Gummy
My name's Timothy Whiskers. I'm a mouse.
Lately I've been living with a fox named Keith. I've got a little spot in a shoebox under the couch in his apartment. It's a pretty sweet deal. I get free snacks and wifi access. And every once in a while, he'll stick me up his ass.
Sometimes he'll even clean it out first.
We also live with a wolf named Jerry. He's Keith's pet, Keith's lover, and just about the sexiest beast alive. Big gut, wide throat, unapologetic stink -- who could ask for more? These days he goes on all fours most of the time, and it suits him pretty well. He's not as shy as he used to be, but he tries to be friendly and polite.
Still, I know what he's thinking. His mouth waters every time he talks to me. Nice as he is, I know he'd eat me if the circumstances were right. It's how he lost his job and ended up a feral wolf in Keith's legal possession to begin with -- he ate one of his customers at the sandwich shop where he worked.
It was a mouse. Just like me.
We're friends and everything, but his belly doesn't know that. It just wants a second helping of rodent tartar. I've got a funny sort of feeling that I'm going to be spending my retirement in his gut between a side of fries and a milkshake.
I guess I should be horrified by all of that, but the fact is... well, I'm a sick little fuck. Living with a guy who thinks I'm snack food? That's about the hottest thing in the world. He teases me about it. I've spent a lot of time between his teeth. He'll swallow things while I watch. It's all good.
Anyway, Keith. He owns a candy shop in the mall. And not just one of those dinky little hole-in-the-wall closets or anything, no, this place is massive. Some of the stuff they sell comes from the usual candy distributors, but a lot of it is made on-site. They've got a huge kitchen in the back, with something like a dozen foxes all running around, making lollipops and chocolate truffles and fresh noughat and all sorts of cool stuff. And they're always coming up with new ideas for sweets and treats. They get a lot of repeat business because their recipes are rotated regularly, always coming up with something new.
And Keith likes to take his work home with him.
Jerry and I get to "beta test" all of his latest confections. My personal favorite has been the Neopolitan Sticks -- chocolate bars with a strawberry-vanilla cream filling. Jerry goes nuts over the Tiramisu Balls. He takes our feedback into account, and sometimes he'll offer us multiple versions of his newest creations, until he's absolutely certain that he's got it right. I have to admit, it's kind of neat playing such an integral part in the process.
Still, I never guessed exactly how integral I was about to become.
One night, I was sitting in my shoebox, poking around a tutorial about animating sprites for my Atari games, when I heard the WHUMPH of someone landing on the couch above me, followed by a sharp rap-rap-rap on the wall. I poked my head out and found a cheerful fox face hanging upside down, peeking under the couch's lifted skirt.
"Ah, Timothy Whiskers," he sang. "Just the gentleman I wanted to speak to. Could I ask for your attention for perhaps fifteen minutes?"
I stepped all the way out to meet him. "I guess?"
"Marvelous." Gyoink. I was pulled up by the back of the shirt and set on Keith's crossed knee, and he looked down at me, bubbling with excitement about something or other. "So. I know you're a busy mouse, so let's get down to business. I have a proposal that may interest you."
I cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
He jabbed me backward with one claw, and I landed flat on my back. "I've had an idea for a new line of candy," he mused, rubbing my stomach up and down. "It's bold, exotic, and somewhat controversial. It speaks to the baser desires of some of our clientel, and because of this, there have been those who have argued that it should not be pursued. I'll be the first to admit that it's a bold risk to take, but I've decided that it must be done."
"Yeah?" I grinned, grabbing the finger that was rubbing me. "So what do you need me for?"
"I need you," he said with a toothy, foxy grin, "To model for it."
I blinked. "Model for it?"
"Think of it," he said, gesturing with a paw as if he could make it appear out of thin air. "Gummy Mice, in eight lucious fruit flavors. Life-size. Bite-size. Eerily realistic. Made in the image of Timothy Whiskers. A charming dessert that no fox could resist."
