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Tom had had enough of this place. Once an orphan, now a foster child, he thought things would be better. They were not. Not really. Not actually. He had traded one rather miserable existence for another. This was not to say that his existence was particularly difficult or hard, and the subject as to why he was hiding out in Miss Carmelita Fox's bushes was very commonplace for a youth of his furry young age of eighteen. Young adults have an acute sense of right and wrong, and when they are treated unfairly merely because of their age, it is like having one's hair pet the wrong way.

Tom didn't go very far from the scene of the argument. He was supposed to be in his room, grounded, but he was a lion. No window could keep him. Lions were natural climbers, even the young adults. So he jumped to the tree, spiraled down, and landed in his own yard --- No, his foster parent's yard, not his. This would never be home. He didn't have a home.

After patting himself down, his severely lighter mocha-colored paws traced down his slender chest all the way to his tummy, running along his baggy black shirt. He bent down to get his black pants. He had obtained some wear and tear from his frolicking in the trees. Tree climbing was meant for other animals, he wagered. Either way, he was relatively unscathed and still simmering with righteous indignity.

He was not, however, quite as ninja-like as he thought he was. His foster mother loudly opened his door, he could hear the sound from the window he had left open. He knew where her next destination was, and he knew that she would easily be able to see him as he was still collecting himself in the front yard.

So he dove to Carmelita's bush and hid. He was having an adventure imitating animals, apparently. For his next trick, a squirrel or bird. He was trembling as he heard the commotion. He couldn't hear the exact conversation between his foster parents, their voices were just murmurs, the distant music that a conversation makes when it's too dim for words. But the words police were brought up several, several times.

Tom was quite intimidated then. He quivered in the bushes, slowly backing up, and entering Carmelita's yard properly. He was on his hands and knees. He bumped into something behind him and he shot up like a tightly coiled spring.

Luckily, this little man was young, and his height mimicked his youth and so the bush pretty much provided him full cover even while standing. He turned around and behind him was Miss. Carmelita Fox. The one and only. How she was able to get behind him, he had no idea... perhaps she had been here the whole time. Either way, there she was now.

Carmelita had been watching the entire scene unfold from its onset. She had actually been paying quite acute attention to the happenings of her neighbor for quite, quite some time, but much more especially today... Given it was she who had orchestrated the incident, after a fashion at least. Her luxurious words were poisonous to the youth, poking and probing him - it was she who even brought the concept of running away to his attention in the first place.

She had been grooming Tom the very moment they met. Little playful coddling pets, little presents of candy, small insignificant things that, when done over time, built into something very significant. Over the course of their time together, little playful ruffling on the his head, tousling his head of hair turned into hugs. Of course, these hugs would be gentle, nice, sweet, and innocent... but such things were reserved for someone who wasn't a complete and massive blob. A hug from Miss Carmelita Fox, even the most carefully implemented one was more so a full-fledged enveloping. The young adult would be consumed, absorbed with thick folds and rolls of fat that the very light of high noon would be snuffed out entirely and completely.

These playful antics culminated in other little fun innocent things... Carmelita was massive, massive as massive can be, and couldn't do certain things a young nimble youthful adult like Tom could do, such as rub her body down with vitamins and oils - things to really bring out the shimmer in her light-brown coat. Her coat, while light brown, was significantly lackluster compared to Tom's lush and plush coat which was infused with youth and pep. But she was not getting her body massaged out of a want for vanity, she'd let such things slide a couple of hundred pounds ago, especially when she realized that she would never find the one, hell, she couldn't even find good enough.

Carmelita had spoken to Tom about such things after he so brazenly commented about a picture he saw in her house, a picture of a time long past when she was something of a catch. Tom knew that Carmelita styled herself to be the perfect wife and mother... and when that didn't happen, well... She shrugged, commenting casually of a hard lesson learned, "Life is hard when you grow up."

They spent hours together, just like best friends. Little did Tom realize how much sensual delight she gained at his expense when she would casually let her fat hanging breasts loose poolside, letting the sun drench her fur as he soothed her rolls of fat with his hands. Kneading the flesh, letting it spill through his hands. It was odd, at first, for Tom, but she made it seem oh so natural, so normal, and so, he accepted her attitude as the rubric of the foundation of their private extracurricular activities.

She also loved to return the favor, touching him in an assortment of ways, but mostly, she took very much joy in rolling his body around under the heel of her paw... touching every single little last inch of his body.

And now, she was towering over his terrified form, smiling wide. All white teeth, every single one of them. This fox looked sharper than a shark.

Tom heaved a sigh of relief, for if anybody knew what to do, it would be his best friend.

"Didn't go very well, did it?" She said smug, her meaty furry hand shimmying his head to and fro kindly. A plush finger wrapped from the top of his head right on down to his cheek, caressing it.

"You got to hide me, I don't want to go back there."

"Oh yeah, the police are coming." She tilted her head to the side, smiling with pure satisfaction, "I can hear them now. I wonder what they are going to do with you." She purred, her voice both lazily sensual and concerned, very exaggerated, very daring. Tsk tsk tsk, "No telling what they will do to a little lion like you when they catch you..."

