Isaburger breath.

If he ever saw a racoon again, it’d be too soon…
The Mayor slowly rose a hand to his forehead, rubbing it gently as it felt sore to the touch. He didn’t know for how long he had slept. All he knew was that it had not been long enough, yet his body would not allow him to return to that blissful state of unconsciousness. One by one his senses slowly began to awaken along with him. His ears began to separate the blur of painful sounds that surrounded him into music. His mouth slowly organized the various flavours locked beneath his tongue and against his teeth. His eyes begrudgingly adapting to the bright light above him. The scent- borderline stench of the party still lingered. It had been a successful year in the small town. With all loans and debt finally paid, there had been a larger-than-usual budget for the New Year Office Party! Which had quickly found its way from the bank and into the paws of those thrice-cursed tanukis… Isabelle had, as always, been key in organizing the party. The (no pun intended) backbone of the office and someone the Mayor happily admitted to being unable to do his job without! Better with economy than judge of character…

It had lead to her returning to the office with both bottles of local cider as well as a box simply branded “discount”, containing several flasks of outlandish brews. The Mayor had not thought much of it, especially since a game quickly developed around the various unmarked containers! It had lead to a lot of fun! Possibly because of how potent the contents were. Something he regretted as he laid like a harshly washed-up sea-star, trying to separate up from down and sound from noise after his rough ride. His vision remained blurry, his eyes simply refusing to work, but his ears and nose sharpened all the quicker in compare. He could still hear voices, not least of all Isabelle’s drunken laughter in the distance… so the party was still going on, after all. Which would explain the smell of burgers still lingering in the alcoholic haze. He groaned. He had eaten WAY too many of those… making a mental note to NEVER challenge his canine companion to a chow-down contest ever again. Where did she FIT it all?!

For what must have been minutes, he simply remained where he laid. Slowly getting back in touch with his nerves and muscles and senses. Whatever was in that last bottle, it had really done a number on him. No way it had not passed it expiration date! That syrupy sweet substance that still clung to his teeth, no matter how many times he licked them, couldn’t be a good sign. Or maybe it had reacted badly to the spicy burgers? Or maybe it was simply because he was a lightweight on BOTH spicy food AND alcohol… why did he keep doing this to himself? It was what had landed him in this town to begin with! Neck-deep in debt and appointed a job he had no idea how to run in less than a day… He made a solemn vow that as long as he didn’t walk out of this office with dept that took years of work, farming, fishing and oddjobs to pay off? He’d never touch alcohol again. Not even look at it! It had a tendency to get expensive quickly…

As the time slowly and painfully passed, he noticed the remaining voices slowly trickling off one by one. He hadn’t listened to what they were talking about, but he could hear something that sounded like a loving threat and farewell all at the same time? It was Isabelle’s voice, he recognized that much, and after it grew silent he could hear the familiar sound of their unoiled door closing. She must have sent home the last partygoers, for she sighed happily and went to turn off the music. The Mayor thanked the local deity first and Isabelle second. He had nothing against the Village People, but they were WAY too bouncy for someone with his headache. Not that it stopped his combined secretary and tutor from humming a select part of YMCA as she seemingly hiccup-ed and wobbled her way through the office, turning off the lights. Bless her.

Slowly managing to sit up, repeating Isabelle’s name with increasing force to try and call out for her, the Mayor found himself growing more and more annoyed with each call as she did not seem to hear him. Was she really that drunk? Or did she ignore him? Or was she playing a game by pretending not to hear him? She had done it before, after all. It was cute during daytime when she did it just to get him to walk over to her for some casual chatting and gaze-swapping, but in his current state he wasn’t in the mood. Besides, he could literally FEEL that she was close! What was she doing? Skipping rope? Stomping insects? The whole floor shook to the rhythm of her… steps…?

The Mayor froze as he saw her approach. He wasn’t frozen in fear or confusion, as both would require his brains to operate. He had found himself paralyzed simply because he could not understand what he was seeing. The highway between his eyes and mind had collapsed from the sight. Approaching him, stumbling in her drunken state in the darkness, was Isabelle. Or rather a titanic version of her! Literally the length of a train with several carts! Her eyes were almost completely closed, her mumbling mouth hanging open, her clothes awkwardly buttoned… as they had been taken off and on sometime during the party. That was the one thing his mind could properly analyse, as vague and hazy images flashed by his inner eye, but he couldn’t quite recall… he couldn’t focus on that either! The monstrously huge secretary- actually, scratch that… everything behind and around her shared her immense size to scale with her! That realization caused the Mayor to look down onto himself…

She wasn’t big. He was small. He wasn’t laying on the floor, but on her desk! The quakes he felt had been her mere STEPS! For as unbelievable as the situation was, partly because it reminded him of a movie from his childhood that he had dismissed as sci-fi… the creaking of his secretary’s swivel chair made him aware of just how quickly she had gotten very close. As well as the danger of someone that drunk moving with all that weight and force, compared to someone of his size! He still couldn’t think, not properly or with intent, his only thoughts were born out of instincts running rampant within him! Shouting at him to flee, to run and seek safety from the immense creature! Especially as her arms rose from behind the edge of the desk and high above him, hovering like clouds before dropping onto the massive furniture, rocking the Mayor with their impacts!

