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POCKET CITY - BLACK TIE FORMAL

.30-06

Abigail stirred in her sleep at the sound of a metallic ringing coming from the kitchen of her flat. She sat up on the futon upon which she had settled for a nap late that Friday morning after her daily run. She stretched prone, and yawned as the ringing continued. With a glance at the digital clock on the wall, she felt glad that she had taken off her latex shorts and sports bra before she had lain down. She had slept through the whole day and late into the afternoon; the clock read 5:38 PM.

Abi turned, dropping her padded soles to the wood-paneled floor and letting her thin blanket fall from her body. She stretched, long and reaching, exposing her shapely breasts, flat belly, and toned legs to the privacy of her home. Her fiery orange coat of fur prickled in the slight chill of the open air and she relished the slight warmth of the quickly receding twilight that bled through the ochre curtains on the wide westward window. The metallic ringing bounced in her ears again and she groaned. It wasn't often she got a weekday off and she was determined to enjoy this luxury. She walked into the kitchen and found the source of the noise, her red, old-style rotary phone, a gift from her sister. She picked up the receiver and twirled the cord around her bushy, cream-colored tail as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a gallon of milk.

"Hello, Abigail Keegan speaking," she spoke as she opened the carton, drinking directly from the spout.

"Hello, Ms. Keegan," said a stuffy, haughty male voice, "This is Gary Alcott, I work for Mr. Duncan Haswell. We are making the final adjustments to our arrangements for this evening, and I have a few questions for you, if you would be so kind as to answer them." The voice sounded tinny and exhausted through the receiver, and Abi could hear the bustle of a kitchen in the background.

Abi finished her draught from the carton and placed it back in the fridge, her voice annoyed as she spoke with the strange caller, "Sure Gary, shoot."

"Mr. Alcott, if you please, Ms. Keegan; I prefer to keep arrangements with guests formal," he cleared his throat before continuing, "First order of business: I assume you are indeed still planning on attending Mr. Haswell's dinner event this evening?"

Abigail grimaced as her mind flooded with the realization of the purpose behind the call, and she scrambled through the mess of papers on her kitchen table, finally finding the invitation. "Yes, of course, G- Mr. Alcott. I was just getting ready." She silently cursed when she saw that the event started at 7:00 PM; she barely had time to shower and fix her hair before she had to leave.

"Good, good, and do you have any particular allergies, Ms. Keegan?"

"No, I'm not allergic to anything," Abi's tone was distracted as she quickly scanned the invitation. The voice continued to ask her similar questions, to which she answered lightly, only half paying attention.

The invitation was to a formal dinner party celebrating "growing rapport between differently-sized communities" and she saw the name inscribed in rich, black ink at the bottom: Duncan Haswell, a local micro politician and a figurehead in pushing policies designed to bring macros and micros closer together. She remembered booking him for the Fall Charity Festival hosted by her work, the Géant Petit, a few months ago. He had a kind of fatherly look to him, despite his size, and he had been quite charismatic in his speech about the new subway system installed underneath the sidewalks of the Saffron District, where most macros lived.

"And I assume you have no qualms about where you'll be sitting, Ms. Keegan?" the man seemed not to care for Abigail's blatantly distracted tone; she guessed she was only one on a large list of people he had to call.

"No, that's fine, thank you," Abigail remembered receiving the letter. Mr. Haswell had sent an associate to her house, a foreign Vulpix girl with curly white hair. She had dropped off the letter and left after a cordial message of introduction and request for an RSVP. Abi had been sidetracked with cooking for her visiting sister at the time and had told the snowy macro that she'd be happy to attend and had then forgotten almost immediately. She returned her full attention to the voice on the line.

"Very good, and for the final question: will you require transportation to the event? Mr. Haswell has made it clear that no expenses will be spared to make his g-" A clatter rang out in the background and Mr. Alcott could be heard reprimanding someone rather harshly before he returned to the phone. "Apologies, Ms. Keegan. As I was saying, Mr. Haswell has spared no expense and made his desire to keep his guests comfortable very clear. As such, he has provided transportation to and from the event for guests so inclined."

Abigail stood tapping her foot impatiently and trying to untangle her puffed-out tail from the phone cord with one hand. She wanted to shower and be ready in time, "Yes, thank you, that'd be great Mr. Alcott."

"Thank you very much for your time, Ms. Keegan. We await your presence at Silph Hall tonight. I'm sure I needn't remind you that there is a black tie formal dress code. Your transportation will arrive at 6:40 PM sharp. Have a pleasant evening."