"I am not going to find out."

"No, I imagine you wouldn't." And she lowered herself down and scooped Tom right into her arms. Her chest swallowed him in flabby rolls, rolls to which were still very evident even with her floral patterned moo-moo on, "Well let us find a good hiding spot for you." She knew just the place.

Tom was immediately soothed by the way her body cascaded over him. Her flabby body was not the odd bumpy cottage cheese variety, it was smooth and sensual, and soft. It had much give, making it the perfect place for him to nap on, sprawling his entire body against her chest. His size was a perfect fit for between her melons, they'd wash over him like a tightly tender embrace.

She didn't rock his body intentionally, but with every single step, she took her body responded in kind. Tom felt the flabby flopping of flesh slaps against his entire body, from tail to head. It was only a loose hold, and yet his entire body was completely obfuscated. It was a sea of flesh, the waves crashing against the shore of his tiny little body.

In the safety of the house, she took a few more moments than strictly necessary until she put him down on the ground. He felt himself deflate, calming down, though he still suffered panic in a very vague sense.

"Well now, my little sweet man... it seems you need a place to hide out for a good long while." She said sweetly, sickeningly sweet, her massive leg lifted up and placed her foot against his chest, pushing him down onto the couch directly behind him. The foot possessed flabby folds in and of itself, a quite impressive feat for feet. It was as if her entire body was just made of fat built upon fat, built upon even more cushy soft luxurious rich fat, underneath it was probably not even a solid form at all. Fat all the way down. Glorious, embracing, thick, sumptuous fat. He felt the warmth of the flesh as it consumed him, her toe was as big as Tom's very palm, and she ran those toes tenderly down his chest. A positively demure coquettish smirk eagerly displayed on her face - it was not for his benefit, sexuality, and seduction would be lost on a guy who didn't know the first thing about such female wiles, no, they were for herself. She felt absolutely pleased with this situation, she was feeling aroused beyond anything she ever thought possible.

All her hard work, all her grooming--- all those times when she had to resist just snatching him up as her own little baby boy... And now, now it was finally here. Right here. Right under her paw, literally.

Tom had since stopped trying to struggle when his neighbor was this way, he was always rendered absolutely inconsequential to her designs.

Fluffy toes were on either shoulder and traced down to his belly, she loomed downward, heaving hefty chest sagging and jiggling as she did so, "So, I can hide you here, under the condition that you will be my little tiny baby boy, forever. I will never, ever let you out of my sight again. It is, after all, the only way that I can protect you."

Tom was frazzled, the sirens of the police cars wailed closer and closer to them. Their destination was his foster parents' home, but given his addled state of mind, guilt, fear, and wildly rampant dread, he imagined that they just knew exactly where he was, that they were coming for him - right this moment. Right now.

And if he didn't agree, he would be carted away.

And so the little lion nodded his head up and down.

The feisty fox nuzzled a soft naked toe against his chin, it swallowed pretty much his entire face, his torso wrapped by the flesh of that soft padded toe. It was weighty, but it was soft, like a heated blanket. The toe curled and uncurled, forcing his head to nod in a much more exaggerated way. Her big toe rubbed against his lip, slipping down to peel the lower lip down, opening his mouth. The toe curled further, snapping the lip right back into place.

"Tell me that you agree to be mine forever." She encouraged.

And he did. His voice was weak, low, tiny... merely an exhale of breath.

And that was all she needed.

Her doughy hand slipped into the exaggerated pocket of her moo-moo and produced an extremely small ring, so tiny she had to clasp it with her nails delicately lest it tumbles to the ground. Without a flourish, she brought it to Tom. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at the golden ring, it shimmered and looked very luxurious.

"Well then, I need you to put this on. Make it official."

Official?

His little thin arm reached up, took possession of the ring, and cautiously slipped it on his finger.

The effects were immediate. Though he did not quite realize it immediately. He felt that foot pressing against his torso as it slowly slips up against his neck, his chin, and face. The bulbous flab of the foot was remarkably compressible and cushy. It was Carmilita's excessive padding that was one of the main reasons he so often played with the fox, and more or less let her have her way with him (though oftentimes, in her clutches he had no choice in the matter).

The way his entire body was absorbed into the comforting folds of her whole foot was par for the course... but the transformation was quite quick and soon he realized that she was not moving her foot against him, slathering him with her naked gentle paw, but that he was shrinking down into it, under it even. The foot usually took up a decent amount of his body... but now he could feel the walls of flesh close in against his everything.

She removed the foot and looked at him with intense satisfaction.

Tom was terrified as her meaty hand came down onto him and scooped him up. He was merely the length of one of her fingers, if that, and he didn't weigh too much either, but while cradled in that hand he found his little tiny shrunken body truly and absolutely became absorbed into the palm. The flesh spilled against the sides of his body, enveloping him, like a velvety bed. He tried unsuccessfully to stand himself up, but whenever he tried to find a grip, to leverage himself to a stand, the warm pads of her palm just accepted the pressure, sinking in to swallow him. It was quicksand of the biological variety.

