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Mischief in Miniature

Crisp led a fairly active life. When he wasn't working, the wolf loved to spend time outdoors; walking, jogging, basically anything that allowed him to slip on his favourite sneakers and spend a good number of hours with only nature surrounding him. Every so often though, there would come a day when he wouldn't wish to venture outdoors. Perhaps after a particularly long week at work where even a relaxing stroll through the woods might seem like too much additional effort. Or, like today, when the weather outside simply didn't allow for outdoor pursuits beyond puddle-jumping.

With thunder rumbling through the dark, heavy skies and the occasional flash of forked lightning lighting up the horizon, Crisp lay spread-eagled upon his couch. His head lay calmly upon one arm-rest, one leg stretched out over the far end whilst his other lower limb found itself hooked over the back of the couch. His arms rose up above him, clutching at a worn paperback; one of the wolf's favourites. There were certain books which were great literature, and others that while not so memorable to a wider audience, were perfect rainy day books. Ones which could be read, at least in parts, over and over again. This was certainly one of the latter category. A horror novella about a possessed pair of dancing shoes, which carried their wearer through all manner of bizarre and troubling situations.

Crisp's eyes were fixated almost hungrily upon the pages of the book, not reading it in order; he knew the entire plot inside out, but rather skipping back and forth between particular scenes. He found himself giggling as he read over particular passages, ones which he could recite from memory with or without the book close to hand, but which still gave him a little tingle of delight to see spread out before him in text. His toes curled within his red and white trainers as he read, cheeks flushing brightly beneath his grey fur. The descriptions within the book were so vivid. The motions of the dancing victim, the confusion as his mind failed to control what his body was doing. The embarrassment as he was dragged out of his apartment wearing nothing but the dancing shoes.

To the protagonist of the book, and probably to most people reading it, it really was a rather creepy horror story. But to Crisp... the slight bulging in his briefs showed an entirely different understanding of the book's content.

The storm had been rumbling on for a few hours by the time Crisp set his book down on the coffee table. By then his whole face was burning a bright shade of red, his feet were jiggling in a constant state of excitement, and the slight swelling in his scarlet red underwear had grown into a fully fledged, though still fabric-bound erection. The wolf laid his hands to rest upon his stomach, lifting the fabric of his t-shirt slightly to scratch and gently rub at his smooth, lean belly. He gazed down the length of his body, admiring both his swollen underwear and wiggling, trainer-clad feet, but not acting upon the excitement and arousal visible within them both. Sure, he'd do so eventually. One of the joys of a relaxing day spent indoors was the freedom to fool around and pleasure himself as he pleased. But by the same token, he did have a whole day to play with, and as such had the opportunity to draw out and intensify his fun much more so than was usual.

At least, that had been Crisp's hope.

A sharp, bashful yelp escaped the wolf as he heard the chiming of his doorbell echoing through the hallway and into the living room. He scrambled into an upright position, then rose hurriedly to his feet, staring in horror down at his still bulging briefs. The doorbell rang again, and with a mortified whimper Crisp began to move towards its source. He couldn't not answer the door. What if it was someone important? What if a friend had decided to pay him an unexpected visit and was standing there right now, getting soaked in the rain?

Creeping nervously into the hallway, Crisp approached the door and took shelter behind it. He twisted the handle and the inner lock, and with only his head poking around the edge of the door, took a few shuffling steps backwards as he pulled it open a crack.

"H-hello?"

Staring out into the dim greyness, the rain and the flashes of lightning, Crisp frowned. There appeared to be no-one there. Was it possible that somehow the lightning had set off the doorbell? He knew that storms could play havoc with electrical systems; that was one reason the wolf had been reading rather than watching TV or playing a video game. But for a lightning strike to have so specific an impact, without Crisp hearing or seeing any other side-effects, seemed unlikely.

After a few more seconds spent staring out into the storm, Crisp closed the door again. With a frustrated sigh he re-fastened the lock, turned around, and leaned back against the firm wood. He glanced down at his crotch once more, the swollen excitement of his erection rapidly dwindling.

"Well... there goes that."

There were fewer things more aggravating on a day like this than having a good hard-on ruined. Particularly when, as seemed the be the case here, it was all for absolutely no reason. Sure, Crisp could go back into the living room, lie down once more and read his book again. Yeah he'd get his erection back in record time, but... it wouldn't be the same hard-on. It wouldn't have the same intense pressure behind it built up over hours of constant, ceaseless arousal. At least, not until he'd spent another good portion of the day getting it that way.

Still huffing and with his brow furrowed, Crisp began to walk back to the living room.

"W-wha?!"

