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I am a mouse. My name is Timothy Whiskers. A lot of folks will just call me Tim, but I like to go for the whole name. It's got the whole cute thing going on. That's a pretty important advantage when you're dealing with most animals. You tell them that they're dealing with a mouse named Timothy Whiskers, and it's completely disarming. It's one of my few advantages, and when you're a mouse, you want to go for every advantage you can get.

See, the fact of the matter is, most animals don't really like to talk about it, but mice get eaten.

Sure, yeah, I know what you're going to say, this is civilized society, we've worked past all of that, predators are making an effort to get along with prey animals. I've heard it, you don't have to repeat it to me. The thing is, when you're going through grade school -- grade school! -- and you go in the next day and that guy you were sitting next to isn't there, and he doesn't show up for the rest of the school year, and everyone just sort of pretends he was never there, you sort of start to make some connections. I'm sure that there are still wolves and bears who get caught for taking home a deer and slicing them up for steaks, but seriously, when was the last time you ever heard of someone being arrested for eating mice? It happens -- everyone denies it, but it happens -- but the animals who do it never get caught. I mean, it's just so easy for them to get away with it. Nobody really pays much attention to mice, do they? There's too many of us. They never even bother to register most of us. I've never had a collar a day in my life, and that's a fact.

And there's the simple fact that no one really likes mice all that much.

You're a mouse and you go into a store, you get treated like vermin. Everyone thinks you're there to steal something. They keep an eye on you. Most of them are polite enough, sure, but they either condescend to you -- it's hard to take someone seriously when they're just a couple inches tall, I guess -- or they give you the robot treatment, no emotions, they don't want to let anything slip because they don't have a single thought about you that you won't find offensive. Some of them just don't give a damn, nothing to hide the fact that they're completely disgusted that you even exist.

Reading that, it might sound like I'm bitter. Really, I'm not. In fact, I'm relieved that I figured it out on my own, because it's pretty obvious that nobody had the guts to tell it to my face.

I figured out what was really going on when I was still in high school. I was working my very damnedest, trying to keep up my grades in the face of mountains of meaningless garbage work, when it suddenly clicked with me. You've never heard of a mouse president, a mouse lawyer, a mouse doctor, a mouse CEO. If you have, they were long shots. Clear minority. I started to wonder how many mice survived to adulthood. To old age. Say whatever you want, but I really don't buy this afterlife stuff -- heaven and hell. It seems too much like a band-aid that they put on your feelings when they're hurt -- oh sure, things are bad now, but just wait until you're dead, things'll really pick up for you then. I saw myself squandering my one short life making myself miserable trying to memorize facts and dates and quadrate irrational bolynomials and crap like that. Crap I was never, ever going to use. And why? What kind of future was I working toward? If I was three years away from the bottom of some cat's litter box, why wasn't I enjoying myself?

So I dropped out. Left home. Took on the real world. Sure, it was scary, but hey! I was my own mouse! If animals were going to treat me like vermin, then dammit, I was going to act like vermin.

I've bumped around town for a while, experimenting with different dwellings, different lifestyles, trying to figure out what the best fit was for a mouse who had no intention of ever, ever having a marketable skill. I'll tell you, never try living in a restaurant. Those places are fortresses, and everyone who works there has a pissy attitude besides. Seems like a great place to go for scraps, but it's really not worth the headache. I don't do the dumpster thing either. Not that it's beneath me or anything, there's just too much competition -- and not just with the other homeless mice. There's rats, sure, but then there's homeless predators, guys who'd much rather get their paws on a mouse than a pawful of garbage.

Lately I've been living in a department store. Found a little nook in the wall near the furniture section. It's clean, dry, not much competition, and the store itself is right on the busline. Perfect spot to stop and rest between my adventures. And if I ever get caught there, hey, I blend right in with the customers. No one's ever going to bother a mouse browsing the furniture section, right? And the sad fact is, most of the animals who work in a place like that are a breath away from being homeless themselves. I'm sure my nook has been discovered once or twice, but nobody seems to mind.

