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Down the Food Aisle

They say life is defined by the choices you make. Sometimes, those choices are easy. But sometimes they test the very foundations of your character, the very meaning of what it is to be you. Right now, Breakfast was faced with such a decision. The young mouse stood stock still, weighing up the two options in his hands, knowing that this decision would have repercussions far beyond the next few moments. Once he had chosen, there was no turning back.

He had to choose.

Cheezorbs, or Cheddartastics?

Breakfast looked at one packet, then the other. He would only be allowed one, and they weren't cheap. They were Predator Size, just like everything in this shop, and the mouse knew that if he had Liz pay for it and then decided he didn't want the rest, she wouldn't be happy with him. Wasting food was practically a sin in Miss Arger's household - he'd most certainly be punished. He'd probably have to give her an hour-long foot rub, if he was lucky. A foot bath_if he wasn't. The little mouse pulled an involuntary grimace at the thought. He'd definitely want the rest of the packet after _that, if just to get the taste out of his mouth.

Cheezorbs? Or Cheddartastics?

Cheezorbs were the obvious choice, of course, a staple of any 11-year-old's diet. They were cheap, highly addictive and seemed to consist of about 90% cheese dust. For some, that might count as a negative against the bright orange snack, but Breakfast loved spending the half-hour after finishing a packet licking his lips and his fingers to get to the last of the flavouring. Yet the Cheddartastics were incredibly tempting. Slightly more upmarket, they were the kind of snack he could imagine Auntie Kira having in a small bowl on her desk. According to the packet, these ones were a "New and improved flavour!", and the dot on the exclamation mark was a tiny piece of cheese. That was quite convincing. But would they be as nice as Cheezorbs?

Should he stick with what he knew, or try something more experimental?

Cheezorbs?

Or Cheddartastics?

Breakfast's deep reverie was interrupted by a barking laugh from the other end of the shop, unmistakably coming from Liz. No one else could laugh quite like that. In a rare burst of decisiveness, Breakfast decided that he would try his luck. Liz had been in a good mood recently. If he pulled a cute enough expression, maybe she'd let him get both snacks!

He scurried up the aisle to where the enormous Rottweiler was standing, a trolley beside her filled to the brim with absurdly large packages; a keg of some drink that Breakfast had never been allowed to taste, a loaf of bread twice his own size, a 216 pack of quadruple-quilt toilet paper. Bizarrely, that was far from an unusual set of purchases here. This shop was... specialist. It catered to the larger creatures of the world. Those with appetites too big for traditional supermarkets.

Those who inclined towards devouring the smaller creatures that they lived and worked alongside.

Liz was a regular.

Currently, she was talking with the shop's owner, an elephant known as Ramesh, and one of her closest friends, a Rough Collie called Sadie. Or Auntie Sadie, as Breakfast had been encouraged to call her, though they weren't related. Evidently.

Auntie Sadie was gently stroking the round stomach that interrupted her otherwise slender figure, evidence of the litter of puppies she was carrying. Even as a child, Breakfast could tell that she carried her pregnancy well, and Liz was in the middle of telling her friend much the same thing.

"I just can't get over how radiant you look!" the Rottweiler said, running a finger through Sadie's fur and shaking her head, "I genuinely hate you for this, I look like I've crawled out of a dumpster compared to you! What's your secret? It's not diet, because I know who you eat."

"Yes, it's impressive, you know," added Ramesh, gesturing to the Collie's stomach with his trunk, "And to think you're carrying so many. My wife just carried one, and she looked terrible, absolutely appalling. And such a short temper, 'Get me this Ramesh!', 'Get me that Ramesh!', 'Stop rolling your eyes Ramesh!'. Oh yes, I did a lot of overtime then, thank you very much. Compared to her, you are absolutely stunning!"

Sadie waved away the compliments, if they could be called as such, with a smile.

"There's no secret to it," said the Collie, "If anything played a factor, it was the conception. These pups were born from love."