With a yelp of shock, the wolf tumbled forward; collapsing helplessly onto his hands and knees without a moment's warning, and hurriedly glancing down at his feet to see why he had tripped. His eyes widened, and a nervous whimper escaped Crisp's muzzle as he stared at his sneakers. The white laces no longer tied up in perfect bows, but knotted and bound tightly together. The wolf looked around with dazed concern, searching for someone who could possibly have done that to him. He considered that perhaps someone had been ducking down at the base of the door, and that although he'd thought his gaze had extended that far down, maybe he'd somehow missed them. But no, that made little sense. His feet hadn't even been visible through the door; hidden behind it like the rest of his lower body.

Rolling over to sit upon his rump, the wolf reached down and began to unfasten his laces. The knots tied between the two shoes were tight and done many times over, and it took Crisp several minutes to unfasten them all. With careful precision he re-knotted and tied his laces correctly, even going so far as to knot the bow in order to ensure they remained secure. At least that way, if anyone else were to try and mess with him, he'd feel it before they had the chance to fool him again.

Crisp pulled himself back up to his feet. He glanced down at his shoes one last time, wiggling his toes within them and shaking each foot just to confirm to himself that everything was okay again. His gaze then returned to the living room door, and he set off towards his original destination.

"Aaahh!"

With another, even more desperately confused wail, the wolf tumbled over again. Scrambling hurriedly back into a sitting position and glaring accusingly at the seemingly empty hallway around him before he even bothered to look down. His face was flushed with embarrassment as he did return his attention to his feet, and sure enough the laces of his shoes were tied together just as they had been before.

"Okay... w-who's there? Who's messing with me?"

Crisp clenched his paws into tight fists, rising back up to his feet without even bothering to untie his laces. His gaze darted urgently from side to side, certain that at any moment he would have to defend himself from some sort of criminal intruder. A thief or housebreaking mugger who... who threw his victims off-guard by... binding their shoelaces together?

The wolf frowned. Now he thought about it, that didn't make even the slightest little bit of sense. But if that wasn't the case, then what the hell was going on?

A soft, gleeful burst of giggling erupted from what sounded like all around Crisp. The wolf span on the spot, very nearly tripping again, his arms flailing wildly and just managing to right himself. He looked around, but though the laughter continued he still couldn't see anyone. It grew louder, as though more voices were adding to the collective mirth, and the wolf's face began to glow ever brighter as he became convinced that they were laughing at him. At his clumsiness and foolishness for not being able to figure out what was going on; not being able to identify the source of his woes.

"C-c'mon... this isn't cool."

Suddenly very aware of how he was dressed, even though this was within the privacy of his own home, Crisp crossed his arms over the front of his briefs. He shuffled around and around, trying to find some position which would hide him from view and give the squealing sources of laughter all around him a reason to settle and cease their teasing mirth. All his protesting seemed to achieve however was to egg his unknown antagonists on. Their giggling increasing in volume, their mocking howls and squeals of glee ever more intensely potent as they rang in Crisp's ears.

All at once, just as Crisp felt he was going to curl up into a ball and hide from the seemingly supernatural, formless laughter, the sources of the wolf's torment revealed themselves. Appearing from all around the hallway; poking out from within the grille of the radiator, underneath one of the stairwell lampshades, from between the railings of the stairs themselves. Miniaturised faces, grinning and giggling. Tiny furred and scaled forms ranging from just a couple of inches to eight or nine in height. Foxes. Mice. Lizards. Dragons. Even a kangaroo.

Crisp's eyes widened in horror.

Micros!

The miniature menaces rushed towards him, squealing with laughter as he shrank back against the hallway wall like a nineteen twenties housewife being faced with a rat in her kitchen.

"O-oh... no... please, please d-don't..."

Crisp whimpered desperately as he felt the micros racing around his feet. Beginning to grasp at the fabric of his sneakers, to climb up them and onto his legs. He felt them scrambling up through his soft grey and white fur, over his knees, up the length of his thighs and finally clutching at the fabric of his underwear. He stared down in horror, watching as five or six of the tiny furs swung and tugged on his briefs. Slowly but surely dragging them down the sides of his hips until finally, with a squeal of laughter from each of the micros, the underwear tumbled freely down the length of Crisp's legs and pooled around his ankles.

"Oooh... look!"

At last, one of the micros spoke. A four inch tall fox, bouncing on the tips of his tiny toes as he pointed up at Crisp's now exposed crotch. The wolf yelped in horror, flinging his hands across his front once more but still not completely able to cover his exposed cock and balls.

"Look, look, look! He likes it!"

Crisp whined in frantic anguish. He shook his head wildly from side to side.