"Yes, thank you," Abi said as the line clicked off. She clicked the receiver down, pondering who had been more rude to the other over the call, but then shirked the thought as she made her way to her bathroom, turning on her showerhead and testing the water with her hand. It was cold, and she sighed as she ran back down the hall and opened the furnace closet, then the furnace itself. The heat trap had gone out again and she had forgotten to call it in yesterday. She took a deep breath and puffed a small gout of fire into the heat trap. The flame caught, though it flickered precariously and immediately threatened to go out. Abi scoffed and made a mental note to call it in as she ran back to the bathroom; she couldn't keep relighting it if it wouldn't hold.

Once the water had warmed up, Abigail stepped right into the shower, and took no time in relishing the feeling of the hot water as it soaked into her fur and ran down her curves, her silky orange and black fur and cream-colored mane and tail being fully shampooed, conditioned, and rinsed within twenty minutes. Abi stepped over the full-body dryer vent in her floor and flipped the switch. Instantly a blast of chilly air hit her body, and she cursed loudly before raising the temperature of her paw pads to make the vent warm up faster. Her wet and matted fur quickly fluffed and dried, and her thicker mane and tail soon followed suit. Once satisfied, she turned the vent off and immediately began working on her mane and tail, increasing her body temperature while rubbing in heat-sensitive product to ready the fur for her curling iron.

As the primer set in her hair, Abigail ran to her room and picked out a black, lacy brassiere and panties, sliding them on quickly as she pulled her form-fitting, red formal gown, the only one she owned, out of her closet and slipped it on over her head, bunching the fabric around her waist so as to avoid her currently sticky tail but leaving the straps at her sides and adjusting her bra as she rushed back to the bathroom, taking a glance at the clock as she did so: 6:13 PM.

Abi got to work using her curling iron to style her hair, opting again to use her own internal body heat to speed up the process. Once she had finished curling her hair, she pinned it up so that her curls fell over her shoulders and her brushed her muzzle mane back so that it classily framed her face. She then got to work on her tail, ironing the feral fluff into simple, shiny curls that seemed to fall about her waist like a cloud. Slipping her arms into the straps of her dress, she walked back into her room to get out a pair of red sandal pumps that she slipped over her footpaws, fixing the straps as she heard the honk of a horn from in front of her flat. She had finished just in time.

As Abigail walked out of her bedroom, she stopped to look at herself in the mirror. She had made good work of her time. Her hair was an appealing mess of attractive curls that flowed in waves before parting to the right down over her shoulder to greet her red silk gown with a decollete neckline that left just enough to the imagination. The fabric dropped from her bust and followed the flowing contours of her waist and hips. Her tail matched her mane, flaring out teasingly behind her, before it tapered out and flowed down around her legs. A gash in the left side of the gown exposed her calf, stopping short of her knee, and the hem of the dress stopped just short of her ankles that bore the red straps of her low-heeled pumps that showed more of her footpaws than they covered.

Satisfied with her work, Abi grabbed her black leather handbag before heading out her front door, locking it behind her and walking down the sidewalk to the curb, where an expensive-looking black car awaited her, a sharply dressed Stantler macro behind the wheel. She climbed inside and sighed with relief, and the driver spoke as he pulled away from the curb.

"Don't we look awfully pretty tonight, Miss." His voice was smooth, but nasal, and he spoke in a polite tone as he paid her the compliment.

"Thank you, sir," Abigail accepted. She was relieved that she didn't have to walk all the way to the hall where the dinner was taking place; she would have surely been late. "It was awfully nice of Mr. Haswell to have provided a ride to the event."

"Yeah, Mr. Haswell certainly spared no expense; it's not often I get to drive a snazzy car like this." He smiled into the rearview mirror, "Duncan's a great guy, and I'm sure he wouldn't want to inconvenience anyone."

"Duncan?" Abi looked surprised, she didn't expect such casualty from the driver.

"I've known Mr. Haswell for almost 20 years, met him before he went into politics. He's always been the kind of guy that wants to make sure everyone gets along," the driver paused, adding in a jovial tone, "He also likes to be hands on in stuff like this. I bet if he could have driven everyone here himself he would have."

"Well, I'll have to thank him in person, then," Abigail said with a polite smile. "If I can even meet the guy! I'm surprised he just invited me to a dinner party right out of the blue like that. I'm just a manager at the Géant Petit."

"That's the cafe that caters to both macros and micros, down by the fountain plaza? The one that does those charity drives for micro communities?"

Abi nodded, "Yep, that's the one. We serve both sizes, although it's obviously easier to serve people like you and me." They shared a chuckle. "I also plan most of the charity events they put on." Realization struck Abi, "Maybe that's how I fit in to macro/micro relations."