"You ate their dad," Liz reminded her. Sadie stroked her curved stomach tenderly.

"Yes, but I didn't know I was going to do that at the time, did I?"

The three hadn't seemed to notice Breakfast yet. This was hardly surprising, since he only came up to most of their knees, but the less of a performance he made of asking for both snacks, the more likely Liz would be to say yes. The mouse stood next to her, tugged on her jeans and then held up the two bags. He opened his mouth.

"No, you can't have both," Liz interrupted dismissively, "Don't be greedy."

Breakfast said nothing, but pointedly looked at the mountain of food stacked in the nearby trolley. Liz followed his gaze and smirked.

"And don't be a smart arse," she added, "Put one back, or you'll not be getting either."

The little mouse sighed, but didn't argue. The thought of having to give Liz a foot bath with no snacks to wash it down was too much to bear. Instead, he turned silently on his heels and made his way back down the food aisle. As he left, he heard Auntie Sadie let out an excited "ooh".

"Feel this!", the Collie was saying, "They're kicking!"

Half a minute later, Breakfast stood back where he had started, contemplating the consequence of his decision. He held in his paws a bag of Predator Size Cheezorbs which he was certain he would enjoy. But was he missing out on a genuine opportunity? Maybe next time he would go for the Cheddartastics. Maybe next time he would -

Without warning, the Cheezorbs were snatched from his hands. Breakfast spun around, and found himself face-to-face with a tall boy who was sneering down at him, flashing a display of dangerously sharp teeth. It was a leopard, one that Breakfast thought he vaguely recognised, although no name came to mind. Perhaps a student from school, back when Breakfast still went there. Evidently, though, this leopard remembered him.

"Cheezorbs aren't for freaks," the boy snapped, prodding Breakfast hard on the shoulder.

Breakfast said nothing. He had no idea how to respond.

"I've seen you walking about," the leopard continued, taking a step closer and forcing Breakfast to take a step back, "Walking the streets while we're stuck in class. Think you're too good for us, do ya? What, do we smell or something? Eh, freak? Think you're better than us?"

Breakfast continued to say nothing, so the leopard punched him hard on the arm, causing the mouse to let out a squeak of pain.

"You ain't good," the larger boy sneered, "You ain't nothing. If I wanted, I could eat you right now!"

As if to prove it, the boy grabbed Breakfast by his shirt and pulled him firmly up towards his own mouth, so that the mouse was forced into tip-toes. Then the leopard snapped his jaws right in Breakfast's face with a clack. Breakfast flinched.

"Nobody'd miss you, freak," the leopard continued, "You're just a mouse. A mouse is nothing but food."

Breakfast whimpered slightly, and the leopard shook him.

"Say it!" the boy growled, "Say you're nothing but food!"

The mouse opened his mouth, but before any sound could come out, a heavy hand clapped onto the leopard's shoulder.

"Is there a problem here?" Liz asked, her voice dripping daggers. The leopard let go of Breakfast's shirt, causing the mouse to stumble back down, and then he turned and looked up at the huge Rottweiler towering over him. She was easily four times his size, and stuck a very intimidating presence, managing to fill every space she stood in without even seeming to try. A small amount of the dog's breadth was fat, but most was the natural wideness of her build coated in sheer muscle. Taking all of this in, the boy's eyes briefly widened, but to his credit, his expression remained defiant - a feat that many adults failed to manage when faced with an angry Liz.

"What's it got to do with you?" he spat back.

"Everything," Liz replied steadily, "This mouse is mine. Touch him again, and it will be your last time. Do you understand?"

The leopard stuck out its bottom lip at her, but made no other immediate attempt to reply. He seemed to be sizing her up, comical at his size, deciding just how much weight her threat carried. Perhaps his understanding of how much weight the rest of Liz must have carried aided the boy's decision, because at length he dropped his eyes to her feet.