"S-shut up. No I don't. G-get out of here, p-pests! Go c-cause trouble for someone else."

No matter how firmly the wolf spoke, he knew there was nothing he could do to convince the micros to leave. They were, after all, a problem throughout the world. Swarming into people's homes whenever their own shelters were disturbed by the weather or land being developed by big civilisation. Causing mischief and mayhem. Never doing true harm to anyone, but certainly pushing the lives of whoever they encountered into a state of turmoil and confusion.

And now, or so it seemed, the storm had driven a local population of micros into Crisp's neighbourhood. Into Crisp's home. And to the wolf's disbelief, into Crisp's pants.

"Aww, don't be mean. We're not causing you trouble, Mr Wolf. In fact... oh, look at that. It looks to me like you're very happy to see us."

The fox pointed. All the other micros stared. Crisp whined in horrified embarrassment as he felt his cock beginning to twitch. To swell and stiffen just as it had while reading the horror novel; while hearing about the protagonist forced out of his home and into the public eye dressed in nothing but those dancing shoes. He spread out his hands, trying desperately not to let any of the assembled hoard of tiny, wide eyed and giggling visitors see his shameful excitement. But the more they laughed and the more he cringed with anguish, the faster his erection began to grow.

"Stop... s-stop looking. I'm n-not... I mean, I don't..."

Crisp turned, shuddering in agonised excitement as he exposed his rump to the micros and they squealed with delight. He took at step to try and escape, to make a break for the living room and close the door behind him before any of the micros could slip through. But of course, in his haste he'd forgotten not just about the underwear wrapped around his ankles, but the sneakers with their laces still tied together. Again he toppled. Again he fell to the floor in a yelping, bashfully quivering heap. And this time, with their presence revealed, the micros did not simply watch. They flocked towards him, and began to climb and scramble all over his exposed, prone body.

The wolf could do nothing but lie there, his hands wrapped around his crotch to both hide his shame and protect his most intimate regions from further interference by the micros. He could do nothing as foxes and wolves bounded up and down the length of his legs. As dragons ran their smooth scales through the soft fluffy fur of his tail. As countless micros crawled beneath the fabric of his t-shirt and began to not simply explore, but to actively assault Crisp in the most terrifying manner he could imagine. Not with violence. Not with any kind of malice. But with tiny, dexterous hands and footpaws, tickling at his sensitive underarms, his flanks, and his belly.

"N-nnaa-ahhh-hahaha!"

Flailing wildly, kicking and thrashing, his hands unable to remain bound to his crotch as he lost all control of his motor skills, Crisp howled with laughter as the myriad micros beneath his t-shirt tickled his torso. He could feel his cock twitching and straining as he flung his body around upon the hallway floor, but knew that as long as the micros were tormenting him like this he would be unable to hide it. Thus his goal changed. No longer dedicated to concealing his erection right away, but rather to ridding himself of these ticklish pests. With all the willpower at his command Crisp grasped at the base of his t-shirt, still wailing and bucking with gleeful, uncontrolled mirth. Little by little he began to tug off the garment, forcing the micros assailing his belly and sides with their paws back into the light, and soon after revealing those busily tickling his armpits. They kept on working though, seemingly unconcerned by the wolf's actions until the very moment that he flung his t-shirt away, leaving his hands free to sweep them aside.

"N-nhhh- ahh..."

The wolf growled with frantic frustration as no sooner had he pulled his t-shirt off, the micros tickling him ceased their torment in perfect unison. They raced, shrieking and howling with glee, down the length of his torso once more, and sprang en masse at his straining, stiffened cock. For a single moment the bare fur and scales of perhaps ten different micros was rubbing and grinding against Crisp's erection, each of them taking their turn before parting and giving the next micro a chance. They squirmed and wriggled with delight as their ministrations made Crisp yelp in pleasure, and left his cock twitching and drooling as they departed once again; moving on a fraction of a second before the wolf's paws could reach them and at long last secure his cock safely between his fingers.

"Aww... that's no fun. How are we supposed to play if you won't let us use the equipment."

The fox's small, shrill voice rang out once again. He was clearly the leader of this little troop, always at the forefront of the action and always the first to vocalise what they were all obviously thinking. This leadership role became even more clear as without any further words, at least nothing that Crisp could hear, he pointed down towards the wolf's feet with one paw, and up towards Crisp's torso once again with the other. The assembled micros around him nodded, giggled, and sprang into action once more.