Sustenance is a problem though. You can't eat apholstery, and if you could, that's the sort of thing they'd call an exterminator on you for. No, when I have to eat, that means hitching a ride on a bus. I found it's best to have a number of different spots to go to for scavenging. Local grade school is great for that kind of thing. Kids can be the most darling angels in the world if you approach them at the right age. It's usually not too hard for me to find the one or two kids who are happy to give a bite of their peanut butter sandwich to Timothy Whiskers. Sometimes I'll give them a hand with their arithmetic, or at least as much as I can remember of it.

But besides that, I spend most of my time going to various bars in the area. The seedier, the better. The more of a dive the place is, the less likely the owner is going to have a fit if he finds a mouse taking a shower in the sink. The drunker the patrons are, the less likely they're going to notice a mouse snatching peanuts or pretzels off their tables. Most places have free taxi service if you act like you're drunk enough, and some of them won't even care if you don't. A free ride home at the end of the night feels mighty good.

But it's more than just a place to enjoy free food and utilities. You also meet some interesting animals going around to bars -- animals who'll chat you up whether you're a mouse or a ferret or whatever. They'll even get you a free drink sometimes. Sure, you'll meet some shady types -- if you think a mouse's life is fragile in day-to-day life, you should see what it's like when you're up against a drunken bear -- but hey, life's too short, right? If you don't take chances, you won't have any adventures.

And, of course, there's the other reason. The fact that I'm into guys.

Now, mice aren't exactly known for being tolerant of gays. Part of the reason I left home in high school was because I wanted to get out before my parents found out. It's a survival issue, really -- being preyed on from above and all, mice are under a certain degree of pressure to keep the babies coming that you don't really see in the bigger mammals. And you know, really, I can understand that, I don't have a problem with it. But I've got nothing to do with it. I'm not bringing any more mice into this world, and that's all there is to it.

Lucky for me, I'm also into bigger guys. I mean bigger guys. Foxes, raccoons, wolves, bears... I can't explain it, but I won't lie and say it's not there. I want some dick that I can wrap my arms around and kiss. I want some paws that I can curl up and sleep beneath. Also lucky for me, the guys are willing to obligue.

Although there are certain risks involved.

' One time I was at this gay bar -- really nice place, much nicer than my usual hideouts, I was there purely for some social stimulation, no scavenging or anything like that. I was in the mood for a little anonymous action, so I made my way to the bathroom, scampered into a stall, and waited on the rim of the toilet. A little while later, I hear footsteps padding into the adjoining stall, sits down, two black paws on the floor under the partition. Fox, no question about it. Well, I didn't mind a little bit of that. So I made my way up the wall to the glory hole, clung with my front paws, and took a peek through it.

I have a bit of an unfair advantage at my size; I can see through the entire stall if I care to, but for the sake of courtesy, I try never to look up at their faces. Liked what I saw though. Bright orange fox, kinda scrawny, pants around his ankles, big poofy tail draped in my direction. Gorgeous ass on him.

A brief pissing noise echoed around under his butt, tail lifted ever so slightly, and then an unmistakable shitting noise. God. There's something about the sound of bowels the size of my entire living quarters moving that always gets me rock hard. It's the whole domination thing. Nothing's quite as sexy as a guy who'll shit right in front of you. He knows he can do it 'cause he's got you right where he wants you.

Yeah, forgot to mention, I'm a total pervert.

He reached over with his paw and beckoned with one claw. Ah, an invitation. Exactly what I was in the mood for. I hauled myself up -- hole was wide enough around that I could stand on the edge of it and my head was just over the edge so I couldn't see him -- and balanced as carefully as I could, working down my pants. And then I clung, ready for him to finish me off.

I guess I didn't realize that he was actually planning to finish me off for good.

I heard him twisting down, and I could feel the presence on the other side of the partition, hot, moist breath against my chest. And then... sssshhhhhhhhlop, one long, long, gooey lick up the front of my body. I swooned, nearly let go and fell backward -- only managed to catch myself at the last second. Took me a second to catch my breath; couple more of those and I was gonna lose it.