I laughed. "You're kidding."
"Nope," he said, fluffing up proudly. "It's one of my best ideas yet. I'm sure there's a market for it. Think of all of the raccoons and badgers and cats and dogs who would love to gobble up little mice. Well, now they could do it without hurting any innocent rodents." He gave me a broad grin. "Of course, since you're the inspiration for this idea, I thought it would be delightful if it was based on you."
I gave him an embarassed grin. How touching. It has always been sort of a peeve of mine. Every day, big predators gobble up little defenseless animals who don't want to be eaten. They're not supposed to, of course, but most of them get away with it. It was an interesting idea -- offer them a confectionery substitute.
I smirked. "I bet your mouse customers will love it."
Keith's smile vanished, and his eyes flicked to the side. "Well, therein lies the controversy. We're proud, of course, to have customers of every species at our store. Believe it or not, but we do get complaints from bears from time to time -- bears! -- because we stock gummy candy in their vague likeness."
I nodded. I've gone up against some grouchy bears in my time. "I believe it."
"So I can only imagine the backlash we'd receive if we started encouraging our customers to eat candies shaped like prey animals," Keith frowned. "And I'm not so sure it wouldn't be a step in the wrong direction. This will be a secret development, distributed through carefully selected channels, with none of the company's usual branding." He gave his tail a coy flick. "So what do you think? Would you care to be a secret candy?"
It was hard to resist the idea of giving big predators everywhere the chance to eat me. "Why not?" I shrugged.
Keith nodded, pleased. "Then we begin tomorrow!"
The next day, I went in to the kitchen with Keith. I'd been there a couple times in the past, so I had a few familiar faces to greet. I got a smug grin or two from them; they knew what I was there for. I guess I hadn't really thought about what the modeling would entail. Maybe posing for some photographs. But no.
They wanted a full-body mold.
"Most gummy candies are flat on the bottom," Keith explained. "The texture only comes through on one side. This will be a slightly more complicated mold; I want it to look as realistic as possible all the way around."
So I spent half an hour sucking air through a straw with my whole body encased in some sort of plaster, followed by a slow, slow, slow chipping as Keith opened it up. The result -- two pieces of plaster, each with a perfect indentation of half of my body -- front and back.
"We'll use this to make a model we can manipulate," Keith explained. "The ears and the tail may have to be changed just a bit so that the final product has a bit more structural integrity. Maybe something to make the limbs more articulate. Otherwise... that should do the trick."
And that was the last I heard of the project for a couple weeks. I'd actually forgotten all about it when Keith came home one evening and called for me. He'd brought home a large cardboard box, and he insisted on showing me immediately.
He opened the box on the kitchen table and set me inside. "Go ahead and take a look," he beamed, his tail whisking to and fro. "I'm very proud of how they turned out."
It was uncanny, and only slightly disturbing. Eight mice, each a different color, stretched out on their backs. Each of them had my face. Smiling pleasantly, legs slightly bent.
"These are the very first prototypes, one of each flavor," Keith explained, pointing them out. "Cherry, orange, lemon, lime, green apple, blue raspberry, grape, and pineapple. They taste like any other gummy candy, but look at the detail."
When I looked closer, I could see fine hairs etched across the surface. Individual toes on all of the paws. Yeah, the tail and ears were slightly larger, but I never would have noticed if Keith hadn't said anything about them. The whole thing looked very natural.
"And look at this!" He touched the grape one and slightly bent the legs back and forth, and then nodded the head up and down. "Just a little bit of articulation there; we picked the angles so that all of the limbs would look natural if they flopped a little, and you can bend them without tearing the gelatin."
I nodded, impressed. "That's a real work of art," I agreed. "Almost seems too nice to --"
"Oooo, are we sampling?"
A shaggy wolf paw plucked the cherry mouse by the tail. I looked up, horrified, to see it dangling over Jerry's open jaws. The tail poked out of his lips as he chewed. Hard. His tongue rolled out to scoop it up.