By the time he had regained his balance from the poorly synchronized arms crashing closely around him like a cage, he noticed that the lightless office had grown very dark very quick. Maybe it was a sixth sense or divine intervention or just comical timing, but something caused him to turn around and look upwards. Allowing his mind to permanently burn the image of his massive secretary’s face as it fell towards him with closed eyes and a dopey-looking open smile, before everything went completely dark… and very foul.

If his mind had been hesitant to properly process his previous situation as shrunken in his own office, then it was nothing to the utter denial that soon followed. The smells and sounds, the humid air and the frightening mix of soft and hard surfaces covered in slimy liquids… it couldn’t be real. It couldn’t happen! He couldn’t possibly be in his dear secretary; dear Isabelle’s mouth! He chuckled, feeling a sense of madness drape itself over his ability to reason and think logically, but quickly choked on the attempt. The canine’s breath was indeed nothing to scoff at! He couldn’t see anything, and his eyes did not grow accustomed to the dark quick enough! Forcing him to rely on his other senses… and they all betrayed him!

Artificial cheese, dissolved and approaching staleness from the many hours since their delivery… chilled by her every sip only to be re-heated by her body warmth! The almost plastic substance already reeking like bad lactose… enhanced further by the hastily chewed burger patty, which’s remains no doubt dotted the spaces and crevices of her teeth as much as his! Infused with liquid garlic, pepper, chili and other spices in quantities overwhelming for someone his size! Along with that sickening sweetness from the bargain-box of unsold Halloween Candy, one that almost stung in his nose worse than the spices, sending a sharp spike of discomfort up his skull. All of it simmering in a strong scent of various types of alcohol… he had never really considered just how absurd an idea alcohol was; fermenting fruit or sugar or grain… but this up-close to a wild intake of their makeshift bar’s best offers… he truly realized the near-rotting process that went into it all. The stench was potently pungent! Reminding him of the puddles of unidentifiable ooze one often found by his collage’s parking lots after weekends! Festering in the moist summer heat…

His own guts quickly betrayed him. If he hadn’t felt like hurling himself before he certainly acquired the urge quickly! Time and time again his stomach cramped, forcing him to dry-heave and take furtherly unpleasant gasps of the foul air… he could TASTE it! The taste of party-vomit coaxed his tongue already, and he hadn’t even drained his guts yet! He felt his eyes tearing up. What had he eaten or drank that prevented him from emptying his own foulness?! It certainly wasn’t a mental block that prevented him from throwing up inside Isabelle’s mouth! He WANTED to get it over with… but something denied him.

After what felt like an eternity of honestly attempting to orally eject his own organs, the pulsating cramps finally died out. Chipping for air, his eyes blinded by tears and his body aching and straining… his entire state of being corrupted by an overwhelming sense of illness. He had never felt more sick in his life. The stench of his secretary’s morning breath just wouldn’t go away! It was already making his head spin and ache all the more! The sheer concentration of alcohol in her breath was sickening and dizzying, along with the unholy blend of ingredients never meant to mix affecting his ability to breathe properly. At first attempting to lean against something for support, causing his hand to slip against the sloping tongue and make him faceplant it, he instead settled for curling up on the lowest point of his cell… realizing he was still technically on the table!

Doing his best to focus on the sounds of Isabelle’s breathing, if not for his survival then to take his mind off how horrifically that same breathing smelled, he soon got a clear picture of her position. She must had fallen asleep mouth-open and face-planted on the table. Her soft, rounded canine face allowing her to sleep comfortably face-down, even if it sounded like it put a strain on her breathing… which was when he realized it. She slept with her mouth pressed against the table! She could only breathe through her nose, which was the draft he could hear from above! The fresh office air never passed through her mouth, but instead going directly down her windpipes at the far back of her throat! Her breath would not ventilate out! He was locked in a still room that provided all the heat and moisture that the sludge, goop, strands and liquids needed to fester and stale!!