"I'm sure that's at least part of the reason you were invited to the party tonight, Miss..."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Abigail Keegan," Abi blushed.

"Anthony Dodson." Abi could hear the man's smile in his voice. "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Keegan."

"Same to you, Anthony," Abigail smiled politely, "and Abi's fine."

"Alright, Abi," Anthony maintained his smile, "As I was saying, I'm sure that your work in charity is at least part of why you were invited out here. Did you know that the Géant Petit charities have made two entire macro districts of the city safely micro-accessible?"

"Wow, really?" Abi remembered Mr. Haswell's speech from the Charity Festival, "I didn't realize that we had such an impact."

"Yep. The Charity Festivals have a lot more effect than most people think." Anthony slowed the car to a gentle stop outside a well-lit entrance to an official-looking building. "Here's your stop on the left: Silph Hall. You have a nice night, Abi, and I'll be on call to pick you up whenever you're ready to leave. Enjoy the party!"

Abi stepped out of the car and shut the door, looking to Anthony in the window, "Thank you, and you too!" She waved goodbye as he drove off towards the parking lot.

Abigail walked towards the open doors of the imposing Silph Hall. The hall had long been a place where macros and micros convened to discuss social topics, and contained a ballroom and an auditorium, as well as two courtrooms and a large reception foyer. As she reached the doors, two macro Mightyena men wearing suits, one with a checklist, stopped her and asked for her name. Once she provided it, she was let through into the foyer where she saw countless micros walking around in lanes designated for them and about eight or nine finely dressed macros like herself standing about in an open-step zone.

Everyone present was busy chatting and a quiet chatter arose from the micros as the macros cordially whispered and murmured amongst themselves. One of the macros, an unusually tall Persian man wearing a butler's uniform and swishing his tail annoyedly, quickly waved Abigail over to the group. She approached quietly, careful to stay away from the micro zones so as to avoid stepping on anyone, and when she arrived at the group, the Persian man introduced himself softly.

"Ms. Abigail Keegan?" she nodded, "I am Mr. Gary Alcott, head of staff," said the Persian, his voice just as exhausted as before but more austere and much smoother in person. "If you could keep your voice down while in the foyer so as to avoid echo and discomfort to our smaller guests, it would be very much appreciated." Abigail nodded in understanding. He led her to the left pair of a set of two double doors; the right one remained closed. "Please, Ms. Keegan, wait here a moment and we will have you seated shortly."

Abigail quietly stood in line as the macros were led to their seats one by one by Alcott. She noticed micros dressed in waitstaff uniforms by the other set of doors directing the micro guests into small stairwells that lead beneath the polished wooden floor. As the line thinned she was able to look into the room, beyond the large tables to see small elevators leading up to platforms with railings and furniture more appropriate for the diminutive guests. These were a familiar sight; the Géant Petit also had raised platforms like that to better facilitate micro and macro interaction without requiring the intimidating process of physically interacting. She watched a small couple, two impeccably dressed Meowstic micros, take a seat at one of the tables across the room and her stomach let out a low rumble.

Just as her mouth began to water, Mr. Alcott approached her and motioned for her to follow him, to which she happily obliged. They walked around the elevated platforms, and Abi could hear the indistinct chatter of conversation all around as she passed through the room to her table. Once she had reached her seat, Mr. Alcott informed her that she could speak normally as the ballroom was designed to be size-accessible and the acoustics were engineered to absorb echoes and loud sounds.

Abigail was the last to be seated of five at her table. She sat in between a hefty, middle-aged Purugly woman with an outrageous feathered hat wearing a purple gown and a pink dress coat who was currently reading a small pamphlet and an elderly but important-looking Torkoal dressed in a tuxedo with a top hat and monocle. Across from her sat a Raichu just as venerated and well-dressed as the Torkoal and the two were conversing with each other in a gentlemanly manner. A mysterious-looking Luxray woman, her hair pinned up in a wavy bob, seemingly slightly older than Abi herself, sat to the Purugly's right, wearing a black maxi gown and looking around the room in a pensive manner, taking particular interest in the nearby tables of similar size. She was the only person at the table that Abi recognized; Laci Simon, the famous intersize chef that made her career on printing her cookbooks in both sizes, with appropriate measurement adjustments. Abi often watched her cooking show to learn new recipes herself.

A golden Vulpix macro dressed in a classy waitress' outfit approached the table with a tray of champagne and asked Abi if she would like a drink to start the evening. Looking around, Abi noticed that the two gentlemen to her left were drinking what looked like brandy, and the Luxray woman had a martini in her hand. Abi took a glass of champagne and thanked the young waitress, who dismissed herself with a bow of her head and went to offer more drinks at another table.