"I -"

"Get the fuck away from my son!"

Breakfast, Liz and the leopard snapped their heads around as one to look at a figure storming down the food aisle. A second leopard was approaching with a furious expression; older, larger and by every definition rougher than the younger cat. Torn combats exposed wiry legs, while a biker's jacket that didn't really fit sat over his shoulders. Patches of fur all over the father leopard were missing, seemingly a combination of ill-health, fighting scars and self-shaving, the latter of which revealed several tattoos expressing his belief in 'Cat Power'. Before he had even reached them, Breakfast's nose scrunched up from the odour of smoke and stale beer that emanated from the figure. In seconds, the old leopard was stood opposite Liz, only reaching her chest but - like his son - seeming utterly undaunted by this fact. These two weren't just talkers. These were fighters, through and through.

"You need to fuck off, you fat bitch," the leopard growled, "You ever touch my son again and I'll fuckin' kill you."

Liz's expression didn't even flicker. She stared down at him calmly, saying nothing at all. It was an expression that buckled the knees of most who received it. Indeed, the old leopard did sway slightly, though that could as easily have been from drink as from fear. However, he didn't back down. Baring his teeth, he prodded her in the stomach, hard.

"You listenin' to me?" spat the leopard, "What, you deaf as well as stupid?"

Now, the younger leopard stepped in, placing a hand on his father's forearm.

"Dad... let's just leave it, yeah?" the boy said, more meekly than before. His advice and his arm were both shaken off.

"What?" the old leopard demanded of Liz, "You got somethin' to say you fuckin' say it."

Slowly, like a glacier breaking away and drifting out to sea, the enormous canine nodded.

"Fair enough," she said, "Your son needs to apologise."

The young leopard opened his mouth, but was cut off by his father.

"He ain't goin' to apologise to you, or to no one. He's been brought up proper, he stands up for 'is sen. You apologise to him, now, before you're drinking through a straw for the rest of your life."

Liz simply stared again, silent, judging. A shiver of anger ran through the leopard's remaining fur, and a vicious growl started to build up in his chest. For a few seconds, the pair stood with eyes locked, Breakfast and the younger leopard standing further back and watching with fear. Then, the growl finally escaping the old leopard's teeth, a long arm swung up in a flash and crunched against Liz's nose.

Breakfast gasped, and he heard Sadie moving closer at the far end of the aisle, though she couldn't risk getting involved in her state. The younger leopard watched Liz's face in horror, while his father shook out his throbbing hand and snarled, waiting for his victim to fall reeling to the ground.

Liz didn't fall. She didn't reel. What she did do was raise a great paw to rub at the spot she had been punched - a punch that would have dented a tree - and then ran a wide tongue over her gums. She was bleeding slightly. That glacial movement was repeated as the Rottweiler turned, not to face the older leopard, but down the aisle where she met eyes with Ramesh, the shop owner. The elephant nodded and began knocking off a few switches nearby, something he seemed to do with a practiced ease. Once he had finished, Liz returned her attention to her foe.

"That was a mistake," she explained. The only response she was given was another growl, and the leopard dropped into a boxer's stance. He wasn't going to waste his energy on taunts, like they always did in the films Breakfast liked to watch. This guy, the mouse realised, was in it for real.

A blur of dirty orange fur rammed into Liz's stomach, forcing a grunt from the Rottweiler, and another lashed up at her jaw. Breakfast had never seen anyone get a decent hit in on Liz. Actually... most tried running before fighting. The fight had one been going on for a few seconds and already there was a pit of panic in the mouse's stomach that Liz might not come out on top this time.

He needn't have worried. By the time the leopard swung his third punch, Liz was ready for him, and the blow landed in the middle of her open paw, causing a meaty slap to echo throughout the shop. Before he could pull his hand back for another try, Liz had grabbed him, and then her arm jerked upwards, causing the leopard to stumble and spin. With their hands wrapped together, it almost looked like ballet. The strangest, most aggressive ballet to ever be choreographed, perhaps, but ballet all the same. The old leopard was left with his back to Liz, and she wasted no time; her spare hand grasped his biked jacket and yanked it off, tearing it in several places and sending her opponent tumbling back into her chest.