Overcome with an urge to escape, the Mayor began to frantically look around for anything to help him do so! Spending a good few seconds in half-insane logic by looking for something to pry the giantess’ mouth open, before remembering his location and shifting perspective. HE would never be able to open her mouth, even if he had some miraculously misplaced toothpick or something to attempt it. Only SHE could open her mouth! He had to get her to do it on her own if he’d want to escape the hot and humid hellhole he was trapped in!
Considering his options, kneeling on the small surface of treated wood between the two rows of frontal teeth and smushed lips, he began to prod and poke with his fingers. Examining the nooks, crannies, crevices, bumps and far more sludge than he could ever wish for… his fingers quickly covered in thick greasy substances that had previously been locked to his secretary’s teeth and un-licked crawlspaces. Shuddering and biting down hard, trying to prevent another rush of dry-heaves, the Mayor scraped his hands against the edges of his jailor’s teeth to try and rid himself of the foul goop. With mixed results in terms of cleanliness, uncertain to if it was his imagination or not that caused the stench to worsen by his rummaging in the swampy substances.

Eventually he decided on a solution, managing to stand back up after a few wobbly attempts. Having to actually combat his wooziness from the alcoholic stench by muddying his hands once more, climbing her teeth with his hands like a supportive ladder… a ladder elevated from the depths of a seedy bar’s compost, but a ladder nonetheless. Once up once more, he aimed as carefully as his lack of sight, borderline gas-drugged and drunk mind would allow him… before kicking with all his might using his heel! Pinching the inside of Isabelle’s lower lip against the sharp edge of her teeth, effectively stimulating her having bitten herself! The response was immediate, though not what the Mayor had oh-so naively hoped for. A frustrated groan echoed around him. The table-kissing and open mouth proving to be an efficient resonance box, causing what must sound muffled on the outside to batter his eardrums harshly with powerful vibrations.

Dazed by both the force of the audible assault as well as the vibration-born vortex that shuffled the stale state of stenches into an awakened monster of gas, the Mayor found no time to rest as the room itself shifted! His soaked feet felt the comparably chilly office-air for a hope-raising moment as Isabelle’s head tilted to the side, but as her heavy lips- seemingly cramping together in response to the pain- locked them in place? It was only so long he could maintain his already crap balance before falling in the same direction as her head. Landing uncomfortable on the two long rows of chewing teeth and canines that had become both a floor and a filter, preventing him from fully laying on her cheek beneath. For a moment he was thankful that he had not struck his head against the fist/feet-sized pearls, but angrily considered that even if he had, their slimy coating might be thick enough to dampen the impact…

The Mayor did not have time to grudge and groan for long, however. His secretary was not done shifting just yet! Her tongue, which had been locked to the floor of her mouth, began to relax and threaten to lock the Mayor in his potentially dangerous position between her canines! But as it relaxed so too did her jaws and lips, loosening her grip of his feet and widening his movement space. Allowing the unthinking and panicking Mayor to quickly heave himself forward, pushing his shoulder and head against the slimy surface of the tongue-turned-wall, but managing to get up onto his feet! Frightened by the possibility of her teeth clamping down on each other, he quickly adjusted his position so that his back leaned against the plush and sludge-covered tongue. His feet both using her upper row of teeth as a platform, wedged between the slippery and smooth pearls. It took him great effort to manage his new-found stance. The tongue was as heavy to push back as it was revolting to be close to. Instincts drove him close to madness, not knowing what the semi-solids that snailed across the dripping surface was, even as they began to awkwardly travel across him as well… but in the darkness, he could only feel and smell the layers.

His fingers were thin enough to not just feel it all accurately, but to dig through the mud-like layers. Locked in the depths of the putrid filth; his fingers spread out between the small taste buds of the tongue’s surface, he felt what could only be described as grease. Same texture as pure lard. Thick, slippery, oily and unnatural… covering the knotty tongue like a layer of moss, rooted like his fingers amongst the bulbs. Leaking a raw and familiar scent of oral uncleanliness whenever disturbed... Above that, the layer that continued to seep into his clothing, that had a syrup-like texture and alcoholic sweetness to its smell. He assumed it had originated from one of the bottles, and had since long expired or been poorly sealed. It smelled like it had fermented poorly, or too much… like rotting sugar… and worryingly enough it was too thick and alcoholic to properly merge with the greasy substance beneath! Even acting like an oiled surface for the much more liquid saliva to slide across, easily reaching and drenching the Mayor with its carried contents…

As time passed, the Mayor became more and more out of breath. Not only from his taxing task of pushing the tongue back at the cost of submerging himself further and further into the levels of pungent and puss-like corruption that covered it, but also from the lacking levels of oxygen. It never became so little that he had troubles breathing, but it was always low enough to make him aware of it. The once-more unmoving mouth had resulting in the air within quickly growing stale yet again, though he hesitated to call what he breathed “air”… it was more of a plasma. Thick, gas-like, tinted green or maybe that was his mind playing tricks on him… and possessing a burning nature. His eyes had begun to sting and water up badly from him just trying to get them used to the darkness. His nose felt like it was cramping, sore and tense and growing more sensitive by the moment. His lungs protesting what he filled them with, as if the garlic and chili and alcohol contained in the canine’s morning breath were disposed straight into them…

