for a quick thrill. Not him. This was akin to a religious pilgrimage: he had bottomed his bank account to zero for the sensory privilege of disappearing beneath a beastman’s foot.

He had wanted nothing more in life than to flinch in tandem with a woman’s careless footfalls. To feel the relentless kiss of her sole insisting him deeper and deeper into a sneaker—until he felt like he was more insole than human. To shudder as sweat-lubed skin glided frictionless over an erection this tanuki didn’t know he had.

Kenji was a sub.

He was a sub’s sub. Being dominated by a woman wasn’t enough, not when he was taller and stronger. He had a desperate need to be dwarfed. Overpowered. Sexually obliterated.

It wasn’t shameful, disgusting, or terrifying. Not to him. To put it simply: this was better than sex.

Delirium set in. He was drunk off heady feminine fumes and the subtlest veneer of sweat. Whenever her toe crotch kissed his face, Kenji kissed back. Whimpers of passion carried no farther than the shoe’s muffling confines.

The tanuki’s perfect sole didn’t just stomp, it fucked. Mashing his sensitive manhood into his abdomen, leaving the inches-tall human aching with a desperate urge for release. Release he couldn’t give himself. His hands were buried down there with the rest of him. Same as her control over his breath, his right to life, the tanuki also had complete unwitting command of his puny prick.

In his horny fugue he didn’t notice when the pummeling came to a sudden stop. Nor did he recognize the cotton peeling off his back. Too busy making love to a stranger’s toe pit.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Until her voice boomed sobriety back into Kenji that is. Clenching toes splayed apart from his face. A wave of the tanuki’s foot cast him from heaven. His back struck a polished wooden floor and he stayed down.

Room temperature nipped with an unpleasant chill after stewing in hundred-degree temperatures for a solid ten minutes. His vision swam, eyes squinting at ceiling lights that stung like the sun. And while the rest of Kenji stayed limply tenderized, his erection pointed straight towards the ceiling—too eager to come down.

A shadow fell over him, a new view interposing his view of the ceiling. He saw her brow punched together. Noted thin lips moving though he had no clue what she was saying.

“What?” he croaked.

“I said—” And to emphasize that he ought to pay attention to a cross giantess, she smashed her fist onto the floor next to him. “—are you some kind of pervert?”

The thump of her fist had Kenji up fast as an electric shock from a defibrillator. Oh, he had fucked up bigtime. Hands over his crotch, he stood a disheveled wreck, shivering beneath the stern glare of the tanuki kneeling ahead of him.

“Rhetorical question,” she snapped, also snapping her fingers inches from his face—a sound loud enough to be mistaken for gunfire. “What sort of grift are you and that mink running, pipsqueak?”

“No grift, no grift!” Kenji had found his voice. He had also found the strength to hold his hands out, waving them around to emphasize that he and that woman were not involved. After a few frantic waves he realized his mistake and covered himself up again.

She hadn’t flattened him yet—probably a good sign. Her scolding expression had yet to subside, however. She knelt with her arms crossed. Kenji couldn’t handle that glare for long, shying his gaze around the room. A bedroom, single and without much to it.

With judge, jury, and executioner looming ahead, he did the one thing he could:

Fill the silence with an uncomfortable truth.

He told her the reason he paid. His crazy little fantasies tantamount to death wishes. Reluctantly, about The Open Maw.

“And when you found me, I... I couldn’t help myself. You’re beautiful.” That last word caused her ears to flick back. Her stony face refused to give away whether it was a positive or negative reaction. “I’m sorry, I...” Kenji trailed off out of respect for the interjecting finger the tanuki held up. He opted to blush in silence, humiliated while waiting for a verdict.

“Michiru,” the giantess grumbled, pouting a cheek out and swiftly looking away.

“What?” said Kenji.

She turned her head to squint down her nose at him. “You went to town on my foot without bothering to wine and dine it and now I don’t get to know your name?”

“Kenji!” he blurted before shyly adding, “Michiru is a... nice name, ma’am.”

“Ma’am.” Michiru scoffed. “I’m 18, dude. Pretty sure you’re older than me.”

“It seemed appropriate, size and all.”

“Guess it is.” Her eyes gleamed with some hidden thought. “I can be ma’am, and you can be squirt. How’s that, squirt?”

“You’re not mad?” Kenji was surprised to see her smile.

“Don’t you worry, I’m mad.” A pause hinted at there being a but at the end of that sentence.

“Thank you for not crushing me.” Kenji gave her a respectful bow.

