title: Colony aliases: [] tags: [FA] author: [QueenKyobi] id: [48428463] date: 星期三, 九月 14日 2022, 8:20:55 晚上 modified: 星期三, 九月 14日 2022, 8:23:16 晚上

[TOC]

Colony

Author: QueenKyobi Source: Colony

The wild Vulpix known as Kibbles strolled into his favorite place to grab some snacks and attention.

That place was a very lively town with a population of over two hundred people … ironically known as Sleeping Trees. And Sleeping Trees was where this particular Vulpix had gotten the name ‘Kibbles’ from in the first place. Kibbles was Kibbles because he loved kibbles, of course, the name was as simple as that. The villagers were always happy to see him, with his cute, fat butt and big, fluffy tails. They doted on him, poured affection upon him, and gave him shelter during the harsher times of the year. And, of course … they fed Kibbles plenty of kibble.

But as Kibbles walked through the eerily quiet town of Sleeping Trees, he soon learned that there was no kibble to be found. Not even a whiff of it upon the air. Naturally, this brought the Vulpix great discomfort. Where was his kibble? But beyond that … there wasn’t a scent of anything alive amongst the buildings. Just the scent of fires that had long gone out. Tracks in the mud that were aged when they should be fresh. He couldn’t even hear the sound of music from the village tavern. There wasn’t so much as a single light on. Nothing.

That didn’t stop Kibbles from loosing a few howls into the air, hoping that someone would hear him and respond. That didn’t stop Kibbles from wildly scratching at front doors, panting and whining. That didn’t stop the poor Pokemon’s poor tummy from growling as he thought about all the delicious treats that were lurking behind those locked doors. It didn’t stop his ears from pinning and his tails from drooping from a complete and utter lack of attention. The poor, fluffy little vulpine needed his pets! His betrayed, foxish whimpers said as much. Where was his love? Where was his attention? And, most importantly, where was his kibble?

But no matter how much the creature whined, panted, and begged, none came from their homes. The village of Sleeping Trees was devoid of life. Everyone had disappeared, and poor Kibbles was alone.

To say that Sleeping Trees was devoid of life, however, was utterly inaccurate. Perhaps it’s more appropriate to say that Sleeping Trees was devoid of any life that was visible to the naked eye. Every man and woman in the village was accounted for. The issue was that they’d shrank to a truly tiny size.

Not many things are imperceptible to the keen eyes of a Vulpix. While Kibbles most certainly didn’t have the sharpest eyes in the shed, he’d be able to see a Joltik - a Pokemon that was four inches long on average - at a decent distance. But the people of Sleeping Trees had shrank much, much smaller than that, to the point where they could no longer be measured in heights as lofty as inches. To be entirely accurate, the people had shrunk to the size of roughly three millimeters, or, a mere eighth of an inch. The size of a domestic flea.

So it was little wonder that Kibbles didn’t see them as they rushed toward him in droves. Locked out of their homes in the cold, they had no choice but to rush toward the fire-type for the warmth that he possessed. Like cave men rushing toward a fire in the dead of Winter, it was done on pure instinct. They either scaled the wild beast, or they would die in the cold.

A few went toward Kibble’s front, but they were foolish. By attempting to scale his forepaws, they merely ended up being trampled beneath them. The pops that they made as their little bodies exploded between the Pokemon’s nice, soft paw pads were not heard or felt by the roaming Vulpix. They were that infinitesimal. Not a single person manage to make it up toward his fluffy collar. And if they had, they would’ve likely been inhaled before too long, anyway.