He felt like he might be dying. Considered if he were! For all he knew, he was on the border of it… and if he wanted to survive, he needed proper air! Which made the nearby torrent of it all the more frustrating… he could HEAR fresh air coursing by just a few feet (to him) to the side. Isabelle was sleeping soundly, calmly breathing deeply through her nose. All that fresh, clean and ventilation-filtered office-air was just an arm’s reach away… but it required a risk he was uncertain to if he was willing to take. As he stood, he was safe. At least safer than before! Was putting that safety up for gamble worth it just for fresh air? He hurt, he ached, he was being tortured… but still safe! Isabelle had not moved for what must have been… what? Half an hour? A whole hour? It was impossible to tell time in there… But then again, how long could he manage this position before his legs or awareness gave up on him? What would happen then? How well could he resist or adapt to it in such a state? Maybe it was-

Deep in thought, he had not noticed the friendly lump of extra-everything-burger that had slipped from the cheek above and slowly snailed its way across the tongue and onto his slime-covered head. Only as it painfully draped itself over one of his eyes, snapping him back into reality with a burning sensation on his peeper and a potent waft of luke-warm and stale meat! He let out a rather primal roar in anger, hatred and agony as it happened, following up with primitive flailing of his head and one of his hands. Attempting in vain to wipe his face free of the corrosive corruption, only to smear himself with the revolting substance his fingers had simmered in. His sensitive and tortured nose cried out with agony, his long-teased and tormented guts cramped once more. It was as if the stench had found a shortcut through his nose and straight to his stomach, upsetting it much like a virus or sickness would. The painful cramps caused his knees to shake…

On the edge of losing balance and give in to the urge of curling up once more, the half-blinded Mayor made a rash decision. If he had to fall down once more, at least he would do so close to fresh air! With his teeth bit tightly shut, his throat cramped and his breath involuntarily held, he threw himself alongside the already shifting tongue, seeking the end of it where fresh air shifted! At the far depths of his mind, logic had taken into account that -something- might go wrong… not according to plan… but the possibility of -everything- going differently had never been part of preparations. The tongue, which he had struggled so hard with to keep in place as to not get smushed by it, did not topple over like a mattress, as he had expected it to. Instead, it almost POURED down beneath him! Acting with as slimly properties as the sludge that covered it! All whilst being accompanied by the sound of rusty machinery coming to life… no, it was… teeth scraping against each other! Swooped up by the tongue he sought to escape as it lolled beneath him the moment he let go of it, he landed face-first and deep in the gut-wrenching substance that coaxed it, he blacked out…

For how long he was unconscious, he did not know. Not long. His body and mind showed no signs of having acquired any rest. Pushing himself up and semi-free from the greasy filth- deep enough to coat his laying form from chest to armpit, he coughed and spurted violently. Gasping desperately for air. His mouth tasted foul… but he recognized the taste. Vomit. He couldn’t remember if HE had vomited, or if he had just blacked out from the intimate dip in the stench and had his mouth filled with it… whether the case, he ended up dry-heaving for a few minutes as the realization came over him. But like before, his guts would not offer him anything but a sensation of pain and sickness, which did not help answering which of the situations that had happened…

Eventually, his body calmed down once more. Allowing him to think and attempt something similar to focusing again. Slowly remembering how he had ended up in his new-found position, he attempted to crawl towards the nearby source of clean air… he could still hear it. Only then realizing how much had actually changed since he leapt. The memory of scraping teeth soon returned to him, dawning upon the Mayor the reality of his situation. Without him acting like a locking length to urge Isabelle from closing her mouth, her jaws had shut and her tongue relaxed. The thin and malleable organ had easily laid itself atop the teeth as they closed, becoming his revolting mattress as the room shrunk around him. The canine’s mouth was longer than it was tall, like a tube that had just tightened… he was stuck in a pipe, partly submerged in a swamp!