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“I… didn’t say that.”

“No.” Michiru heaved herself backwards, butt pounding the floorboards. Her massive legs unfurled, kicked forward in a high arc. Kenji craned his neck to watch them rise, then panicked as they hurtled downwards. Both mighty heels hammered the floor inches from his side: left foot still in its shoe, right bare. They tilted towards one another, touching at their tips to form a gable over his head.

“...but it’s true, yeah?” she said while tapping her toes together like a slow metronome.

“I—”

“Easy, pal,” she talked over him in a laidback manner, resting her elbows onto the low bedside at her back. “You’re a little weirdo. I get it.” Michiru’s continued toe-tapping made it difficult to concentrate. Kenji tried to keep his eyes on hers, but each collision overhead made him look up. Up at a pair of feet two-stories tall to him. Up at feet that could flatten him in an eyeblink.

Up at feet he wanted to throw himself under despite that fact.

A loud snort reminded Kenji he was staring. Michiru pointed at him. “That one for me too?”

Fear had put it down, staring brought it back up. He hunched smaller than he already was, uselessly covering an erection she knew he had. The same one that had been embedded into a doughy divot in the ball of her foot a few minutes ago.

She rolled her eyes. “Here I am, threatening to flatten you and you start getting worked up. I need to up my intimidation game if a three-inch guy isn’t afraid of me.”

“I am afraid!” Kenji blurted. “Just, ah...”

“Right. That’s what you’re into.” Michiru chuckled to herself as if she still couldn’t believe it. Lolling her head back onto the bedside she stared up at the ceiling. “Can’t win here, can I?” After a pause she swung her head forward, unusual pink-and-blue eyes bright. “How about a deal?” The angular arch of her toes sealed together and stayed that way.

“What kind of deal?”

Michiru withdrew her left foot and crossed it over her right thigh. She popped her shoe off then lobbed its enormity into the distance like it was weightless. Next went the sock, flung over her shoulder to liberate her foot.

“In case you somehow didn’t notice, it was a bit of a hike from where I found you to here,” she said. The chestnut arch of Michiru’s sole crinkled under pressure from her thumb. Kenji went very still, very quiet—intent while she glided her finger along the silk-smooth surface. She glanced up, snickered when she noticed his undivided attention. “You weren’t kidding around about how much you like this stuff, huh?”

Kenji blinked as if waking from a dream. “Sorry, what did you say?”

A smug smile pulled at her lips. “Alright, Kenji. Like I said before, let’s make a deal.” She dragged her right foot away, tucking it underneath the opposing thigh. Without warning, her left foot careened forward so fast he only had time to throw his hands up to shield himself.

But there had been no need. Her sole came to an immediate halt inches before impact, the blunt bulk of a hulking heel close enough that his breaths teased a ticklish giggle out of Michiru.

Trapped in a sock, he hadn’t had an opportunity to admire the sole. At a meager three inches the heel alone looked sturdy as a brick building, wide enough that his outstretched arms wouldn’t encompass its sides. He trailed his gaze up her bowl of an arch, wrinkling from a casual flex. Then higher to the plump ball, decorated with black lint tufts the size of bowling balls.

The relative tonnage of her foot slid aside without effort, giving Kenji clear line of sight to a bemused Michiru. “You’ll give me a massage, I’ll forgive you. Sweet deal, huh?”

“You’ll let me touch your foot?” Kenji winced. “Sorry, sounds weird when I put it that way. But, I mean, I just explained to you that—”

“You going to look a gift horse in the mouth?” She flashed her teeth in a brief grin. “You should be thanking me for being so open-minded.”

A crazy thought occurred to Kenji: “You aren’t enjoying this, are you?”

“What?” Michiru glanced away with a scoff then gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t be ridiculous. I told you, I had a long walk and now I want a massage. It’s a lady thing, you wouldn’t understand.” Thud: the sound of her left foot collapsing onto its side, arch walling his view. “So get to massaging, squirt.”

Digging his little feet into the arch tickled a shudder through them. He held his hands high to grab the other side of Michiru’s foot, hoisting himself until he could peep over it like a fencepost. “Thank you,” he said shyly.

“Thanking me for the privilege of a footrub. People ought to take notes out of your playbook when dealing with me.” A lazy twitch of her foot broke Kenji’s grip. His feet padded against the curve of her arch, a frantic run to maintain traction—but he couldn’t keep it forever, inevitably flopping onto his back. “Now get going. You’re still in hot water.”