GLORP.
Down in one. The bastard never had a chance.
My knees buckled beneath me.
Jerry's ears flattened when he realized we were both looking up at him, horrified. "What?"
Keith's muzzle spread into a broad, amused grin. "Jerry. I'd like to introduce you to the latest and least avowed creation of the kitchens of Owens Chocolates." He held up the orange mouse to give Jerry a closer look. "Timothy Whiskers. Now in eight fruit flavors."
He blinked. Looked at the candy. Looked down at me. Picked up the two of us and held us side to side for a comparison, his cheeks starting to flush up. Licked his nose once.
"Well, it was good, anyway," he said, grinning sheepishly at Keith.
Keith patted Jerry on the belly, smiling smugly. "Glad to see they're a hit. You can keep the rest of the box. I'm going to go get changed." And he padded merrily off.
Jerry looked down at the orange mouse as if he was judging the trajectory to pop it in his mouth, but then he turned to look at me and seemed to think better of it.
Me, I was grinning from ear to ear. I pointed up at him. "You know what this calls for?"
His ears pricked up, surprised. "What?"
"A roleplay."
It was early in the afternoon. I was in the shadow of the kitchen table, trying to fit a wobbly gummy mouse into a pair of pants as he grinned back at me, blank and stupid. Jerry had decided on grape flavor in the end. I heard a metallic grinding noise coming from the other side of the kitchen, and my heart started pounding. The electric can opener. Oh god this was going to be awesome!
Wolf paws approached, and Jerry set his plastic meal dish down next to me. Thing was a lot taller than I was. "Just about ready?" he asked, dropping to all fours.
I struggled a little bit with the grape mouse, trying to get him to sit up straight. I finally got the balance right, but his posture lilted slightly to one side like a rag doll. "Yep," I said. "Just give me a second."
He nodded and turned, tail swaying casually as he padded around to the other side of the island counter. Cocky swagger -- wuff knew he was getting his. "Holler when you're situated. Safety word is 'red light'."
I scrambled up on top of the short stack of coasters Jerry had brought in from the coffee table in the living room. From my perch, I had a perfect view of the entire bowl. Big mound of canned dog meat, sagging in its cylindrical shape. But not for long.
"Okay, go!" I called.
Seven hundred pounds of wolf came stalking into view. Head down and shoulders hunched. He was in full beast mode. Even though I knew we were just playing, I couldn't help getting a little shiver down my spine.
"Hey Big Guy," I called up to him cheerfully.
"Hey," he grinned, addressing the candy sat next to his food dish. "You seen Keith around lately?"
"Hmmmm... Last I saw him, he was headed for work."
"Really." THOOM. One big paw squashed the gummy mouse against the floor. I squeaked reflexively. Then he picked it up by the tail and dangled it in front of his nose. His eyes were sharply focused and his muzzle spread into a sick bastard grin.
I was already shaking. "So, ummm... Did you need him for something?" I asked.
"Nope," he purred. "Nothing going on here that he needs to be involved in."
PLUT. The sound of a grape flavored gummy mouse hitting a pile of dog food from two feet up, hard enough to leave a two-inch dent. Its little body was twisted uncomfortably, smiling off into space. Ewww. It wasn't hard to guess what it would feel like, based on the smell. My pulse was pounding.
"Hey!" I shouted. My voice was unsteady. "Gentle, I could've -- "
CHOMP. I squeaked and dodged backward instinctively, eyes wide. Half the meat was gone, but the gummy mouse was still there. He'd missed by maybe half an inch. He stared down at his bowl, cheeks bulged, molars working, tail waving back and forth.
I'd seen him like this before. Oh god oh god.
"Jerry, what are you doing?" I squeaked.
GLUNK. I could see his adam's apple chug once, and then he grinned. "It's called 'lunch'."
I cringed reflexively. "But you're not going to hurt me, right?"