After a few moments, once everyone had been seated, there was a tapping of a glass coming from the speakers that pulled the low conversation to a stop. Everyone looked up towards the front of the room to see a wide-faced Raticate wearing a well-pressed black suit and tie and bearing a charming smile on a screen over a podium, upon which the tiny owner of the visage stood. He addressed the crowd in the silence, his voice gravelly but not harsh and his tone jovial.

"I want to first of all thank all of you for coming to this dinner tonight. I'm your host, Duncan Haswell, Pocket City's Director of Macro-Micro Relations," he waved his hand out in a gesture towards the crowd, "I have invited some of the most prolific faces in the Saffron District that are involved in bridging the gap between macros and micros in our beloved community," Mr. Haswell paused as he opened his arms wide. "If our macro guests would please stand and be recognized; you are our guests of honor tonight."

The macros present, four tables of five, all rose and a low rush of applause could be heard from all of the micro-sized tables. Once the applause had subsided, they seated themselves again, and Mr. Haswell resumed speaking.

"I won't bore anyone with statistics or political fodder," he said with a laugh, "If you want that, you can bother me for it after dinner is served. Food will be presented shortly, until then, waitstaff will be carrying hors d'oeuvres and drinks can be requested at any time. Please, enjoy the evening." Mr. Haswell smiled and the screen above the stage switched off, the chatter of the party resuming only a moment later.

As the chatter resumed, the Purugly woman turned to introduce herself to Abigail.

"Darling," her rich voice was as pompous as it was ladylike, "It appears we have not met. My name is Madam Deborah Potting, might I have yours?"

"Abigail Keegan, but Abi is fine," Abi returned with a smile.

Madam Potting smiled back and stroked the fur collar around her neck before responding, "Ms. Abigail Keegan, what a beautiful name."

Abi blushed slightly, "Yours is as well, Madam Potting."

"Oh, thank you dear!" Madam Potting chuckled, "I dare ask, are you by chance the one who plans those absolutely lovely Charity Festivals every year?"

Abigail smiled politely, "I am, but I don't actually plan them all mysel-"

"Splendid, darling! You know, my great niece simply adores visiting the Festival every year," the madam sighed wistfully, "It does my old heart good to see the poor dear leave the house. The girl's something of a shut-in, you see."

"Ah," Abigail replied, "Well I'm always glad to get more young people involved in the community, especially micros."

Madam Potting beamed at Abi's reply as the goldenrod waitress brought her a glass of water. She thanked her and began rooting around in her handbag, the conversation seemingly at pause for the time being.

Abigail's stomach doubled down on its protests as she quietly sipped on her champagne and waited for the hors d'oeurvres. She hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning and couldn't wait for the food to be brought out; her mouth was almost gushing thinking about it. She then noticed the Luxray woman bend down towards the ground before coming back up and taking a sip from her martini, and Abi noticed a few other macros at other tables doing the same. She looked down around her and realized that the waitstaff carrying the hors d'oeuvres were micros!

Surprised, Abi bent down to pick up the nearest one, a young Lopunny woman carrying what looked like glazed fruit with bits of glazed meat on top. The waitress seemed undisturbed, looking at Abi with vacant, glazed eyes, and didn't resist as she placed her on her tongue, rolling the micro and appetizer around in her mouth, tasting the sweet and savory flavors of the hors d'oeuvre coupled with the musty, salty flavor of the waistcoated Lopunny. Abi's eyes fluttered at the sensation of the Lopunny woman as she tried to maintain an equilibrium as she was soaked in saliva and lost her grip on the hors d'oeuvre. Abi breathed in sharply, causing the micro to shiver on her tongue, and was about to swallow when she caught a glare from Madam Potting, who was looking at Abi with an expression of disbelief as she placed her water back on the table.

As Abigail froze in confusion at the madam's reaction to her simply snacking on an hors d'oeuvre, the Lopunny woman grabbed the fruit and moved to straddle Abi's teeth before trying to pull her mouth closed onto the fruit. "Eat," she muttered in a silky, dull voice. Abi obliged, crunching down on the Lopunny woman and the fruit, the literal explosion of exotic flavors across her tongue eliciting an "mmm" as she enthusiastically chewed the mouthful, swallowing the resultant mess with little thought. As what remained of the snack traveled down Abi's gullet, Madam Potting's expression quickly changed from disbelief to disgust, and she began to chastise Abigail.

"Ms. Keegan," she said in an hissing whisper, "What could have possibly possessed you to eat that poor waitress? And in such a barbaric method too!"