"Arg!" he growled, "Gerroff you ugly f-"

He didn't have chance to finish. In moments, his entire muzzle had been enveloped in one of Liz's giant paws, and his head was yanked upwards so that he could look right into the dog's steely eyes.

"You should have just let him apologise," she said. Then her maw opened wide, and for the briefest second, as her captive's world was eclipsed by a dripping pink tongue and a pulsing throat, he seemed to finally realise what he had got himself into. He finally seemed to feel afraid. His eyes widened and his body fell utterly still, except for a twitch of his scraggly tail.

It was over as soon as it had begun, though, and the leopard was straight back to fighting and struggling. His legs kicked out uselessly beneath him, and his free hand - the one not encased within one of Liz's - began to flail upwards and beat against the Rottweiler's skull. If she felt it, she hid it well, simply sinking her mouth lower and lower until the leopard's head had almost fully disappeared inside her mouth, and which point she was forced to release his muzzle and instead silence him by clamping her jaws together around the man's neck.

Liz pulled a strange face as her tongue slapped against the leopard's fur.

Good god, she thought, as she grappled with his flailing arms and trapped them both by his side, This is the worst tasting person I have ever eaten!

It was clear the leopard didn't wash regularly, his fur tasting of old sweat and clinging cigarette smoke, and while most of her food was well-groomed, there were already small clumps of fur coming off and sticking to Liz's tongue. And this was just from the head! Liz had no doubt that the situation would get far less pleasant as she worked her way down her struggling meal. Even worse, he was certainly going to repeat on her, and this was not a taste the Rottweiler wanted lingering in her mouth.

But there was nothing for it. She had come this far, and she couldn't back out now.

Grimacing, Liz pulled the leopard off the ground, trying to aim his kicking legs away from herself as she forced his wiry shoulders into her mouth. They slid in easily enough, but his squirming meant she had to clamp down harder with her jaws, and he seemed to be rubbing himself along her tongue, spreading his vile taste as much as he could. Her body was screaming at her to spit him out and find a better meal, but she supressed the urge with a growl and pushed her meal further inside, his head now breaching her throat. Past her taste-buds, the back of her mouth embraced the leopard just as it did any food, wrapping his face in wet muscle and tugging him deeper inside, and that, Liz hoped, would make things easier. Hopefully from here she could take the Texas approach, and gulp him down as fast as possible, rather than savouring the experience as she usually did.

Her first gulp was strained, causing her captive to twitch inside of her and prompting Sadie to take another few steps forwards.

"Erm, everything alright there Liz?" she asked, but the big dog just waved her off with a quick paw, before redoubling her efforts.

Glk - glk - glk.

Her neck was stretching wide now, the silently screaming face of the leopard briefly making an imprint before sinking lower into her chest, replaced by his shoulders slipping in after him. Here, Liz had to pause, rearing her head up with half the leopard still sticking out. Calmly, although still evidently disapproving of the taste she was getting from the unwashed belly resting on her tongue, Liz let go of the scrawny wrists she had been holding down and moved instead to the top of the combats covering the leopard's legs. No time for ceremony; grasping them in two mighty paws, trousers and underwear both, the Rottweiler yanked down and pulled the clothes clean off.

Now she just had to get the rest of him swallowed while trying not to let his junk touch her tongue. It was quite likely to taste even worse than the rest of him, after all, and that was bad enough already. Thinking quickly how best to go about it, Liz made a fist and carefully placed it between his legs. Then, she pushed, and pushed hard, gulping quickly as she did so.