The majority of the city, even in their panicked, deluded state, knew that going for the beast’s fluffy, curvaceous behind was the better option. To keep away from that mouth of his. In droves, they ran toward his back, throwing themselves onto the back of his hind legs. Scores of people, all buried beneath thick Vulpix fur. Each strand was like a thick, long rope to them. Practically a platform that they could stand on all by itself. Though that didn’t mean that the people of Sleeping Trees climbed his paws effortlessly. The opposite, in fact. It was a difficult and tricky task. His longer, sturdier back legs made for an easier surface to climb than his twitchy forepaws, but that didn’t mean that the Kibble’s movement didn’t unseat them. As they attempted to make their ascent, many fell. Some did not get a second chance to climb the beast. And, to go get as high as they did - the beast’s ass - took them hours upon hours of exhausting, adrenaline-powered climbing.

But, the further they climbed, the further they dug themselves in, the less the beast’s movement effected them.  Those who climbed the hardest were rewarded with safety, with warmth. Amongst his fur, they quickly wove tangles in it, all of them moving as a unit, creating large hammocks that they could safely sit upon as the beast made it’s strut through their former village. There, upon the fluff that surrounded the creature’s hefty sack and huge, winking pucker, the people of Sleeping Trees had begun to rebuild. Though the panic that came with shrinking very much remained with them, the people of Sleeping Trees were finding safety, warmth, and comfort here. This area, after all … despite the fact that it was strange, and more than a little unhygienic, it had plenty of room and sustenance for all of them. They were nothing more than fleas upon the butt of a wild Vulpix named Kibbles.

The only issue, of course, was exactly that. They were parasites upon the ass of a wild beast. And, like all parasites, it wouldn’t be long before they were scratched away.

But it seemed like they would have a decent run before that happened. Several weeks had passed, and the people of Sleeping Trees remained exactly where they were. For the most part, at least. They had spread. Some inhabited his cheeks, while others had gone further down, to inhabit the stretchy, spongy flesh of his sack. Even braver people had ventured directly into the dark heat of the Vulpix’s sheath, though most considered them fools. One person who didn’t was Amelie. Though, Amelie was pissed off about everything.

It was a little ironic, really, how the village pet had become the new village. That was the biggest joke around the beast’s ass, as a matter of fact. So much so that Amelie had heard it every fucking day for the past few weeks, and, Arceus … was it starting to get on her nerves. As a matter of fact, this entire situation was getting on her nerves. She absolutely detested living here - for obvious reasons, it was a Vulpix’s ass, for fuck sake - which was why the motivation and morale of the rest of the village confused her so badly. They were all just getting on with it. Wearing smiles, every day, despite the fact that they were stuffing shed hair into their mouths for dinner every night. Despite the fact that four people had gone missing in the past two days alone. Despite the fact that people had literally died getting sucked into it’s huge, cave-like asshole. Despite the fact that they were all living on the ass of an animal!

Amelie punched a wall of fur to her right … or to her left … she wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. There was no reaction - as usual. She could punch at it all day, if she wanted. She could bite at it. She could rip every strand of fur out of the single square millimeter that she inhabited and the big fucker still wouldn’t notice her.

But she punched at it again, regardless, his springy fuzz as unyielding to her minuscule knuckles as ever.

“Maybe I could move down to his sheath, like Ox and Billingham did,” she said to herself, glancing down a gap in the mange that she was laid upon, down toward testicles that were far, far too distant for her to see … despite the fact that she was positioned upon Kibble’s taint. Such was the state of her scale. “Though it’d probably take me most of this fucking week to get down there.”

But at least she wouldn’t have to see this view anymore. The view of Kibble’s posterior. The multitude of thick, furry tails above her, bouncing, swaying, always hanging overhead … her new sky. The dumb beast always seemed to be walking somewhere, whether it was through a more rural area or somewhere that was actually populated. Both sights had become incredibly boring - and frustrating - to Amelie by now. The sight of trees blown up to a million times their ordinary scale, it had somehow become mundane, so mundane that it was irritating. And seeing regular sized people when Kibbles took to the street, well … seeing what you used to be in macro while you existed like a fucking flea … Amelie, rightfully, didn’t need to justify why she hated that.