Abi held her hand over her mouth as she licked her chops clean of the dribble, answering calmly, "Madam Potting, at least half of the macros in the room are doing the same. Besides, they're not even carrying trays, I'm pretty sure they're volunteers." Potting's expression didn't change as Abi continued, "She practically demanded that I do it; I was just giving her what she wanted."

Abi gestured to the Luxray woman to illustrate her point, and Madam Potting looked to see her picking up two waitstaff, putting both hors d'oeuvres in her mouth with one of the micros and plopping the remaining waiter in her martini. Laci glanced over at her observers, smirking ever so slightly as the micro in her martini tapped his fingers on the rim of the glass and the one in her mouth crawled deeper into her mouth, tugging at the hors d'oeuvres. She closed her mouth around the trio of morsels and daintily chewed, swallowing softly and sipping on her martini as the remaining micro seemed uneffed at the voracious display.

Madam Potting looked offended but quickly withdrew from the conversation as Abi sipped more champagne and stooped down to grab another waitstaff. She felt more ready than ever to eat the food that was to be served any minute, and as she sent the second hors d'oeuvre to join the first one intact, she impatiently started to tap her left foot. Shortly after the tapping began, she felt a tickling sensation on her resting paw. She looked down to see a rogue micro wearing a slightly rumpled black suit and tie. The Luxio's hair was tousled and he bore the youthful horniness of a teenager on his face as his shocked eyes lifted from Abi's bare toes to meet her own.

With a slight smile, Abi leaned back slightly to get a better view and flexed her black-padded toes, holding the position in front of the Luxio boy, who smiled up at her. She gave a slight nod, and his smile became a stupid grin as he stepped in between her toes. Abigail sat up straight again and began gently working the micro in between her toes, squeezing and grinding his body against her pawpads while nonchalantly sipping on champagne. It wasn't until a few moments had passed that she noticed the Luxray woman looking at her with narrowed eyes and a dry smile. She looked away after slowly blinking at Abi, swallowing another mouthful and sipping her now unoccupied martini, her knowing smile still on her face. Abigail hid her blush by asking for another glass of champagne.

When the Vulpix girl came by to refill Abi's glass, she noticed that Abigail had grabbed another micro waiter carrying an hors d'oeuvre, and as she chewed around the micro, shredding his clothes and pulping the small cut of sausage and cheese that he had carried, the gold-furred waitress spoke.

"I see you are enjoying the smol d'oeuvres, shall I send for a tray for the table?" she addressed the group with a bright smile.

The two men simply continued their increasingly raucous chatter, oblivious to the question, and Madam Potting scoffed. Abigail swallowed and opened her mouth to speak when the Luxray woman spoke first.

"No thank you, my dear, the waitstaff are providing plenty as they come by." Her voice was mature, smooth, and bore confidence behind haughtiness. "If I could get a refill on my martini, however..."

The golden Vulpix nodded and rushed off to the kitchen, carefully avoiding stepping on any of the smaller waitstaff as she passed them.

Inside Abi's belly, the young Grovyle man landed softly in a pile of bitter-smelling mush. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, he began to stumble around in the wet and sticky environment, tripping and then recoiling slightly as he badly cut his hand by landing on something sharp. He picked up what had sliced his hand, the deep gash burning hot as stomach acids seeped into it. The object was irregular, slimy, with some matted fur on one side, and as his eyes finally adjusted, he noticed it looked vaguely red before losing interest and discarding it. Looking up, he saw another waiter, a Linoone, that had moved to the far wall of the stomach and sat with his back against it, his vacant, heavy-lidded stare focused on nowhere in particular, though he waved casually once he realized he had been seen. The Grovyle waved back, then decided to sit down underneath where he had entered and wait with the other waiter. Just a couple more hours and he was off the clock.

Meanwhile, Abigail's right foot's passenger was stirring, and Abi began pushing at him harder with her toes, being careful not to crush him while steadily increasing the pressure then releasing it suddenly before starting over, never giving him a real break. Her wavelike tail swished behind her and as the podium's screen flickered to life she toyed with the boy, smushing his face into her toe pads as Mr. Haswell began to speak again.

"I'd like again for our honored guests to take a stand for a quick round of applause in celebration for the goal of this event: to recognize the far reaches our community has taken to unite the macro and micro populations of Pocket City. It wouldn't have been possible were it not for these outstanding members of the Saffron District and their efforts and donations."