To say the leopard was unhappy about her solution would be an understatement. An angry, pained yell made its way through the thick layers of Liz's stomach, the only sound so far to be heard over the loud gluks of the dog's strained swallowing. Liz didn't pay any attention to the noise, and kept pushing until she was at risk of swallowing her own fist. Then, it was a simple case of reaching back for his feet, which she reasoned would also risk a most unpleasant taste, and helping those along as well. Since the majority of the leopard was already tucked safely inside her wriggling gut, gravity did most of the work, and with a final, loud swallow, the angry cat was gone for good.

Liz smacked her lips with another grimace and gestured to Sadie. The Collie took the hint and quickly scoured the nearby shelving.

"Hm... well you're driving, so it'll have to be something soft I'm afraid," she explained as her fingers danced across the bottles in front of her, "so... apple and peach or cranberry?"

"Literally anything," Liz growled, "I'd take toilet water over that guy's sweat."

Sadie grinned and tossed a bottle over to the Rottweiler, who tore off the lid without even looking and threw back her neck, guzzling down the whole thing without pause. At the end, she swilled the last mouthful around for a while, before gargling and gulping it down. All the while, her bulging gut lashed around, the leopard inside of her becoming even more active while she was drinking.

"I guess it's true," Sadie said with an arched eyebrow, "cats really don't like getting wet..."

"This one definitely didn't," Liz grumbled, throwing the empty bottle aside, "I don't think he'd washed once in his life! Oh, and Ramesh! You can turn the cameras back on now. Naturally, I'm sure we all saw him storm out of the shop after punching me."

At the far end of the store, the elephant nodded as he flicked his switches back on.

"Oh yes, it's quite interesting how they all leave after starting a fight with you," he mused aloud.

Nearby, the leopard's son stood slack jawed, his wild eyes locked onto Liz's urgently wriggling stomach. Muffled shouts could just be heard behind the layers of muscle and fat sealing the older leopard inside. Liz gave it a pat.

"Aw, look at that, Sadie; mine's kicking too!" smirked the Rottweiler.

The leopard boy spluttered a few times, which seemed to remind the others that he was still there, and then he turned urgent eyes towards Liz.

"You have to spit him out! Please!" the boy begged.

"No can do, kiddo," Liz replied, just a hint of apology behind a casual shrug, "He was out of control. If I let him out, he'd either carry on fighting me or try to call the police. Either way, I'd have to eat him again. And trust me, he was hardly the most appetising meal..."

"But..." the boy shot in, still staring at Liz's struggling, furry bulge, "but... but..."

Sadie placed a slender hand on Liz's elbow, and gave her friend a meaningful look.

"Liz," the Collie said softly, "Be nice."

Liz rolled her eyes.

"You've really become a pushover since you got those pups inside you, you know," she grunted, before kneeling - with some difficulty thanks to the leopard putting up his best fight inside her stomach - in front of the stuttering boy and clapping a meaty paw on his shoulder. His knees nearly buckled under the power of it, but he managed to stay standing, and slowly his eyes raised from Liz's gut to her eyes.

"Alright, kid. Listen up. I'm going to ask you a few questions and I ne-UURP!"

The boy grimaced as Liz's belch hit him square in the face, carrying with it the scent of her last few meals - and now his own father. It seemed to have caught both of them off guard, and Liz cleared her throat while the leopard covered his nose with both paws, eyes watering from the smell.

"Sorry about that," the Rottweiler continued, "As I was saying, I need you to answer these questions honestly, okay? It might be the difference between us letting you go or you ending up like your dad."

As if on command, Liz's stomach gave an angry lurch. She acted as if she didn't even notice it, but its significance wasn't lost on the leopard. He nodded urgently.

"Good. Now, what's your name?"

The answer came from between his paws; "... Michael."

"Right then, Michael. Have you got anyone waiting for you at home? Except for your dad, obviously."

Michael shook his head.

"No mother?" Sadie asked, head cocked to one side and a sad tinge to her voice.

"No," replied the leopard, "Just me and Dad. Mum's in prison."