Which was why it was doubly frustrating when the rest of Sleeping Trees seemed to revel in the sight, rather than detest it as she did. Like they were idiots at the fair, she could hear them, above and below her, pointing, gawking, yelling. ‘Look, a real person!’ they would cry jubilantly, forgetting that they were real themselves only a few week ago. Yes. Submerging herself in complete and utter blackness, surrounded by masculinity so thick and intense that it could consume you … it sounded like Hell, compared to her old life … but bliss, compared to this.

But, for now, Today’s view was not people. It was the woods - again - and it was putting Amelie to sleep. More trees, more mud, maybe a glimpse at another stupid, giant Pokemon, if she was lucky.

Unfortunately - or, perhaps, fortunately, given her current state of mind - Amelie and the rest of Sleeping Tree’s luck was about to run out.

Kibbles was going on one of his usual, aimless strolls. Being a beloved, wild Pokemon, it was an easy life. Free food, walkies all day, no responsibilities. Yet another carefree day in the woods. Perhaps he’d find some berries, or a friend to wrestle and tussle with! He wasn’t sure yet.

Though Kibbles was getting a little distracted by something. Just a little bit. There was an itch across his backside. A deep and persistent  It had been there for a couple of weeks or so. Barely perceptible, really. Hardly a nuisance. Some of the people he’d been fed by had noted that his rear looked a little curly, mangy, and tangled. The only signs of the small colony that laid beneath his fur, and the reason for that subtle, irritating itch. Deep within those tangles of fur, after all, were a multitude of tiny beings. Moving, talking, eating, existing.

Yes, it was annoying. The more he thought about it, it really was annoying, and it really was starting to impact his easy days. It was more than just a little distracting, especially since his little animal mind was starting to fixate upon the strange sensation. He felt the odd tingle across his sack, as well as the occasional odd twitch from within his sheath, also, but …

It was the itch upon his ass that needed to be scratched, first and foremost. Considering that there were plenty of nice, rough trees around, there were plenty of nice, coarse surfaces with which to do that on. It was a very deep itch, after all.

With a twitch of his nose and a little hop, Kibbles took toward a nice, sturdy looking tree. Yes, he’d stood this itch for long enough. It was time to take care of it, once and for all.

Amelie scowled and rolled her eyes as the people around her began to yell. Again? Really? What had they seen this time, a butterfly?

Groaning, she rolled over onto her back, pulling her face out of a pile of fluff. All she had been trying to do was take a nap. Sleep through the boredom. But, no. Everybody had to yelling and … moving. Ugh. The people directly above and beneath her were moving around like madmen for whatever reason, causing strands of fur around her to bob and sway in a way that made her feel nauseous. And the way that they were yelling … no … the way that they were screaming …

Why were they screaming like that? Those screams, they were terrified. Fear suddenly gripped Amelie, like a cold snake wrapping around her stomach.

Quickly, she sat up. The reason for the terror became apparent with a single glance toward the outside world. Kibble’s rear was quickly approaching a tree. And it was clear what his intentions were. He was going to rub his ass up against that tree until he had erased the source of his itch. Until he had erased them.

“Let’s go for his asshole! We’ll be safe there!” came a yell from above.

“We should’ve moved down to his balls with everyone else!” came a yell from the side.

“We’re just fleas!” came a yell from below.

“Shut up!” came a yell from Amelie. Of course, nobody actually stopped yelling. It was like punching his ass. Pointless. So she needed to something, but … what could she do? The tree, it was so close now that the bark upon the tree looked like the surface of an alien planet. Deep brown ridges and furrows, a barren, harsh, scorched looking surface that she was about to come in very, very close contact with. Would she even leave a smear across the surface of it? Would anyone? Would they leave any trace before they were scratched away, or …

Amelie had bigger problems to worry about - quite literally. No longer were existential thoughts filling her mind. It was just like on the night where the village had shrank and they’d all tore toward Kibbles in a fit of panic. Her animal brain took over, and for good reason. Kibbles’ ass had pressed against the tree, and he was moments away from indulging in the first, relieving scrape against it’s deliciously coarse surface.