But there was only one more lick. It was the one that wound around my body, scooped me straight through the hole in the partition, and sucked me into his mouth. I scratched and clawed and tugged against the force of it as it drug me backwards, and then his two front teeth caught around me like a vice, held me in place. I wore myself out thrashing around, and then his tongue simply lapped out, scooped me up like a chicken nugget, and... CLACK. Teeth closed off all around me. And I was trapped.

And I heard a grunt. He went on shitting, not a care about me. The encounter was over, as far as he was concerned. I was snack food; actually swallowing me could wait for later.

And as I sat there panting in the darkness, I felt myself starting to go slightly dizzy. The air wasn't the best, and it was making me a little lightheaded, giving birth to all sorts of strange and surreal thoughts. I was inside another animal -- completely inside of him. For all I knew, he ate mice every day. I was inside an animal who was passing mice. Nothing left of them but fox shit. And that's where I was headed -- that's where I was undeniably headed. That was my future. It was grim, but... I dunno. I wasn't really sad or anything. I'd kind of already expected that that was the direction my life would take one of these days.

And I laughed at the sheer absurdity of it. I was going to be foxed to death in the bathroom of a gay bar. Eaten by a sexy, sexy fox. Wiped off his sexy ass. I had nothing left to lose.

I jacked off.

I sat on his tongue and pawed off as he sucked on me. And then I took to humping his tongue. Nice gooey, slippery texture, once in a lifetime opportunity, why not? I didn't even realize that he was actively stroking me back until I suddenly, gloriously came. And then I fell limp, warm and content and nervous and excited. I turned around and looked straight down into that dark, sucking hole in the back, waiting for the inevitable... Waiting...

And then movement. The sounds changed. I was bobbing up and down, up and down... and suddenly I was weightless. A brief moment of helpless freefall, and then a bright, wet plunge. Not like being swallowed -- at least, not what I thought it would be like. I kicked and spluttered my way to the surface of wherever it was that I was, and found...

I was treading soda. Brown cream soda, as it happened. The glassy walls all around me were smudged and foggy, but I could see... vaguely familiar surroundings, just from a perspective that I wasn't familiar with. And looming above me was a fuzzy orange mountain of fox. He peeked down at me from over the rim of the glass with a mischevious smirk on his face. I realized that I was experiencing a strange sensation of freedom all over my body, and it took me a second to realize where it was coming from -- I'd lost my pants at some point during the struggle. Judging from the way he licked his nose as he looked down at me, I had a feeling that they had moved on in a decidedly aliamentary direction.

"Well," he said. "Good evening to you."

"Hey," I replied, summoning my most charming smile. We both knew he held all the cards here, but damned if I had to admit it. "Nice to meet you."

The world tilted up suddenly, and the rim of the glass touched his lips. The glass was slippery; I found myself sliding down until I bumped against his nose, pushing back with both paws as he slurped noisily. I was floating quite a bit lower when he set the glass down again; he'd drained just about half of it.

"And what's your name?" he asked, mildly curious.

"Whiskers," I grinned. "Timothy Whiskers. At your service. You?"

"Just Keith, thank you," he said. "And what's a nice mouse like yourself doing showing off your dick in the bathroom at a place like this?"

I shrugged. "Just looking for a blowjob, I guess. Thanks for not eating me, by the way."

"Oh, you're welcome." He raised his glass again, more quickly this time, mouth open. It was all I could do to scramble backward fast enough to keep the tide from sweeping me away. I watched two ice cubes the size of my head float past; he swallowed them without comment and set the drink down again. This was a game. He was toying with me.

Damned if I didn't love it.

"Actually, it's been a while since I've had a vorarephile," he noted.

I blinked. "A what?"

"A vorarephile," he explained. "Someone who gets off on the idea of being eaten. That is why I had this sudden taste like mouse semen on my tongue, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah," I admitted. "Didn't know they had a word for it though."

"Oh sure," he nodded. "I've eaten them before."

Took me a second to get my head around that one. "You mean like... civilized... ?"

"Civilized mice, yes," he said, rather matter-of-factly. "At their request, of course."