"Is she coming out any time soon?" Liz asked.

Again, the boy shook his head.

"Not for a long time," he said, "She killed my step-dad."

"Awful," Sadie tutted.

"Alright then, Michael," Liz continued, "This one is the most important question. You must answer honestly, understand? What exactly did you do to Breakfast earlier?"

Michael blinked.

"To... to what?"

For the first time since Liz had approached the leopard, the little mouse spoke up.

"Me," Breakfast said, looking into Michael's eyes with an unreadable expression. There was a long pause. The leopard seemed to be thinking hard about his next words. For him, it was a very, very important choice to make.

Once he spoke, there was no turning back.

"I..." he began, and then his face became determined, and he rose his muzzle to look Liz right in the eyes, "I was teasing him. And I hit him on the arm. And I said that I was going to eat him. I said mice were just food."

Liz smiled, and then gently, surprisingly gently for a dog of her size, lifted one of Michael's paws and placed in on her own stomach, letting him feel what was happening underneath.

"Anyone can be food, if someone else is big enough," she explained, "But this mouse right here? He's not food for you. He's my Breakfast. Do you understand?"

Michael could feel every struggle his father made inside the enormous Rottweiler, but he kept his eyes on hers. He did understand. As weak as that little mouse was compared to him, that was how weak his father was compared to Liz. Himself even moreso. And if weakness and smallness made you a meal as he'd told the mouse... then didn't it make leopards the same to larger animals?

Liz tussled his hair.

"Thank you for your honestly, kid. In return, let me be honest with you. I'm going to give you a chance to escape your dad's fate. It will be a slim chance, but it'll be a chance all the same. From now on, you're not Michael. You're Supper. And that is exactly what you'll end up as unless you can give me a good reason to let you go. Until that decision has been made, you'll be staying with me, just like Breakfast is. Is that all understood?"

A long silence. Liz's stomach kicked and lurched once more, but each time it was getting less powerful. Micheal - Supper - took a long, deep breath.

Then he nodded.

"Excellent," Liz grinned, standing up with the help of a nearby shelf, which buckled slightly from the attention, "Your first task, Supper, is to gather up all these clothes on the floor. Chuck them in the basket, we'll drop them off at Oxfam on the drive home."

As the leopard set about his task, with some timid help from Breakfast, the elephant Ramesh leant over his counter.

"Excuse me Elizabeth," he said firmly, "That leopard was one of my regular customers, you know."

The shopkeeper was using his locally famous 'stern' voice, eliciting a grin from Sadie. She was one of the few customers who had managed to avoid ever being on the receiving end of it. Liz, in contrast, got it on an almost weekly basis. Now, she raised her hands in apology.

"I'm sorry, Ram, but you could see he started it. I guess it's true what they say, you should never go shopping while you're hungry."

Sadie snorted a chuckle, but the elephant merely gave an irritated wiggle of his trunk.

"A specialist shop like mine, you know," he continued, "I need every customer I can, thank you very much. He didn't spend the most, but he came every week, and it adds up, you know."

"In my defence," Liz replied, with raised eyebrows, "who was it who introduced Texas to this place?"

Ramesh paused, and then frowned.

"Yes, okay, I'll let you off this once," he grumbled, "But the next time you eat one of my regulars I'm giving you their tab, okay?"

Liz nodded with a smirk, and then looked over to the two boys who were now standing beside her very full trolley.

"Come on, boys," she said, "Lots to get to tonight."

Then, resting her bulging gut on the trolley's handle, the three of them made their way out of the shop. Breakfast glanced over to his new housemate, and saw that the boy was quietly staring at his own feet. Ramesh and Sadie gave them a little wave before returning to their earlier chat, and it seemed that the older leopard had been entirely forgotten. As the sliding doors closed behind Liz and her boys, a last comment from the Rottweiler was heard.

"So, Supper, have you ever given a foot bath before?"