His first admiring touches were tentative. Testing the arch’s smooth curvature. “I said massage, not tickle,” Michiru managed through a bout of laughter. “Seriously, I’m ticklish as all hell. I might stomp you flat on accident.”

“Noted,” Kenji breathed out so quietly there was no chance Michiru heard. Whether this was a request for a massage or something more, he aimed to please.

“Come on. You’d lose a wrestling match with my pinky. Put some muscle into it!”

Kenji took a couple steps back then rammed full-speed into the arch. Soft skin dimpled under the press of his shoulder. He clenched his teeth with exertion, futilely walking himself into Michiru’s foot as if trying to topple a building.

A booming yawn answered his intense efforts.

“Is this... not... good enough?” he grunted.

“Maybe we ought to shift strategies here?” Michiru appeared overhead, leaned over to observe him at work. She reached down and collected a wad of lint off the ball of her foot then flicked it away. “You aren’t so weak that you can’t handle cleaning duty, right? Get the sock lint off my feet then do a scrubdown?”

“A scrubdown?” Kenji stopped his useless efforts to look up. “I don’t have a washcloth.”

She tilted her head. “Did I mention a washcloth?”

“No, ma’am.”

“That’s right.” The bed let out a sigh as Michiru slumped from sight. There came an electric whine on the end of the room opposite her: a television screen coming to life, voices thundering throughout the room. “So get to it, squirt.” Maybe it was because she was short compared with most people she met, but Michiru seemed to savor that word. It came with a playful shove from her arch, knocking Kenji flat on his ass.

She didn’t say anything after that, leaving him to his task. Expecting to be pampered and forgetting all about him while watching some news program. Where the television engrossed her, Kenji found the programming presented to him a thousand times more titillating. Always the same channel, no plot to speak of—yet the vaguest toe scrunch or arch crinkle had his heart hammering in his chest.

He grasped a wad of lint with both hands. That the task was so menial she could have done it by brushing her foot once or twice never crossed his mind. He exercised his muscles to slowly peel the lint off, leaving the perfect ball of Michiru’s foot just a little more perfect than before.

Finally, the moment of truth. Creeping his face closer and closer under the intimate cover of the television’s constant drone. His lips hovered her warm skin. He closed his eyes, withdrew his tongue...

…and licked.

He would be content to make this routine his entire existence. No rest. No food. No drink. His aching erection approved of a life serving under Michiru’s foot.

Could a man fall in love with just a body part?

Was Michiru’s foot really “just” a body part, now that he was only a fraction of its size?

No. It was a feminine idol, huge and strong and soft and deserving of his worship. She didn’t even acknowledge him. To this towering tanuki, Kenji was a tickle. A subtle wet sensation whenever he painted her dark skin with the pleasing sheen of his saliva.

He couldn’t take it much longer.

Presented on its side, Michiru’s plump big toe made for the perfect foothold on his climb up a set of side-lain toes. His newest act earned a, “Huh?” as he clambered digits like rungs on a ladder. Fastening his hands over the pinky toe’s side, he forced his perspective beyond her foot.

“Hey, dude.” Michiru tapped a finger to her forehead in a mock salute. “You ready to start on the other? Or... oh.” Maybe he would get stomped. Yelled at. Tossed outside.

Whatever the price: worth it.

The faintest veneer of sweat still slicked Michiru’s toes from their time in her shoe. An ideal lubricant for his cock to slip right between, buried in toe fat. He draped himself over the pinky toe’s side while bucking his hips, more beast than a beastman. This pest-sized sex pest humped away while Michiru watched. She didn’t encourage him, but she didn’t stop him either—and she had the power to do that without much effort at all.

His breaths turned ragged. He was close. So close that he shuddered and shivered. Preparing to puddle his cum in this perfect beastman’s perfect toe pit and—

A sound filled the room. Louder than the television set, a queasy gurgle from Michiru’s stomach. An unintentional jerk of her foot caused Kenji’s beet red erection to pop out from its hard-won niche. He fell backwards, landing on the floor.

His first instinct was to hop to his feet and dash back towards Michiru’s foot.

“Oh, crud,” Michiru whined, retracting her foot without regard for the human chasing after. It was useless as pursuing a speeding car on foot. She tucked her feet away, cross-legged. “I’m an idiot.” She rolled her head back onto the bed and patted her stomach. “The whole reason I went out was to get something to eat, then I ran into you.” She slumped her head forward, chin digging into her collar. “Don’t suppose you’re on the menu, eh?”