Abigail scrunched her toes together to move the micro under her footpaw into her arch so he wouldn't be pancaked into mush when she stood up. The low roar of applause sounded about the room and once it had subsided and the macros had been seated, Mr. Haswell began a speech about how the macros present had been major proponents and benefactors to the local micro communities, but Abigail was barely listening as she played with her little footslave under the table.

"Nicolas Yettle," the Torkoal gentleman slowly rose, "who has provided hot water and gas to the Saffron District for decades and has long lobbied for and recently helped fund a plan to make it available to the micro residents as well."

Abi sipped her champagne as she wrapped her toes around the Luxio boy's head, almost smothering him with her slightly musky toe fluff.

"Wayne Feifstat," now the Raichu gentleman rose, "the man who paved the way for accessible electric power for the micro families in the Cerulean Suburbs that lie just north of the Saffron District, as well as providing affordable electricity to all sizes in the Saffron District for nearly forty years now."

Her pawtoy shifted as Abi ever so slightly increased her pawpads temperatures, causing them to begin to sweat and dampen their prisoner.

"Laci Simon," the Luxray woman took her turn, "who has made a clear effort for nearly a decade to fund food drives and promote local micro grocery businesses as well as adapting a large number of cultural recipes of both sizes to be viable for the opposite size."

Abi began scrunching the micro with her pads, grinding him into the insole of her pump as she finished her glass of champagne.

"Deborah Potting," the madam stood proudly, "who, alongside her late husband, pioneered intersize marriage rights as well as donating large sums of money to intersize causes, one of which is responsible for the accommodations here tonight."

Abi was solely focused on the little guy under her toes, and was gently but firmly squeezing his limbs between her toes as he hugged and kissed and humped them. She almost didn't even notice when Mr. Haswell called her name.

"And Abigail Keegan, who has been the major planner for the Géant Petit's Semiannual Charity Festival events, the program responsible for the new micro subway system in the Saffron District, for the past three years."

Abigail shot up, heat radiating off of her as she blushed beneath her fur, leaning all of her weight on her left foot as she hadn't had time to adjust the little guy in her sandal when Mr. Haswell had spoken. She sat down as soon as the applause subsided and Mr. Haswell began wrapping up his speech.

As she sat down, Abi stooped to adjust the strap of her sandal while at the same time spreading her toes to check on the Luxio boy. He was breathing ragged but still had that silly grin on his face and his tongue flopped out of his mouth as he lay on his back. Abigail giggled to herself when she saw his now much more rumpled suit and messy hair, and slowly closed her toes back over him, sitting back up and straightening her hair a bit. Her eyes narrowed a bit and she blushed again when she felt a lump that hadn't been there before she lifted her toes.

A moment later, she heard Mr. Haswell's speech end, "And with individual recognition out of the way, I implore you all to eat and enjoy the rest of the evening. Let the full party be under way!"

As soon as the screen above the stage had flickered off, Abigail saw the golden Vulpix girl approaching with a platter of various steaming vegetables and meats, and her mouth began watering anew, the few smol d'oeurvres she had eaten only egging her hunger on. She absentmindedly massaged her passenger with her right foot as she tucked into the veal steak that the Vulpix waitress brought to her, supplementing her meal with various pieces of fruit and veggies from the platter, making her plate rather colorful. The Vulpix also presented the table with a selection of wines, pouring out the preferred glass for each macro at the table.

Meanwhile, inside Abigail's stomach, the two micros struggled to breathe the heavy, hot, humid air. They watched each other's blank expressions without emotion as the alcohol burned their noses and eyes and soaked them to the bone. They looked towards the pucker above, barely able to make it out against the rest of the stomach walls, as they heard gulping noises and watched as chewed veal and plant matter was squeezed into the chamber. The food landed with a plop in the Grovyle's lap, but he did not react. As he began to lose consciousness, he was swiftly buried to his neck in a pile of food matter as the stomach walls began undulating and the chest-high alcohol began draining. The Linoone heard a splorch behind him as he felt himself being pulled into a sphincter again. The last thing to cross his mind were the chilling red glare of those eyes he had seen before clocking in, as he was pulled ass-first into a dark, hot tube before he too lost consciousness.

As Abi worked through her delicious meal, she noticed that the two gentlemen to her left had hardly touched their food and that their laughter and chitchat was as loud as ever as the room buzzed with the sounds of laughter and talking and eating and quiet music. She bore through the last of her steak and vegetables as she saw the Luxray, Laci, drop something in her glass of wine. She locked eyes with Abi as she smiled and tilted the glass backwards to drink, revealing a micro Liepard waitress who looked distressed and much more energetic than the other waitstaff had that night, but she soon disappeared into the wine, which subsequently disappeared into Laci's maw. She blinked at Abi as she had done before as she swished the mouthful before swallowing it. Madam Potting had noticed the waitress in Laci's wine as well, and was quite visibly disdainful of her surrounding company, though she sat in polite silence as she ate her own meal of salmon and sorrel, choosing instead to listen to the two men across from her.