"Well sure," I agreed, suddenly finding it hard to keep that casual note in my voice. I'd always suspected that the disappearance of civilized mice could be attributed to hungry animals, but I'd never heard one openly admit it before. My eyes were going wide, and I wasn't smiling anymore.

"So," he said, picking his soda up and swirling me around, "I suppose the question is how badly you have your heart set on living to see tomorrow."

This was... way beyond anything that I'd expected. I took just a second too long to think about how I should play this one, and suddenly he tipped the whole glass back into his mouth. Too late for anything except bare instinct to kick in -- I stuck my paws out, caught them against his top and bottom teeth, and watched him violently chug the rest of the soda and ice down his monster gullet. The glass came down again just as suddenly, and I slid all the way down to the empty bottom. And then he burped -- entirely for my benefit, I was sure.

"Just give it some thought," he said breezily.

I lay at the bottom of the glass, shaking my head in dazed wonder. "You're a real sexy bastard. Did you know that?"

"I've been called as much," he grinned. Clearly didn't mind being reminded.

"So what brings you out here?" I asked.

"Oh, just revisiting an old favorite haunt," he explained. "Watching the crowd, that sort of thing."

Yeah, could've sworn he wasn't one of the regulars; I'd have recognized him. "Oh yeah? See anything you like?"

He looked down at me intently, predator over prey style. "One thing's caught my eye, yes."

Swish! "You wanna hook up at all?" I asked, rolling out my most charming smile.

"I suppose that all depends."

"Oh? On what?"

"On my boyfriend."

Hmmm. "Boyfriend?"

He nodded. "I'm in an open relationship right now. We've been together for about a year."

Open relationship, eh? Well that was encouraging. "Yeah?" I prompted. "Is he a nice guy?"

"Wonderful," he nodded. "Better than I deserve, possibly. Full moon's out tonight, so he's out howling."

Howling? "Your boyfriend's a wolf?"

Keith nodded. "You'd probably get along pretty well with him. He loves good food."

I grinned. "Like mice, eh?"

"I've taken him out hunting," he said, waving his paw dismissively. "So are you just here for a quick blow job? Or would you like to try something more long-term if it's at all possible?"

My ears pricked up. "Long term?"

He nodded. "Entering a relationship. With the two of us. Are you available? Interested?"

I couldn't believe it! "Are you interested?"

"Well sure," he grinned. "I think I'd like to get to know you better. The only thing is, I've made an agreement with Jerry. We're free to date other guys, but only with each other's knowledge and consent. Poor thing's a little fragile, emotionally speaking. I really don't think I could manage something with you if I didn't think that you would get along with him as well. I've really come to love him very much this past year; if we were to do anything together, it would have to come with the strict condition that it be a three-way relationship."

Well this was interesting. I couldn't remember the last time I'd ever been in a stable relationship with one guy; no one much takes mice seriously. And considering the way this fox was talking about how he and his boyfriend actually go around eating mice just like me was a little bit... oh, what's the word, insane?

Still, damned if I didn't love the idea. A fox and a wolf! Maybe simultaneously! I started to daydream a bit about how that three-way might work. Maybe I could be a butt plug for the wolf while he's laying into the fox. Or maybe be between them somewhere. There was the very real possibility that they'd just try to eat me, but hey, I was pretty sure I could figure my way out of a situation like that. Besides, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

"Yeah, I'm game," I decided at last.

"Oh good," he said. "Is any particular time good for you?"

I shrugged. "My calendar's pretty open these days."

"Fine, I'll get the two of you set up. Is there anywhere I can reach you?"

"Behind the sofa sleepers section in the Dave Mart on National," I told him. "If I'm not there, just stuff a note in the crack in the corner, I'll find it when I get back."

"Sounds like a plan." And then he tipped me back so suddenly that I had no chance to react, just tumbled forward, squeaking in terror as I fell over the lip of the cup and into a cavern of pink flesh, rolled around, jumbled, and...

SPLUT. Dropped on the table top. He looked down at me, licking his nose.

"Hope you do better than that next time I see you," he grinned smugly. "Take care."

And then he was off. And I had to find my way home with no pants.