CHOMP. Another bite to the other side of the candy mouse. His little island was barely larger than he was. A low growl from the wolf as he chewed. swallowed. Licked his nose.
"Right?" I squeaked.
A little smile.
Then he yawned.
"Ohmygod, HELP! HELP!" I screamed as he descended on the bowl. His tongue rolled out, thick and broad, and scooped up the last mouthful of meat from the bottom of the dish. And I watched myself roll along with it, watched as the jaws folded closed neatly around me. He closed his eyes and chewed. Serene. Meditative. His tail sweeping from side to side. His head tipped back, his throat worked once... And then he opened his eyes again, a shadow of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Wow," I grinned. "I --"
His paw came down and lifted me up. I panicked briefly, suddenly concerned that he was going to take things further, but he just lifted me up and set me on the kitchen table. I was just about at his eye level. He had an enigmatic expression on his face. Before I could ask...
He opened his mouth.
Thick, pointed canine teeth framed my view. Thick ropes and bubbles of drool and mucus hung in the cavern. And there, in the back, cradled delicately between tongue and soft pallette, was me. Pantsless, but unhurt.
I gasped, realizing what had happened. I had to get back into character. "Oh thank god," I said, relieved. "I --"
His throat suddenly dilated, and the gummy me just... slipped inside. The back of the tongue rose again. Gluck. Just one smooth motion.
That was the last I saw of me.
My teeth were already chattering. But then he had to go and...
Oh god...
He tipped his head back. Two fingers against his adam's apple. Sloooooowly tracing the way down. I watched my own descent with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Steadily down his thick neck, steadily across his hairy chest, until finally... it came to a stop.
One paw on his gut. Stroking possessively. "Last stop, bottom floor. End of the line."
He belched. Deep. Gutteral. Echoing. Drew it out for two whole seconds, open wide in my face. Like the last chug of a flushing toilet.
"And that sound means we've got one less mouse to worry about."
He spit into his dog dish. A tiny pair of mouse pants.
WOW. I was shaking so much I couldn't talk. I couldn't think straight.
"How was I?" I squeaked out at last.
One big paw came down on me. Thud. I was flat against the table, just my legs and butt hanging out. His nose was so close that I could feel his breath, warm and moist against my ass. "Very soft," he murmured. And then came the long, thick wave of his tongue, pasting my butt, screwing me up red hot. "And very sweet."
My eyes watered. "Oh god, you're going to have to do that again," I squeaked.
"What, the whole thing?" he asked, surprised.
"No, no, just the lick," I assured him.
It hit me like an earthquake. It shook me to my marrows. Wound up to my breaking point and then demolished by his tongue, licking me over and over again until I was screaming and coming at the same time. I swear, I almost blacked out. When he lifted up again, I was sprawled out on the tabletop, panting, staring out blindly into space.
Totally awesome.
An amused voice drifted into my consciousness. "Take some time to recover. I'll be in the living room."
I nodded slightly, distracted.
I lost track of time for a while. It seemed like it was hours before I felt like I could move again. But when I was ready for act two, I climbed down the table leg and stumbled into the living room.
I found Jerry stretched out on the couch, laying on his side. Belly sticking out. Look on his face like he was having his fucking way. Something was on TV, but he didn't seem to be paying much attention to it. He gave little notice as I climbed up onto the couch, scampered up his leg, and curled up on his belly. I dug my nose deep into his fur, closed my eyes, and savored the lingering afterglow. I couldn't remember the last time I felt so absolutely, luxuriously sated. So serene and relaxed from my nose to my toes. I stayed there for a long time, bathing in the aroma of wolf musk, slowly rising and sinking with his breath, listening to the bubbling in Jerry's stomach.
I'd been in his stomach before. On friendly terms, of course. I tried to relive those images as I listened, imagining myself in that candy mouse's place, being packed with a whole can of dog food in an organic meat processing plant. Turning into soup.