However tired, exhausted and close to tears he was, his body surged with panic once more. Whimpering, he began to crawl to the best of his ability. Wiggling and wringing against the slick and slippery surfaces that surrounded him, leaked upon him... pressing his arm between the area where roof and tongue met tightly, utilizing the thick greasy layers to his advantage to force it through… and there! He felt it! The sensation might as well have been going from a sauna and into an icy bath, the difference between Isabelle’s hot and unmoving breath to that of the coursing outside air was just that powerful! He could feel it! In deep, long gusts of wind it blew across the tip of his fingers, filling him with hope and promises! Now he just had to… had to…

After minutes of attempting it, he laid down and began to relax. Defeated and surrendering. Where the tongue had arched at the back of Isabelle’s throat to make breathing easier? It was just too tight for him to pass through. For as soft and slimy as the slippery thing was… it was still a muscle equal in size to his entire body. All his struggles had resulting in nothing but him covering his head and face to the point of total blindness in the liquid manifestation of his secretary’s morning breath of the dead… His eyes burned, even though they were closed. His nose felt like it was imploding, despite him having not used it since he awoke. His mouth produced unnatural amounts of saliva in attempt to clean itself out, only to make the foul traces within liquid-like and sloshy. The Mayor gave up. Out of energy and out of hope, all he could do was try and get some sleep and wait for Isabelle to awaken as well…

But sleep would not come easy. It was only when he attempted to relax that other aspects dawned on him. Sensations, sounds and smells he had been ignorant to in his stressed state. The tongue itself had much more of a pulse than he had previously given it credit for. It, along with the rest of Isabelle, created a constantly repeating boom and vibration, as blood shot through her veins. Her breathing could be traced far down into her body, where her lungs wheezed and whined- borderline whistled, with rapid air-filtration. At times, her tongue itself would give him a squeeze or pat, often as response or ignition to Isabelle’s dreaming mumbling sounds. She was apparently an active dreamer… for she would often move her body, sending harsh vibrations that gave the Mayor hope of release each time… only to be harshly disappointed. Every time his awareness began to drift, something shifted, pulsated, boomed, wheezed, vibrated, shook, slurped, moaned, groaned, glorped, gurgled or giggled… refusing him to escape the stench and sludge for even a moment…

However long he was trapped in a limbo-like state of borderline sleep and hazy, reeking torment, he didn’t know. His exhausted, desperate mind- on the edge of snapping into madness, could not process time properly. The seconds were like the partly dissolved, spongy pieces of bread; impossible to grasp or hold, but seemed keen on lingering and pester him. The minutes like the saliva. Both burning slight and pouring over him as they seemingly materialized from no-where, as well as pooling around him. Refusing to leave him and pass on. Nothing would give his solace. Not even his relaxed state. It allowed him to breathe more slowly and steadily, instead of rapidly gasping and filling his lungs with his secretary’s morning breath quickly… but instead, or forced him to savour the scent and smell as he drew breath from the gas-like moisture manifested from the body-heated leftovers and dead bacteria around him.

Maybe it was his exhausted mind clinging to anything it could… maybe he had developed some sense of Stockholm Syndrome… or maybe it was something deeper and unexplored than that. But there were moments, just as his awareness began to drift, that he experienced bliss… before something stirred him and returned him to full consciousness once more. He caught himself repeatably thinking that the warm embrace of the tongue wouldn’t be so bad if not for the revolting sludge. There were many times he realized that he had synchronized his own breathing to that of Isabelle, and that it made him feel part of her. Even her heartbeats had a lulling effect on him, providing faint momentum through her body that resulted in her rocking him slightly… similarly to the rocking of a boat or train, only softer and more careful. He even had to force out a thought of his head, as he dreaded letting it stay and how it would affect him in the future… but he once considered that the whole experience wouldn’t be bad, if only Isabelle had brushed and rinsed…

Eventually, after hours in limbo… trapped both in his own warping mind and the twisted tightness of the canine’s mouth… movement. Not just a movement either, but several. With increasingly brief intervals! She was slowly stirring! Slowly awakening! And whilst the process was far from pleasant, as Isabelle kept shifting and rolling her head from side to side… shaking her captured boss in the preserved and festering sludge and slime of her post-party breadbox… it filled the ragdoll-like Mayor with hope. He wasn’t able to call for her, as opening his mouth for anything more than brief sips of air through the tumbling in her maw would be a breakfast he’d never ask for. But it was still a metaphorical light at the end of the tunnel!

But after an unknown time and numerous tilts and turns, the Mayor could feel how her mouth slowly warped to its intended position. Her tongue, against which he laid plastered, slowly settled flat and dandy between her lower teeth. Sitting up or not, she had raised her head to its natural angle! And then… the literal light at the end of the tunnel came coursing in! The Mayor shivered, both from the chilly sensation of cold, crisp air brushing over him, as well as having that fresh air filling his nose and lungs. Driving him to tears over simply being allowed to sample it once more, to be free of the torment at last! He looked over his shoulder, his eyes burned with the brightness that seeped both through the office window and her separated rows of frontal teeth. He let out a gasping laughter, unable to do anything else. He just wanted to cry. He was happy, thankful. Slowly mustering what little effort he still possessed, attempting to elevate himself from the sticky foulness that had completely drenched his clothes, he froze in fear.