Abi finished her food without speaking, simply enjoying listening to the humorous anecdotes of Mr. Yettle and Mr. Feifstat, who were very obviously embellishing their stories to their audience of ladies, and gently grinding the micro in her shoe into her paw pads, feeling his face pressing into her plantar pad now. She patted her happily digesting belly, now contentedly full, when the Vulpix returned to ask the table for their dessert choices. Abi drooled again at the thought of a slice of angel food and sorbet, and the five placed their various orders, letting the atmosphere of formality sink in through the ambient classical music.

Once the desserts arrived, the gentlemen began telling stories again. The table was engrossed on a particularly funny story being told by Mr. Feifstat, and his well-kempt mustache bobbed enthusiastically with every word. As Abigail began eating her dessert, she noticed a tiny face belonging to a Rattata peeking up at her from within the cup of the angel cake, buried in the sorbet. He beamed at her from her plate and she smiled back, scooping a bite of the dessert opposite from its passenger and slowly and sensually licking it off of her spoon, making a show of using as much of her tongue as possible and maintaining eye contact with the tiny stowaway. Laci intently and Madam Potting disgustedly watched Abi shamelessly play with her food as the waitress filled up her third glass of wine. Before she left the table however, she leaned in to Abigail and whispered in her ear.

"That dessert has been especially prepared by our chef to suit your particular tastes, Ms. Keegan. Please make sure you take your time and enjoy it, compliments of the Haswell Foundation." Abi smiled torridly and giggled before nodding and thanking the Vulpix girl, never breaking eye contact with the micro.

Laci watched quietly as Abigail scooped up the micro with her spoon, only pretending to listen to the gentlemen's stories now. The naked treat was young, just before highschool age by her educated guess. He looked up at Abi lovingly as she lifted him towards her face, and she returned his gaze as such before she opened her mouth. The Rattata boy gazed into her gaping maw in awe, reaching out and touching her tongue before the appendage reached out and wrapped around him, dragging him into her mouth. She relished his flavor, sweet but in a meaty kind of way, and gently gnawed on him, enjoying his soft and tender texture. He laughed happily as she moved him about her mouth, it was almost as if he had been marinated. She pinned the boy to the roof of her mouth and swallowed her spit before tasting him again, marveling at how his flavor wouldn't go away before taking a large bite of her sorbet and mashing him into it.

The micro inside Abi's mouth was almost in heaven. This was the moment he had always been waiting for, the reason for which he had been born. As his face and body became smeared with soggy angel food cake and chilly ice cream, he pictured how his goddess looked from the outside, tasting him, and was filled with a surge of joy and determination. He almost wondered if she liked how he tasted before his body was shaken by a moan of delight that resonated from deep within her throat, which he noticed he was being pushed towards by the lovely mattress that was his goddess' tongue. He squealed aloud, his mind bursting with a flood of emotions. Finally, after all those years of being told about her, being prepared for her, after a lifetime of strict dieting and exercise and flavoring rituals, he was finally going to fulfill his divine duty as a snackrifice for his beloved goddess.

Abi mashed the dessert into the little guy on her tongue, losing herself in the perfect micro morsel. She felt a little pop beneath her footpaws as she curled her toes, and wondered for a split second if she had accidentally squished her passenger, but then reasoned that her foot would feel wet if that were the case and returned to the blissful bite in her mouth. She undulated her tongue to scoot him to the back of her mouth and prepared to swallow.

glg

The Rattata felt his feet brush her tonsils and a wave of ecstasy rolled up his body as he suddenly jerked backwards and her throat enveloped him to his waist. This was it, the moment she would accept him as hers and he would fulfill his purpose. His mind flashed with all of his memories, from his clan mother birthing him to his selection by the immense and awesome Great Preparer to his lifetime of training to the snowy Vulpix woman who had laid him out on his silver platter to this very moment as his senses were suddenly assaulted.

GLK

It sounded all around him like a magnificent, one-note swansong as he passed through the gates to his Nirvana. He felt himself squeezed into her gullet as her throat wrapped itself up around him, cutting him off from the outside world for good. His mind raced with overwhelming emotion as he felt himself being steadily pushed and pulled downwards, squeezed from all sides as the wet noises of his ultimate destination called to him from below. For a moment that felt like an eternity, he felt his heartbeat resonate with hers as it pulsated around him before it left all too quickly and he continued his descent. A tight ring squeezed him and he passed out of the gates and into his final realm. A blissful feeling of hot, wet, stickiness surrounded him as he passed into the holy vessel where his goddess would work him down into mush and he sang to the choir of gurgles and groans that heralded his arrival. He finally came to rest, suspended in her sustinence, and he passed out almost immediately, welcoming the darkness that signified the end to his pilgrimage.