“In a heartbeat.” And that was about the time it took for Kenji’s offer to leap out his throat.

Michiru snorted. “I was kidding.” The lopsided smile said she was sure Kenji’s offer had been a joke. It gave way to surprise. “You weren’t.” Then a glare. “Are you crazy?”

Kenji didn’t have a deathwish. At least, not usually. On the brink of orgasm he could have masturbated himself to climax right there on the floor. But he didn’t. Because he wanted her, needed her. Even if it meant edging himself to the point of sexual torture, he couldn’t bring himself to cum without Michiru’s body.

“Th-the place I wanted to go is called The Open Maw for a reason,” he said while hugging his nude body as if he might explode from horniness. “And a lot of beastmen are predators, so they don’t mind putting live prey in their mouths.”

“You want to be my snack,” she said flatly.

Arousal forced Kenji onto hands and knees. “It’d be my privilege. Even if I’m just a few calories. Satisfying your hunger for a minute would be the most important thing I’ve ever done in my life.” He groveled his fever-hot forehead against the floorboards.

“Geeze,” Michiru huffed. “You’re embarrassing me. Get up, get up.” He obeyed. “Never had a guy fawn over me like this.” Another gurgle came from her gut and she grimaced at it.

“Please,” Kenji whimpered. He started towards her, clambering from one calf to another. She made no move to help him as he made it onto her lap. But again, she didn’t flick him off.

“I’m not digesting you.”

“Why not?”

“Uh, because that’s literally murder?”

“Not if I want it!”

“Wow, assisted suicide. Thanks for bringing me into that.” But Michiru’s words failed to deter him. She watched as he grabbed bunches of her shirt in a desperate attempt at scaling into her mouth. Her thin lips pouted into a smirk. “You’re hopeless, huh?”

That smirk was suddenly that much closer. She had snatched Kenji into her fist to hold him within kissing distance.

“All this arguing is getting me peckish, though.” Each word peppered a bit of sweet-smelling breath against his face. Teased a gander at the saliva-streaked depths of her mouth, hinted at the wet roiling snake of a tongue.

“You’ll do it?” He shivered in her grasp, squirming with arousal—and maybe some dawning fear, realizing what he had agreed to.

“Never met a tanuki before, huh? We’re shapeshifters.” That last word was broken up: shape-shift-ers, a thorough enunciation repeatedly punctuated by the gnash of teeth. Each click of her front teeth sounded like a door slamming right in Kenji’s face. Biting the air with enough head-eating jaw strength to make him flinch.

“You still with me, squirt?” she asked.

“Sh-shapeshifters,” he repeated with what few brain cells she hadn’t devoured.

“I usually use my abilities to change stuff like my arms, my tail… but my insides should work too. Probably.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

That widening smile showed more teeth. Pointy white formations hard as rock. “Having second thoughts?”

“No. Let’s do this.”

Her smile disappeared in a pout. “Thought you’d get cold feet.”

“I’d do it even if I got digested.”

Michiru lifted the human higher so she could give a once-over with her huge eyes. He saw himself reflected in them again—a wreck compared to when she found him. Face scarlet with arousal, hair a sweat-moussed mess, eyes bleary out of overwhelming sexual need.

“Guess there’s no talking you out of this, huh?” she said.

“Y-you’d need to sew your mouth shut.”

“Alright, you win. Suppose I don’t have much choice anyway.” Slowly, she lowered his vantage until it was filled by her lips. “Can’t in good conscience let you back onto the street. You’d throw yourself in any girl’s mouth. You have the survival instincts of a stinkbug.”

“I hope I look a bit better than one.” Kenji managed a thin smile.

A soft chuckle blew hot breath across his face. “I’d say so.” Michiru purred her voice down to husky octaves, almost like she was flirting with him. “I’m no pred, but you do look kinda tasty.” A wet blanket of sinew slapped Kenji in the face. One lick left him sputtering, hair and face drenched in tanuki drool.

Michiru fired off a fit of snorts and suppressed giggles. “Then again,” she said through her laughter, “maybe I’m just hungry enough that I’ll eat anything right about now.”

“M-Michiru.” Exposure to her slobber left Kenji wanting more. Except hadn’t this gone beyond want? “Please.” This was need puppeting his words. He was more than willing to throw his life away to slip past those supple lips.

Thoughtful silence hung while she swayed Kenji side to side in her first. That tantalizing inch to her lips might as well have been a mile in his ensnared state. “Let me satisfy your hunger,” he said. She must have felt his erection raging against her middle finger.