With the mouth wide-open and facing the rising sun, his night-time jailcell suddenly lit up. Flashing him its every detail. Besides the thick greasy layers coaxing the teeth, not to mention their jagged predatory shapes and sharpness, he found himself staring into the abyss. He laid on her long tongue, his one arm still reaching towards where he had felt the current of air before. But he had never realized that his hand had been left to hover not because of the tongue’s angle, but the tongue’s END… it simply arched rapidly and lead like a devil’s pathway straight down into the darkness. The whole night, he had been naught but a few feet from ending up swallowed… hell, he had even given it his all to CRAWL there by his own free will!
More so on frightened reaction than calculated action, the Mayor quickly tried to grasp something. Anything! Especially as he felt a shift in the balance once more! Her head kept moving, her jaw continuing to lower itself, threatening to drop him the unknown distance down onto the hard wooden desk! But as quickly as it began to tilt, it stopped. Everything stopped. The fresh draft had vanished as well, causing the Mayor to raise his head in confusion and disgust as the smell began to slowly establish itself again… but then it came. A deep, guttural and primal groan with only the faintest traces of femininity to it erupted from the depths of the dark pit before him. Riding along it was what he could only describe as a powerful gust of concentrated, undiluted morning breath. It almost caused him to black out once more as it forced itself upon his senses. It was the same stench as what he had bathed in all night… but not only had he been offered a brief moment of purity to heighten the contrast, it was also a far more “aged” breed. One that, akin to alcohol, had been given faint doses of fresh oxygen all night to grow and fester into a superior potency…

For several seconds, his otherwise so petite, gentle-natured and kind secretary displayed a side of herself that, no doubt, previously had been a secret to anyone outside her bedroom plushies. A wide, moist and positively steaming yawn that could no doubt irradiate any unfortunate bird to cross the path of her breath to death. The slow yet powerful and constant wind that twisted and funnelled through her mouth, coursing around her captive and her canines, coaxed everything in a thick moisture… the physical essence of her throat-casketed morning breath. The Mayor found himself dumbfounded and stunned. Staring down her expending throat with wide eyes, despite the burning sensation that rapidly grew in intensity across them. His body refused him the ability to breathe. Be it the fear or the borderline toxic air, or maybe because sampling it any further would cause his organs to fully implode once and for all… but his attempts at drawing breath resulted in naught but a tight sensation in his throat and a twitching within his chest.

Finally, the yawn began to die out. As the potency of stench and wind grew weaker, so too did her jam muscles. Causing the light to quickly slim down into a few select rays that could seep through her lips and teeth. The Mayor slowly began to breathe again, wheezing painfully, believing the worst to be over… when the lights were fully cut once more. Isabelle’s tongue, which had laid lifeless for so long, awoke alongside her! The tip seeking the roof of the mouth, bending beneath the Mayor and causing him to unwillingly slip slightly closer to the abyssal hole before him! His lungs still aching, still craving efficient fuel, betrayed him as he tried to scream. It only made him cough harshly, painfully, even as he felt the tongue start to roll! Akin to the wave-like movement of a caterpillar, the rest of the tongue sought to slowly join its tip at the roof of the mouth. The arch rapidly shifted further down the flat length of the canine tongue, sliding and scooping and pushing her captive unceremoniously fast towards the deep slope and-

Without a thought, the half-sleeping canine swallowed gently. It was a tired, lazy gulp. More annoyed than passionate, like when one downs the last piece of dry chicken at grandmother’s Christmas dinner after suffering through it for hours. The motion was unthinking and routine. Pushing the Mayor head-first down her steep slope of a throat and almost snapping his knees as she fully pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, rolling her throat’s muscles across his inserted form with a soundless gulp… dragging him down the same slimy path that an unknown amount of unknown shots had passed through mere hours ago. Like another bite of her burgers or another piece of candy… gone without hesitation or thought. Just part of the party.

The Mayor once more found himself in a state of paralyzed denial, as he was forced to shut his eyes and hold his already oxygen-craving lungs. The path downwards was easy on him, as he kept slipping and sliding even during those brief pauses when the cramped and fleshy walls didn’t ripple across him. But it was still slick and moist to the point of almost drowning him from a lack of space. The space between head and shoulders kept a constant pocket that were at all times filled with both the rich pools of saliva that had joined him, along with whatever liquids lubed his transference canal. The path through his short canine secretary couldn’t have been more than maybe half a minute, but from having already struggled so with breathing prior to the big gulp, he had almost passed out by the time his head poked through a snake-like coil that drained his accompanying pool.