What did instinct guide you to do when a great, harsh wall was coming to crush you? It guided you to run. Forward. Amelie and the majority of her shrunken peers charged into the Vulpix’s fur like it was a wild brush. They pushed and walked and ran, weaving through great strands of fur in order to bury themselves as deeply within it as they possibly could. So they could avoid the wall that was coming for them.

Amelie was fast. Fast enough that her little legs could outpace the tree that was coming for her. But some of her peers, they were not so lucky. As the intense, ear-filling noise of bark parting fur filled Amelie’s ears, so did the sound of screams. Screams that were different than before. These were not screams of fear, no. They were screams of death. She recognized them from the first night, the night where’d they’d climbed Kibbles. It was the sound of people falling as they were dislodged from their homes. It was the sound of people being ground and crushed to bits between plump ass and hard tree. It was the sound of raw, unfiltered chaos, of death, of destruction, of macro wiping out micro.

That awful noise was getting closer and closer. Like a quickly approaching storm. Her feet, they were moving quickly enough to get away from it now, but she knew that she couldn’t evade the tree forever. She knew that this was effortless for the Vulpix. As easy as scratching a persistent itch. But to Amelie, and to the many other shrunken people upon Kibbles’ backside, it was a feat of intense, physical prowess. The contrast between the acts, physically easy and physically impossible … it was something that ran through Amelie’s mind. Indeed, that contrast burnt brightly in every villager’s brain. They knew that they might as well give up now.

But they still ran. Though their legs were heavy from their negative thoughts and the awful noises filling their ears, they still ran, hopelessly, as people perished around them. As screams filled their ears. As people were ripped from their new home, screaming as they were scraped away into red smears upon a tree, invisible to the naked eye.

And now, that awful noise was right on top of Amelie. She could feel the fluffy orange fur behind her parting. She could practically feel the tree biting and nipping at her heels. It was right there …

… and then it wasn’t. Amelie fell forward as Kibbles’ ass pulled itself away from the tree. With a pant, she looked at the fuzzy, orange landscape that she had landed upon. She couldn’t believe it. She had survived.

In relief, her lips puckered, and pressed a kiss against the Vulpix’s ass … or upper thigh … or wherever she was, she didn’t know! She didn’t care! She was alive. Alive! And it was glorious. Living as a flea was better than dying after all. To herself, she laughed, over and over, pressing kiss after kiss against the wall of fuzz in front of her. Yes, from this moment on, she would never, ever take living upon Kibbles’ rear for granted again.

Though that was only because she didn’t have the opportunity to. Kibble’s wasn’t done scratching yet. The little Vulpix had simply made the decision to switch to a different, more precise tool. His paw.

Stood on all fours, the Vulpix trotted away from the tree, satisfied, but not quite satisfied enough. The majority of the itch was gone, but he could feel a residual … sensation upon the upper part of his hindquarters, now. A sensation, because it wasn’t quite right to call it an itch. If he wasn’t in the mind to completely rid himself of any distracting feelings, he’d have probably ignored it.

But, since he was very much in that state of mind, he raised his leg, stubby claws extending. His big, plume-like tails flagged, fully presenting his fat ass and dangling sack. Then he began to dig in, scratching at his cheeks like there was no tomorrow.

And, for Amelie and the rest of the parasites who thought they had received a lucky break, there wouldn’t be a tomorrow.

Claws dug into his ass. His paw swept downward, first, claws and pawpad pushing into his lower cheek. Whatever remained of the flea’s homes was taken care of with a couple of sweeps, the mange and tangles destroyed as effortlessly as the tree that had destroyed the majority of life upon his rear. Any signs of their ‘civilization’ were quickly removed, wiped out by nothing more than a few unknowing strokes from a frustrated paw.