Tom was not scared because of fear of being harmed or injured because Carmilita was not that kind of woman, she was overly affectionate, maternal... matronly. Being positively dwarfed by the world that once was a certainly manageable size certainty had a dread to it, but he took all this rather well.

And so began Tom's new life, not as a lion on the cusp of adulthood, but as a humanoid that was barely three inches. It wasn't ideal, to say the least, and he had a lot of growing up to do with his new charge.

Carmelita pushed him inside the neck hole of her moo-moo. He tumbled down the soft textured slope of the Fox's sternum like a snowball. Her rich fur, courtesy of his own massages, and paunchy excessive fat were enough to slow his descent. He rested above the mountain top, the heavy breast which he resided on seemed massive and beyond compare. He could feel and see, minute details that he otherwise would never have been capable of. The white tuft of hair that ringed around her breasts, blooming around the mountain, was as tall as tall grass to him. It had a striking similarity. The feel, the texture, the sheer expansiveness of it.

Tom had to continually move this way and that, for the memory form-like flesh of her breasts would swallow him whole if not the case. He also did this to maintain some semblance of balance.

Carmelita moved. He could hear the clomping of her naked feet against hardwood floors. Her body quaked and shivered, he often lost balance but the breast was quite wide and it would be impossible to slide or fall off. Sure, there was a gradual decline around the sides, but there was truly no danger. He couldn't see anything either, being under the moo-moo. This is not to say that Tom wasn't tossed and thrown every which way - what made everything just that much more impossible to honestly maintain a real balance was that the flabby flesh of the breast he so desperately resided on would quake and quiver under his feet. It felt like a groundhog burrowing under him every few seconds. He would rise, fall, collapse, unsuccessfully try to stand, and back on his butt.

And then Tom felt the world from under him shift entirely and absolutely. There was a brief time when he wasn't touching anything. It was unsettling to be without any foundation. The loose and velvet moo-moo that acted as his sky, fell like mist and snatched him, wrapped around his body, and dragged him to... well, wherever it was that they were going. It was with the article of clothings aid that he was once greeted and embraced by the cushion of silky fur and the swallowing flesh underneath.

Carmilita's body slammed against something pillowy and airy. He could hear the shutter and the groan of something. It wasn't quite wooden, it wasn't quite... it sounded like... springs? Either way, the roar was so loud that he could feel it throughout his tiny little body.

Again, he tumbled on a vast expanse of furry flesh. It smelt rather potent, vaguely like sex, though he didn't quite much know what that really smelt like, to him it was just sour with an odd biological kick to it that made him feel, well, funny... Uncomfortable. Shy even. Blushing.

The material of the moo-moo was beginning to settle over his head until it disappeared. He was now resting not on the slope of the breast mountain, but on the foot of it. He slowly stood up, admiring the sheer heart-stopping size of it all. Under his bare feet, he felt the slow but thunderous pounding of his new owner's heart. Tilting his head back to look far up at the peak which didn't end in anything resembling tautness, but instead, it was like ill-molded jelly, the breasts sludging to the side and downward.

He was laying against Carmalita, like he had so many times before, but never quite like this. She was naked, and her larger-than-life head was prompted up by pillows behind her. Even though her eyes were narrowed in a vaguely lusty bedroom sensual glazing gaze, they were still so very big and round and unprecedented.

"I am still going to need to get my fur all oiled up, my little one." He could feel that booming voice in his chest, throughout his body. Felt the pressure of it.

"B...but... But...That will take a...a day!" Tom said, frowning. But that didn't mean that he was not surveying exactly what his task might be.

"A few days, I expect... Now that you are so tiny, you can get to the very hard-to-reach places." She teased, winking.

What did she mean by that?

She pulled out a big ole bottle of lotion and raised it above them, high in the air and she squeezed....

She squeezed the entire bottle onto herself.

It came down like a waterfall. It washed against him and he lost footing. Worse? Her fur became so slick that when he started to slip and slide, he had no recourse. He slipped right on down between her breasts. The cavern was devoid of light. He got a little stuck to, and it took much effort of squirming and wiggling to free himself.

He shot out from under her breasts. Tom sped down the body to the rapidly raised incline. His momentum, lightweight, and the lotion providing no friction in the roller coaster caused him to slick uphill. And surf roll after portly roll of flesh until finally, he hit a sinkhole. There was a collection of lotion. It was a pond. Massive. Open. And he was dunked entirely inside of it.

His head broke the surface of the liquid, feet kicking to keep him swimming. Great, now he was a duck! He spits sour lotion from his mouth. He looked around this way and that, and after surveying the landscape ... he realized that he was in her belly button. Not that hard to get a geographical location, the tummy pouted outward even more than the breasts themselves.

And so, he went to work on every spot he could think of. Hours upon hours. He did roll after roll. Squirming deep inside of it, his new owner holding her flab open for him to really, really get in there. Up to her arms, armpit, her neckline... Legs...

"Now for those hard-to-reach spots..." Carmelita said, "Foreplay is over."

What did she mean by that.