“Calm down, squirt. I’m just debating whether to eat you raw or with condiments.”

“W-well? What would you prefer?”

Smothering damp darkness provided a clear answer. His head popped clean between pursed lips like a lollipop, the bedroom’s dry, sterile air usurped by a humid swamp. Fingers unfurled from his body; Michiru held him solely by the strength of her lips.

One slurp gave him a good frame of reference for being sucked through an airlock. A force more powerful than gravity shunted his entire body through her lips. The sliver of light swallowed by her maw offered the briefest glimpse inside. It let him see the slick pink bedspread he had splatted atop; the low-hanging dome of her soft palate; surrounding rows of beastman teeth jutting from the gums like audience members at a coliseum.

And straight ahead, near enough he could dive right in: Michiru’s glistening throat.

Then he couldn’t see a thing. Teeth shuttered together with a booming finality that echoed throughout Michriu’s mouth. Kenji groped around in sudden blackness in search of traction. His arms fit around her tongue’s sides, but it was too wet for him to hold onto.

“Hmmm,” a hum rippling out the gullet. Like a whale’s cry. Too massive a sound to distinguish between male or female or to make any sense of the emotion it conveyed for that matter. Loud enough to pop eardrums and rattle shrunken bones.

He gasped as his back pounded the hard ceiling of Michiru’s palate. She pinned him there here, leaving him to writhe against her tongue. It wasn’t that much thicker than Kenji himself, but unlike Kenji it was all muscle. An appendage incredibly strong for its size, a fact most people were too large to admire.

It moved like an unrelenting animal, flaunting superior strength by body-slamming Kenji into the murk of the spit-puddled floor. Boring its tip into his midsection and carrying him past parted teeth, bare back smashed into the smooth wall of her inner cheek. Pressed down hard enough he was certain Michiru could look in a mirror and see an outline of his body poking through.

Brute strength lapped at him in waves of wet muscle. Drenching him down to the soul in spit. Licking out distressed squeaks overshadowed by eruptive giggles and sighs. Lashing his erection to torment him further.

Arms braced around the tongue now pinning him against the backs of her front teeth, he tried to whimper Michiru’s name. All that came out was a final, feeble gasp before he came into the abyss.

Maybe she tasted it, but Kenji didn’t think so. Chances were his jizz dissolved in drool the instant both fluids mixed. More likely, she had noticed that her prospective meal had been licked limp.

And that was the reason she let up. Her tongue settled at the floor and Kenji collapsed atop it with a grunt. Some clarity came over him now that his libido had been dealt with. It had gotten him into some trouble in the past, but never this much.

She won’t do it, he reassured himself. Cuddling with the tongue that had ravished him as if it were both a cushy bed and a lover.

Just a bluff. Yeah, that had to be it. No way a girl like Michiru would eat him. And though it had seemed like a good idea at the time, now he saw it for the blind lust it was.

“Michiru, I’m ready to come out!” he called to the wet cavern. The tongue beneath him only twitched, so he patted it for attention. “Michiru?” he tried again. “Mich...”

The tongue began to tilt back. She won’t do it, the same thought repeated, even as he groped for purchase and found only grasp-eluding slipperiness.

He began sliding forward, shouting, “Michiru!”

The esophagus welcomed Kenji, contracting around his limp body while lowering him headfirst into her bowels. There wasn’t a hint of light in here. He only had sounds and sensations to go by. A claustrophobic hug squeezed from all directions, like big strong hands massaging him deeper. Wet pops. Squelching smacks. A sensuous hum that vibrated through the living walls.

His head poked out into a more spacious area. Shoulders next. Bit by bit until he was dumped into a shallow pool. He slumped against the smooth interior—Michiru’s stomach. Acid splashed with each churn of his surroundings. He kept waiting for the sting of digestive juices, to be melted down into a part of this tanuki like he had begged. Except it didn’t hurt.

“Comfy in there?” Kenji looked in all directions for the source of that rumbling sound. But it came from everywhere at once. She was all around him, quite literally.

And as the panic of being melted into carbs subsided, he realized it was comfy. A constant heartbeat droned on from its home in Michiru’s internals. It had a soothing effect, rainfall pattering on a window.

“We’ll look into your mink problem after I’ve found some real food, got that weirdo?”

Not that he had any way to argue. The strength had been fucked from his legs; he could only simmer in a hot tub of digestive juices, trusting Michiru to get him out. And if she didn’t, he thought as unconsciousness began setting in…

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad either.