Those signs of civilization included the people, of course. Though they all tried to run, there would be no escape this time. The luckiest ones met quick ends. They were swept underneath his claws and mangled to death between enormous pawpads and plump, jiggling rear. And that jiggling ass took care of the rest. With his paw slapping and kicking at his rear over and over, the parasites of Sleeping Trees were dislodged, thrown from the fur and flesh that they were clinging to.

They were the unlucky ones, of course. Though the majority of them hit the forest floor harmlessly, they were knocked down to a place that was, obviously, very dangerous for anything of their size. The ground was mucky, uneven, rocky, covered in leaves, and, frankly, impossible to traverse. The smooth roads of their village had been one thing, but the wild forest was another. They did not stand a chance of making it back to Kibbles. And they did not stand a chance of surviving here, either. It would only be a matter of time before something either stepped on them or gobbled them down. The rest of their lives would be a torturous waiting game now. Worse than prey, as they had no means to defend themselves, and they also had no nutritional value. They were parasites, lost without their host, and they would either die in the cold, in a hot, sticky belly or, given their size, more than likely under foot, paw, or body.

From her lofty vantage point upon the taut skin of the Vulpix’s sack, Joane couldn’t help but chuckle. It was grim, definitely, to laugh as the people that you used to live with were subjected to a truly horrible fate, but … well, Joane, she didn’t have much left to laugh at. The sound of them screaming as they fell. Occasionally, she even caught a glimpse of them falling. Of course, she couldn’t track them all the way to floor. Not only were they too small to see, but the Vulpix’s testicle quite literally filled the majority of her horizon. Joane was a giggling little speck upon a globe.

Giggling, though, it did feel bad. But this wouldn’t have happened if they have listened to her. She’d told the lot of them that they should’ve moved down here, to his balls, where it was safer. All they had to do was deal with a bit of a bad smell! And did they listen to her? No! They’d insisted that was filthy, disgusting. Right. Like living on it’s ass was any better. Idiots …

So, in a way, this was also a comeuppance. Her amusement also came from that, if she was being honest to herself. And, if she was being really, really honest with herself, then she was also laughing because, really, she was afraid. Just above her - quite literally, a few inches - everything that everyone had built was coming apart. Joane felt as if someone was breathing down her neck. As if she would be next. After all, though Kibbles’ moon-like nuts were in a much, much better state than his ass, they were still bouncing back and forth, swaying with his kicking, because of course, they were between his legs. She could still feel those macro testes bouncing up and down, jiggling and writhing in their sweaty sack, and it wasn’t subtle, no …

But Joane, she was safe, for now. So, she continued to laugh. For what she told herself were the right reasons, rather than the scary ones. And, around her, the few micros that had taken refuge upon the Vulpix’s sack and balls did the same, relying on their own amusement to comfort themselves. But they all knew it was a matter of time. Days, hours … minutes. They didn’t know.

But the Vulpix did. It was seconds, since Kibbles had decided that he was going to eradicate every sensation … including that strange tingling across his balls. There were only twenty tiny bodies spread out across his sack total. If it weren’t for the itch on his ass, he might have thought that nothing was amiss. But the sensations, they were oddly similar, and since they were so close …

Kibbles wasn’t going to use his paw on his balls, though. His balls, they were sensitive! His paws were too clumsy of a tool for such a valuable organ. No, in this case, he’d use his tongue. Licking at his balls, after all, that felt just lovely, and it was sure to clear up whatever that odd, irritating tingle was there, wasn’t it? Why wouldn’t he use his tongue? As a matter of fact, it was already lolling out of his mouth in excitement. All he needed to do now was park his ass on the ground, and put his muzzle between his legs. He could do that! Easy! He was very flexible.

So, Kibbles did just that. Kibbles plopped his butt down, and Kibbles shoved his face between his legs. Then, just as he’d done hundreds of times before in his life, he began to groom his balls with his tongue. Only this time, he would be taking in one or two extra calories. If only he’d have known … the Vulpix, after all, he really did like snacks.