Four or five of the tiny furs raced back up to the wolf's upper body, and to Crisp's horror resumed tickling him once again. Rather than focusing on one particular point on his sensitive torso however, they darted from spot to spot, prodding and poking oh so briefly to ensure that no matter how quickly the wolf drew one of his hands free from his crotch to grab at them, he always came away unsuccessful. For the second time in far too brief a period, Crisp found himself overwhelmed with the helpless fury of his own laughter. Flailing and bucking, squirming like a madman as he found himself snatching at handfuls of his own fur, brushing away patches of empty space while all around him new eruptions of ticklish excitement burst into being.

By the time the wolf felt the pressure building around his ankles, it was too late. He was too caught up in his ticklish torment to be able to lift his head with enough control to glance down the length of his legs, and thus all Crisp could do was guess the reason he was suddenly no longer able to move his legs independently of one another. Already his motion had been severely limited in that area by the underwear resting around his ankles and the binding of his shoe-laces, but now even that range of motion was unavailable. Sure, he could still lift his legs together, but given that he could feel the movement of micros upon his legs, that probably wouldn't be particularly helpful. It was highly likely that while he was being tickled, they had further bound his legs together; probably still using both his shoe-laces and underwear in order to do so. Even now they could quite easily be continuing their work, and he was so consumed by the laughter and ticklish sensations assailing his torso, there was practically nothing Crisp could do about it.

When finally he felt the micros beginning to evacuate his lower body, and those tickling his torso beginning to relent in their torment, Crisp actually began to relax. Yes his face was still flushed with humiliation from the tickling and the binding and the obvious erection which this whole situation and indeed its own embarrassing presence was causing, but at least now he had a small glimmer of hope up ahead. A sustainable belief that his torture at these mischievous micros hands was coming to an end, and that soon they might leave him to recover. To free himself, and tend to the erection they had provoked in whatever private, personal manner he saw fit.

A belief which blossomed into being one minute, and burned to ash the next as the wolf watched the micros begin to congregate around him once more. They approached from both sides of Crisp at once, clutching between them what looked like another set of shoe-laces. This pair emerald green, and stolen no doubt from his favourite, smartest set of shimmering, jade coloured designer sneakers.

"W-what are you doing with those?"

The wolf swallowed thickly as he asked the question, exceedingly worried that he already knew the answer.

"Please, you've already tied my legs. I c-can't get away. I haven't even tried again. You don't need to tie my arms up too."

Grinning toothily, the tiny fox glanced over his shoulder at his many comrades. They all giggled, and he glanced up at Crisp curiously.

"Tie your arms up? Who said we were going to do that? Although, now you mention it, that would be a great use for these gorgeous shoe-laces, wouldn't it?"

Crisp knew that they had almost certainly been planning that from the start, and that the fox was just trying to tease him further by insinuating that he was making himself responsible for his own situation. Nevertheless, the micro's teasing was working. He felt himself squirming with renewed worry, and whimpering in self-deprecating anguish as once again the micros flung themselves at him, grabbing at his arms with blinding speed and proceeding to restrict their movement before he could so much as think about flinging a single one of them aside.

"A-ahh!"

Wriggling madly as the micros rolled him over, Crisp's twitching, dripping erection pinned between his furred body and the soft carpet of the hallway floor, the wolf felt his hands being tied together behind his back. To his added horror they even managed to wrap his tail up into the mix, ensuring that he couldn't even bend over to conceal himself; laid out forcibly flat by the bound positioning of both wrists and tail.

"O-oh... ohh god, p-please..."

Whimpering in embarrassment. In nervous excitement. In uncontrollable arousal, Crisp felt himself being rolled back over. He felt a single pair of tiny pawpads scrambling up his right thigh, and before long saw the leader of the micros standing astride his stomach. Beneath him Crisp could feel all the other micros squirming around; delving between his soft fur and the carpet, spreading out around the entire length of his bound body. His eyes remained fixed on the fox's miniature form, trying to figure out what the micro was thinking as he stood there, grinning knowingly from ear to ear.

"Please? You want us to do something for you? Well why on earth didn't you ask sooner."

The wolf's eyes bulged. He whined in frustration and glared at the micro.

"Y-yes... I... I want you to... to l-leave me alone."

Tilting his tiny head to one side, the fox smiled.

"Leave you alone? Even though you're all tied up and... well..."

He glanced over his shoulder, towards Crisp's aching, drooling hard-on.

The bound, blushing wolf nodded furiously.

"Yes. I... I just want to be left by myself. To not h-have to deal with you any more."

Again the fox smiled, broader and more eagerly than before.

"And if we do that for you, if we do exactly as you say... will you tell people that micros aren't so bad? That we can be kind, and helpful, and friends to the big world?"

Crisp groaned in anguish. It should have been obvious to the fox by now that he'd say anything. Do anything to get away from them.