Awakening with a jolt as his face touched air once more, he drew as much of it into his mouth and lungs as he could! Feeling his throat strain against the cramping flesh that separated his head from the rest of his body, which was still under the macabre massage of his predator. And this time, it finally was the nail in the coffin. The air was, for all intents and purposes, plasma-like. As if vomit had been super-heated into a semi-gassy form, presented to the Mayor for intake. His mind blacked out once more, as his entire body kept being rhythmically crushed like the milked udder of a cow, squeezing the contents of his own stomach out of him and into his secretary’s…

For how long he had been unconscious this time, he didn’t know. He couldn’t even begin to guess as he slowly came to. Almost fully submerged in a deep pool of thick, intoxicative, digestive and semi-chunky vomit. Warm like a hot bath, burning on his skin like a full and unprotected day in the sun. The sensation was akin to both a thermal blanket and a sauna at once. Warm to the point of almost scolding, causing his skin to blush and redden, forcing him to relax and dulling his mind. It took him minutes to adapt his groggy eyes, but after a while he could finally start making out vague details about the stomach itself. It was, compared to him, no bigger than a regular car. And even that was by a generous estimation, since it had to be stretched out some by the massive amounts of liquified leftovers and liquor…

His own throat burned, but it was a familiar burn. His guts still shifted and coiled as if replaced by mating serpents. His nose had all but been burnt out, as he couldn’t register the smells much anymore. Sadly, his tongue still worked. Every breath he drew refilled his mouth with the taste of vomit. The sensation had originally been his own, but now it was hers. It was so intimately around him that he couldn’t even avoid tasting it even by doing nothing but breathe…

Moving his hands, despite the aching please of his arms to avoid doing so, he shivered at the feedback from his fingers. Unlike in her mouth, there were no soggy scraps or traces of bread… it had all been perfectly dissolved and diluted into the rest of the soup. At times he would scrape against something that felt semi-solid, he guessed it to be a piece of meat from the burgers, but his mere touch caused them to crumb and dissolve as well. His own clothes had already begun to smelt as well. The thin fabric had turned even thinner across his chest and back from being submerged for an unknown amount of time. The realization that he might end up just as jelly-like and easily broken apart as those pieces of theoretical burger…? It caused him to weakly whimper, as he couldn’t muster any more water to his gas-blinded eyes than he already did…

It was only when he began to register movement from his host that his self-loathing seized. She was on the move, clearly walking somewhere. If it was still the day after the party, which was likely from the contents of her stomach, she was probably heading home or at the very least into town. It was a Saturday, after all. Maybe, at least… and for minutes, her thankfully slow and careful movements- no doubt an affect of her own hungover state, she kept slowly walking down what must be the main street from the office. At times the Mayor would hear distant and muffled voices from by-passers and villagers, but his own voice couldn’t possibly reach them…

After another few minutes, she finally settled down. From the abrupt impact, he guess she was sitting somewhere to rest. The idea of her being on a toilet frightened him further, as he couldn’t help but envision his own partly dissolved skull poking out of a fresh log, hidden under a layer of paper and forever unnoticed… before being washed away. They would notice that he was gone, no doubt… but, would they search for him? Especially now that all his debts were paid off? Wouldn’t they most likely round it up to him escaping town the moment he had no obligations outside his job in it? Was he really about to become digested by a girl he had flirted with several times? And later have that same girl forever remember him with hatred for dumping her and the town in one fell swoop like a- was that soda…?

Isabelle, upon awakening in the office bathroom with her skirt by her ankles, had not had many thoughts in her head outside of regretful ones. Her own headache, upset stomach and aching body spoke of lots of drinking, lots of eating and lots of dancing… all things she was not well suited for… she also had flashing images of not just flashing- but also KISSING her boss! Which brought no end of shame to her (very) slowly sobering state. After draining all the water the alcohol had forced out of her body, she held her face beneath the filled surface of the sink for a long time. Letting the icy cold office water seep its chilly temperature through her fur and skin. Raising her head and gasping for air, she quickly shook her noggin free of most moisture and used a towel for the rest. Thankfully, she had a brush in her desk to fix herself up slightly…

She was used to handle headaches, always carrying a tube of chewable against it in her purse. So after crushing two of the bitter, battered and powdery pellets, she eased it down with a glass of water. After checking through the office to make sure no-one had pulled an “all-nighter” like herself, she gathered most of the trash and brought it with her outside as she left and locked up. Her stomach ached badly, feeling gorged and distended. She muttered something about feeling old at the lack of her childhood metabolism, as she had once won her school’s taco-eating contest. But she also remembered feeling similarly bad afterwards, so maybe she just never had a quick and effective stomach to begin with… either way, she remembered the only thing that had eased her stomach. Fizzy Soda! Carbonated drinks usually helped kick her systems into higher gear…