Joane and the dozen or so other villagers that had made their homes upon Kibbles’ sack were dealt with in only a few, easy strokes of the tongue.

Truly, they stood no chance at all. The Vulpix’s tongue was a huge, broad, slathering wet muscle that was capable of smothering his entire sack. The villagers were specks that saw the Vulpix’s testicles as organs that were practically large enough to have their own fucking gravitational field. It was completely and utterly hopeless. And they were no longer laughing.

No, as the Vulpix’s tongue collected them upon it’s wet, sticky surface, they were all screaming, sobbing, crying, and begging for mercy … if they weren’t drowning in a puddle of saliva, at least. Those cries of anguish were not heard. Not even a little bit. The Vulpix was far too absorbed in just how good it felt to lap at his poor, aching balls, and how much better they felt now that that irritating tingle was no longer upon them.

And then, those yells, those screams, they were quickly smothered entirely, for Kibbles tongue slurped back into his mouth hungrily. Joane and the few people who were with her were swallowed in an instant, cast down a throat so vast and wide that they stood absolutely no chance of even tickling the sides. Down a hot, wet, abyss they went, falling rapidly all the way into the belly of the beast that they had dared to inhabit. There, of course, they found literal oceans worth of digestive fluids. The one good thing about their situation was that they were broken down quickly. In an instant, really. They were very small, and stomach acid, it was very, very powerful.

Kibbles’ had no idea that he had just devoured them. He had absolutely no idea at all that he had just eaten what had been some of his favorite people in the entire world. He had no idea that the very same people who had fed him kibble were now literally feeding him themselves. He had no idea, because, as much as they squirmed and splashed within his expansive belly, he could not feel a thing.

Not a thing. Blissfully unaware of what and whom he’d just swallowed, Kibbles went on bathing his sack. He was no longer doing it to eliminate an itch … but just because it felt nice. It felt so nice, as a matter of fact, that his pink cock was beginning to emerge from his sheath. There, the last of the tingles, the last of the parasites of Sleeping Trees, were beginning to wake, completely unaware of the fates of the rest of their fellow townsfolk.

That was because they slept most of the day. And most of the night. In the world of Kibbles’ sheath, after all, it was perfect dark, near entirely. The Pokemon seldom found himself aroused for whatever reason, meaning that the truly tiny community that had decided to venture all the way in here were perpetually wrapped in a dark blanket of hot masculinity. They only awoke to eat - pre, sweat and other secretions from the Vulpix’s tapered glans and sheath - and then, surrounded by overwhelming warmth and the head-spinningly strong scent of dick, they quickly fell back asleep, sated, full, and very much mindless. It was an easy life, but not a very worthwhile one. Out of the three groups that existed upon the Vulpix’s behind, they were, by far, the most parasitic.

But they were also the last alive, and, perhaps fittingly, the last to be aware of the Vulpix’s attack. After all, as snug little specks slumbering against his cock, they really had no idea at all what was going on the outside world. They were sleeping soundly as the others were in endless peril outside.

One sound sleeper was a rotund man who was rather fittingly named Ox. Or, well … formerly, he used to fit that name. Back when he was over six feet and six inches tall. Now, of course, he was an invisible speck, the same as everyone else. And, honestly … he’d been underneath Kibbles’ sheath for so damn long that he’d forgotten his name at this point. Hell, he’d forgotten that he was even human. All of the musk, all of the heat, it had broken his tiny little mind.

So, when light flooded his sleepy eyes, little Ox began to panic. As the flesh that he had existed on began to reveal itself in all of it’s pink, veiny glory, he was genuinely confused, because he had genuinely forgotten everything about his predicament. It was the same for the other eight or so people that had taken refuge within his sheath. They were all confused, and blinded by the light that had suddenly been thrust into their eyes. All they saw was a skyscraper of pink that they had apparently been clinging to for all this time, and the distant and barely familiar muzzle of Kibbles, seemingly miles and miles away from them. It was very, very confusing indeed. How had they gotten here?