"I promise. I'll t-tell everyone I meet!"

The fox licked his lips, beaming from ear to ear.

"Well then. I think we have a deal."

He raised a single hand in front of his face, where Crisp could clearly see it, and with a surprising amount of volume snapped his fingers.

Instantly, Crisp yelped as he felt the micros still squirming beneath his body press their hands against the flesh of his body. Exerting pressure which alone would not have amounted to much, but together was sufficient to lift his bound, helpless body clean off the ground.

Once more the fox snapped his fingers, and the wolf began to panic as he heard a familiar sound. A creaking. A clicking. The sound of the front door's handle turning, and its lock being unfastened.

"H-hey... what are you..."

The myriad micros carrying him upon their shoulders began to move. Towards the front door as it swung open. Outside, the rain was still falling and the sky still grim with storm-clouds. The perfect weather for staying indoors. For people like Crisp and all his neighbours to stand by their windows, gazing out into the street at the marvels of nature.

Crisp realised what was happening. He realised what the micros were doing, and what he had said to their leader.

"N-no! When I... when I said I wanted to be alone, I m-meant alone in my house."

The fox giggled from where he was standing astride the wolf's body, guiding the micros carrying Crisp with simple arm movements and calls for slight direction changes.

"Oh, don't be silly. This isn't your house. It's our house. Besides, you wouldn't like it in here. There aren't nearly enough people your own size to entertain you. Not nearly enough big pairs of eyes to watch you. To see you squirming and... twitching."

Again the fox glanced at Crisp's cock, now straining and throbbing violently as much like the rest of his mind the wolf's libido realised what was about to happen.

Crisp howled one last time in a desperate plea for mercy, then fell silent as he felt rainwater beginning to hit his sneakers and the base of his legs. He clamped his muzzle tightly shut, not wanting to risk a single soul hearing him as he was carried outside. Into his front yard and down the path. Lightning flashed in the sky above, blinding the wolf momentarily. The rain seemed to begin falling harder than ever almost on cue, soaking his bare body and sticking his lush fur tight to his rosy, embarrassment flushed flesh. With his fur wetted and slicked back, his straining, aching erection looked longer and thicker than ever. It seemed to tower up into the stormy sky before Crisp's wide, horrifyingly excited eyes. So obvious, so clearly visible that he felt like it was already exposed to the entire world's collective gaze.

Near the base of his garden path, just beside his mailbox, the micros set him down. The majority of them instantly began to race back towards his open front door, squealing with laughter as they glanced back at the trembling, squirming wolf lying there under the open sky. A few remained, however, their leader among them. They stood in the shelter of the mailbox itself, and watched as Crisp lay there, silent and simply staring down at his own cock.

"O-oh..."

The wolf whimpered. He bit down on his bottom lip as hard as he could, but no matter how much it hurt, he couldn't hold back his gasps of desire. His face felt like it could evaporate the water off it faster than the rain could fall, it was so hot with embarrassment. His whole body shook with arousal and humilation; the two feelings so interwoven at this point they were almost indistinguishable.

"Ohh... ohhhh g-gosh..."

His moaning grew louder as he watched his cock begin to twitch. Faster and more regularly, in time with the furious pounding of his heart. Even amongst the pouring raindrops, Crisp could see the arousal glistening as it flowed down the length of his erection, pre-cum oozing liberally from his cock's swollen tip.

Every rumble of thunder, every flash of lightning made Crisp want to cry out in ecstasy; convinced that the next sound he heard wouldn't be natural, but a person crying out at him in anger. In disbelief that he, a grown man and a fairly well liked member of the community, was lying bound and naked outside his house... so close to cumming that every drop of rain to hit his member felt like the caress of a loving hand.

Crisp was so ashamed. So appalled to have gotten into this situation. He couldn't imagine ever showing his face in the neighbourhood again... couldn't imagine leaving his house, leaving his room for fear that the micros would be waiting to take advantage once more and make him beg for this same kind of wonderful torment. All he could think about, all that existed beyond this moment, was reliving it. Just as he had spent his morning daydreaming of the character in his book, of their shameful situation and how he would possibly endure such embarrassment. For days, for weeks... all he wanted to do was hide away in his bedroom, toes curling inside his favourite red sneakers, briefs hanging tight around his ankles, and relive this very instant.

Staring at his cock. So exposed. So publicly, shamefully exposed, and ready to be caught and judged at any moment.

Lightning flashed and thunder boomed once again, the storm directly overhead; drawing practically every member of the neighbourhood to their windows in fascination.

Crisp wailed happily, and began to cum.

By Jeeves