Abigail savored the leftover flavor of the tiny boy on her tongue as she swallowed, and sighed graciously before returning to the rest of her dessert. The Luxio boy was moving again, albeit less energetically, and she gently rubbed him into her toepads as she finished off her dessert and sipped her wine while joining in the sharing of stories with the two guffawing gentlemen. Madam Potting had retreated into a book she had procured from her handbag, and Laci was listening intently as well, a satisfied look taking root in her face.

At the end of the night, Abigail felt a more than a bit tipsy. She could feel the little Luxio boy under the arch of her foot, squirming uncomfortably as she walked out of the building. Once she reached the entrance, she nearly tripped down the stairs, bumping into the two gentlemen from her table, who looked at each other with a tad bit of concern.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Mr. Yettle inquired, his raspy but healthy voice cutting through Abi's swaying vision and swimming head.

"I'll be awright... just need ta," she laughed a bit, "get off my paws for a minute."

The two elderly macros helped Abi to a bench in front of the building.

"Is there anyone you need us to call upon to pick you up, Ms. Keegan?" asked Mr. Feifstat.

"Yesss. His name is Anthony Dodson. I came here innis car." Abi leaned back on the bench, spreading her toes and feeling the squirming beneath her foot begin anew.

As the two gentlemen called for Abi's ride, she removed her shoes and looked down at the insole of her right one. There, tuckered out and damp with sweat, was a little Luxio boy in a terribly rumpled suit with a huge dumb grin plastered across his face. Abi reached down and gently picked him up, causing him to seethe through his teeth.

"Well, little guy," Abi teased, "Enjoyin' tha evenin'?"

The micro nodded through his panting, and grimaced as he slowly sat up in Abi's palm.

"Can you..." he panted, "take me... to my sister... La-?"

Abi giggled at the exhausted boy's words, "Are ya sure ya don't want a kiiisss? Ta remember me byyy?" Her eyes narrowed playfully as she added, "Though a big ol' doggo like me might gobble you up if you're too forward. We like ta kiss with our tongues, ya know."

The Luxio boy's eyes widened at the prospect of a kiss; his smile quickly returned. He closed his eyes and leaned forward as Abi opened her mouth to let out her tongue, slowly dragging it up the teen's body as she slowly opened her mouth more. The boy leaned into her Abigail's tongue and began hugging it and rubbing his face on it. Abi pulled her tongue back inside her mouth with him on it, gently tasting the Luxio boy. He was too weak to protest, and just let it happen.

The micro was salty from being under her paw for the past two hours, and Abi rolled him around on her tongue, mulling the subtle musky flavor of his fur before dryly swallowing him whole. She mused that he wasn't as tasty as the Rattata had been, but had a good taste, and was fun for sure. The two gentlemen had finished calling her driver and had witnessed the whole event. They looked at each other and shrugged dismissively as Abi gulped a bit harder, the Luxio boy's suit dragging in her throat and slowing his descent into her belly.

Anthony Dodson pulled up in the car and a moment later Abi stepped in, carrying her sandals and handbag, which swayed with the smol d'oeuvres she had requested just before leaving, and the car drove off into the night. A few paces behind the two old gentlemen that were again chattering away stood Laci. She wore a wry smile as she watched Abi's car turn the corner down the street. She had seen Abi eat the Luxio too, and she quietly laughed to herself as her own personal driver pulled around to pick her up.

"Master Leon is not with you, ma'am?" asked her driver as she stepped into the car.

"He found a ride home," Laci said, turning to the well-endowed Banette woman waiting for her.

"I assume that ride is in some broad's belly then?" the Banette woman replied.

"Oh come now," Laci prodded, "It's not like this isn't a regular thing with him. Hell, he's even taken the drop down my throat a few times."

"You're a bitch, you know that, Lace?"

"Well aware, Shao."

"Anyways, did our little experiment go like you planned?"

"Yes, you found a perfectly suitable pred," Laci mused, "That dessert was the most successful grooming thus far. At this rate, we'll be able to make an entire batch of delectable little snacks to add to the catalogue. And on top of that, I think I may just take up running again," Shaopei shot Laci an unamused look, "I feel like I could make a good friend at the next marathon."