As they puzzled over that truly pointless question, that distant muzzle became not-so-distant, and then, it was right on top of them, to the point where they could feel his hot breath rolling over their forms. Strangely, though, the heat didn’t panic them. It was no hotter than the inside of his sheath, after all. If anything, the poor, tiny fools were comforted by the blast of stinky fox breath. It reminded them of the climate that was in his sheath. Hot, sticky, swampy. Oppressive, biological heat.

Ox and his peers closed their eyes and released a happy sigh of contentment. None of them glanced upward. If they were, they would’ve seen the face of a Vulpix that was inches away from participating in an act of auto fellatio. They would’ve seen a tongue hovering over them, a maw that was twitching in excitement. They would’ve seen a beast that couldn’t wait to suck his own cock.

And if they saw that, they might have been afraid. But they weren’t. As the Vulpix’s hot lips slid over their tiny, naked bodies, they simply assumed that they were being taken back within his sheath, where they belonged. They did not consider for a moment that they were being taken toward his guts. They did not open their eyes. Once more surrounded by a wet, hot heat, they kept them closed. Some of them, Ox included, fell back into a lazy slumber, incorrectly presuming that everything was okay.

Because everything was not okay. Those lips slid over them all, carefully, not disrupting their position upon his throbbing spire of a prick in the least. It was only when the Vulpix had his entire cock in his mouth, knot included, that they were dislodged from their position. Because when the Vulpix had practically swallowed every inch of his aching cock, he began to suck. And then, the peaceful little parasites upon his shaft didn’t stand a chance at all. They were sucked down his gaping whirlpool of a throat with a simple, easy tense of the cheeks. Drawn into the abyss, to their death, by a movement that was as casual and as easy as blinking one’s eyes.

And it was only then that they realized their predicament. It was only then that Ox and his peers put together everything together. In their last seconds, as they fell toward death by digestion, they remembered everything. They had made the decision to crawl into Kibbles’ sheath for safety, and, somehow … they had been sucked right off of it. And now, of course, they were on their way to his stomach. Where they would be turned into soup and erased.

Of course, this sudden burst of clarity didn’t help their anxiety any. If anything, it only made them realize that they had been fools, mere seconds before they were melted into the same slop as the idiots who had taken residence upon Kibbles’ balls. A hot soup of pure parasitic failure.

They were buried underneath a torrent of cum. Kibbles, being the disgusting wild animal that he was, had decided to swallow his own cum. A single rope of it provided more calories and sustenance than any of the villagers had. Compared to the sea of it that he dumped into his stomach, they would’ve truly looked ridiculous. But they never got the chance to suffer that final humiliation. They were all dead, and Kibbles no longer itched.

After emptying his balls down his throat, Kibbles needed a few moments to recover.

Literally, a few moments. He was back on his feet within seconds, his bundle of tails wagging behind him happily. Limp, spent cock dangling between his legs, urethra gaped, balls empty. The evidence of his naughty act still showing in white globs in the corner of his mouth - at least, until they were lapped away by his tongue mere moments later, replaced by a satisfied smile.

Kibbles’ wiggled his butt. No longer did he feel an odd presence there. His sack felt blissfully empty, and his cock, even better. Unfortunately, as much as he enjoyed swallowing his cum, it was not an appropriate substitution for a meal … and neither were the people of Sleeping Trees. The Vulpix was in desperate need of some calories. He needed to go somewhere, to his favorite village, which was …

… not Sleeping Trees. Nobody was at Sleeping Trees anymore. They had all gone, and, honestly, Kibbles had long forgotten about it. No, there was a nice old lady who had a warm fireplace and roast Miltank in a little place called Bouldsville, not too far from here. Yes, yes, that sounded very, very good to him right now.

With a skip and a trot, Kibbles went on his way, no longer feeling any discomfort, subtle or otherwise.