After throwing the trash away, she slowly and carefully walked down the road into the village. Mostly as her balance was still a little out of whack, and out there she had few things to lean against or hold onto should she wobble. But with some effort, she soon managed her way into town and even keep up a polite exterior to not just the villagers, but even the cashier as she ordered a medium cola with fries. Hoping to replenish some salt whilst she was at it, then she’d go home and get to work on refilling herself with water! Her order came through quickly, as it was nothing complicated or even needing much preparation. The fries had been on heating for a little while, but the smell was still salty and fatty and divine! And whilst she preferred drinks without carbonation as it tickled her throat, it did feel good on her unusually sore throat…

For a good while, she just sat there. Or, rather, tiredly hung across the table and slowly enjoyed her diet-crushing brunch. She called the Mayor several times, wanting to know he got home properly and safely… as well as if he had the same fractured memories of the night prior as her… but he never picked up. Making her more and more worried as time slowly passed. Maybe he had gotten sick? Many of those bottles were mostly meant for fun, but they had ended up draining all of them. No matter size or colour… she hoped he didn’t have any allergies she wasn’t aware of. But as her stomach began to only feel more and more bloated from the drink, she groaned and decided to head home. Standing up and slowly arching backwards, stretching her spine and chest and stomach in one fell swoop, she felt a great rumble in her core. Unable to withhold it, she could only obey her instincts and spread her jaw as the biggest belch in her life thundered out of her! Leaving quite the blush on her cheeks, a stench in the air and a small-…

Isabelle slammed her door shut behind her as she rushed through her small house and into the bathroom. Quickly throwing her purse onto her neatly made bed with one hand, still holding the tiny and almost fully dissolved shirt in her other with a cramped grip. She recognized that shirt. She knew who had bought it and for whom. She knew who always wore it at the office to make her happy… what she DIDN’T know was how it ended up tiny and inside her stomach, but fear over why she couldn’t reach the owner of the shirt filled her mind with horrific theories and images. Ripping her bathroom cabinet open with such force that the mirrored door cracked upon hitting the wall behind it, she quickly reached for her toothbrush. She had never been the prettiest of girl, when compared to those in the big-city magazines that she had subscribed to as a pup… but if the content of those rumour-oriented papers could ever be of use, it’d be now!
Harshly, she jabbed the rounded grip of her toothbrush down her throat. Painfully so, causing her to gag and cough and her eyes to water up. Again and again she repeated the motion, fear rising within her for each failed attempt, until she finally hit a sweet-spot and managed to steady her hand. Locking the smooth plastic and rubber against her tonsil, until a wave of alertness and displeasure washed over her… through her, and up her throat… Just about the entire content of yesterday’s party erupted from her petite face in a harsh and jetting current. Striking the floor of her bathroom with enough force to splatter widely. And despite her mind’s best attempt to NOT think and just blank out in the process, Isabelle forced herself to analyse the contents that coursed through her to the best of her ability. Soft, soft, slimy, soft, lots of liquid, soft, slimy, soft, so- her body rocked and shook with both pain and displeasure, as something large and solid forced its way out of her stomach!

Plugging her like a swallowed cork, causing her to heave and heave and heave to slowly urge the unknown object further and further up her throat… until she could finally and literally feel it bulge out her throat and with both surprising speed and slowness at the same time, something passed across her tongue and onto the vomit-covered floor inches beneath it. Isabelle’s eyes were too filled with tears for her to properly see what it was, but she recognized the unique colour of it… there was only one person in the village with- well, to say “skin like that” would be an understatement, as most members had scales or fur or leather… but you get the point…

Forcing the tears out of her face and her awareness back into her mind, she laid doubtful and frightened eyes upon the shrunken Mayor. Laying like a sea-star- splayed out in a wide puddle of reeking and roiling ooze, and just about as pinkish red as one to boot… was the human who had done so much for the community. She wheezed, trying to call out for him, but she couldn’t do anything but chip and gasp for breath and try to still the emotions that boiled within her. Fear, guilt, anger, sorrow… the idea of what had happened and furthermore almost DID happen caused her eyes to water up again quickly, as she slowly cupped her hands beneath the calmly breathing and still figure. Bringing him close to her face. He seemed dazed and sick, powerless and woozy, but alive and breathing.

“I- I am So sorry! I didn’t- I don’t even know HOW or-or-or WHEN! I- Oh mister Mayor… please don’t fire…” Isabelle cried heavily upon the small human in her hands, having already been close to lose him once and dreading the thought of losing him again… of being unable to work, talk and flirt with him again… The Mayor, himself, who laid in her warm embrace and mostly felt thankful for being alive and that his stunt with the shirt had worked… looked to his secretary’s moving face. Maybe it was the hours of lacking oxygen, maybe it was the rush of survival, maybe his own affection for the puppy-girl… but he couldn’t help but whisper her name, smile softly and give her a reassuring thumb’s-up. For the moment, he had no thoughts on how to get back to normal. He was just happy to be back with her… back OUT of her!

FIN