I know I'm crazy and everything, but I swear there's a sort of intimacy that goes with being swallowed alive. It's being conquered by something larger than you, but it's also... well, like they're opening up to you in a way. Showing you a part of themselves that they try to keep hidden. Laugh if you want, but it's hard not to feel some sort of connection to someone once you've been to the bottom of their stomach. You can't get much closer to someone than by being physically inside them.
"How am I doing in there?" I asked at last.
"Oh, you're all settled in," he assured me with a grin, giving me a quick glance before returning his attention to the television. "You're just sort of sitting down there in the bottom at the moment. Not quite so heavy anymore." He gave his cheeks a smug scratching. "Hate to say it, Tim, but I'll have you wiped out in about half an hour here. Nice knowing you though."
Mmmmmm. "Likewise."
He kept me updated on the situation from time to time. All together, it took about three hours for Jerry to go from completely sated to completely hollow again. I was long gone by the time Keith came home.
"Hey boys!" his voice sang from the doormat.
Jerry turned his head and gave a lazy wave. "Hey Keith."
Keith grabbed Jerry's head for a little kissyface, then he suddenly became thoughtful. "Hmmm... And where's my adorable Timothy Whiskers?"
"Haven't seen him since lunch," Jerry grinned.
"That's odd," Keith said thoughtfully, starting to scratch at Jerry's exposed belly. "He's usually so happy to see me when I get home from work. It does bring such joy to my heart to see his smiling little face."
"I'm sure he'll -- *URP* -- show up." Jerry grinned smugly. "'Scuse me."
I laughed and shook my head. "You assholes."
Keith gave me a brief smirk. Of course, he was in on the game too. "Well, I bought a nice present for him," Keith said, showing Jerry a tiny little giftwrapped box. "Could you let him know if you see him? I was so hoping it would lift his precious little spirit."
Jerry reached out and nabbed the little box. "I'll make sure he gets it," he grinned.
"Well, out of these work clothes then," Keith said. "I'll be right back, and then we can start dinner."
Keith padded off. Jerry looked down at me with a grin. Flicked the giftbox up, caught it like a kernel of popcorn, and swallowed.
I knew that was coming, but it was still cute. "You bastard."
Jerry folded his paws behind his head. "I aim to please."
The next morning, I was up a little early to attend my own funeral. It was a quiet, private service, just me and Jerry. He had a nice little plot all picked out for my burial.
His litter box.
I'll spare you the gorey details. Suffice it to say, my gummy lookalike wasn't much of a match against fifty feet of wolf intestines.
Afterward, we adjourned to the kitchen, and I sat on the kitchen table to watch Jerry mix up some homemade waffle batter. There was a swing in his tail and an unconscious smile on his face.
I leaned back and flicked my tail. At last I decided I might as well ask. "So."
"Hmmm?"
"Do you think you ever would?"
I expected his reaction. He stopped whisking, his head dropped backward, and he rolled his eyes. "Why do we have to go through this again?"
"Because you give me a different answer every time," I grinned. "One of these days, you're going to slip and tell the truth. I thought that might be today."
He gave me one of those annoyed "stop being right all the time" looks, but then it looked like he was actually giving the matter some thought. He stepped away from the bowl and approached me, sizing me up. It was about a minute or two before a smile started creeping across his muzzle again.
"Okay," he sighed, looking a little embarassed. "I liked that. A lot." A paw came down on top of me. Gentle, but firm. Squeak. "I mean... a lot a lot. I... do like eating mice. And... yeah, I guess I think about it. And it was fun to spend the afternoon pretending that I ate you. And I'm going to do it again sometime."
His tail wagged low. Obviously wasn't the easiest thing in the world for him to admit. "But we're friends first and predator/prey second. You know that. If you weren't interested in this stuff, I'd never even bring it up. I am never, ever going to really eat you. All right?"
I gave one of his fingers a squeeze. "Hmmmm..."
He smirked. "So is that the answer you were looking for, or what?"
"It'll do I guess," I said. "For now."