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Silas sat back along the pillow and had to scramble to keep from rolling off, proving yet another difficulty of having taken on such a diminutive stature: the simple fold in the center of the surface where the fabric pinched down underneath one of those decorative buttons provided a dangerous pitfall for him at times, especially with the night having progressed this far. The small wolf-dragon - tiny pushed it too far: if he stood up straight next to someone's paw, in most cases he would stand the distance from fingertip to wrist - glanced over to the hardcover book resting on the far side of the pillow, his own weight too low to risk toppling it and the shot glass of rich burgundy-red wine sitting on top.

The level in the glass had gone down a bit since Nem had first poured it for him, but unaccustomed to this size as he was, it still struck him as strange to think that the shot glass looked roughly the same proportion to his current body as one of those big wine bottles would look to someone who hadn't shrunk down. He swung his head around the other way, vaguely feeling the distant slosh of an early buzz, towards where the much larger silver fox sat... or, at least, the much more regular sized vixen, with her own wineglass clutched tenderly across her fingers. She tilted it back and took another sip probably equal in volume to all of Silas's own across the night summed up, then swished the ruby liquid around within her mouth so that first one cheek pouched out and then the other, and then swallowed it down, slender throat pulsing with the movement.

Then she caught his eye, slim muzzle still angled toward the TV for a moment longer. The vixen smiled and tilted her head, ears swinging gently. "What's up, pup?"

Silas thought about it for a moment. He reached over for his shot glass, sighed, stood up, wobbled within the plush surface of the pillow, and leaned over to lap unceremoniously at the surface. The rich, heady aroma of the booze wafted up around him, for a moment making him feel as though he had taken in much more than he actually had. "Not much," he answered a moment later, wiping the back of his wrist across his mouth. "Chillin'. Feeling good. You?"

"Same. Same." Nem nodded slowly, wine in her glass sloshing. "Getting there, a little bit."

"Yeah. Likewise."

Again she looked down at him, pale ice-colored eyes briefly flashing down across his slender body. That was another part of taking on this stature: nobody made clothes for someone barely six inches tall. "There's doll clothes," Nem had said right after the change, _"but I can tell you from experience that those suck shit. Wouldn't recommend to my worst enemies."_So instead he had just gone without, spending the obligatory three to six minutes clambering out of the labyrinth of clothing suddenly far too large for him, then stepping out into the relative chill of the house completely naked yet with mathematically less bare fur revealed.

It was a new experience for him - usually Nem was the one to take this position - and he thought he might even look better while small. Something about the way the much more distant lights in the ceiling fan overhead cast down across him, dancing across stone- and cement-colored fur, catching in the mane-like ruff caressing down over his shoulders and amid his flat chest. He had requested that the vixen lift him up to the bathroom counter so he could look at himself in the mirror, going through the usual giggling wonder at "wow look you could fit me inside this bottle of lotion" and "I could use this bar of soap for the rest of my natural life" and "holy shit my favorite dildo is finally the size I've always wanted it", then paused to run his little paws over his little body. Down his smooth chest towards his sleek belly, then even further until his fingers spread around the slightly protruding point of his pink-fleshed lupine spade.

"Too bad this couldn't have stayed the same size,"_Silas had said with a smirk, spreading himself with his fingers. A warm gust of humid air puffed against him from behind, and he had shifted his gaze in the mirror to see Nem's muzzle lined up right behind him; her nose had been twitching, likely trying to find his diminutive scent on the air. _"Don't worry about that," the vixen had replied, mouth quirking into a smile, "since I've got one that'll work perfectly."

The thought had been on his mind since she had said it earlier in the night, and the wolf-dragon had no doubt that the same held true for Nem as well. She lifted her glass to her lips again but didn't take another sip, eyes flicking back over to the TV instead. At least one good thing about being this size, Silas thought, is that it's harder to tell when I'm worked up; looking down between his legs he could easily discern the slight swollen protrusion of his sex, filling up and pushing gently out at the meat of his inner thighs as well as glistening with gathered moisture along the succulent skin, but Nem likely wouldn't have been able to tell unless she had had him straddling her snout.

Which he had also thought about. There was just something about being here in the nude, knowing that he was so much smaller than her, knowing what it would feel like for her to squeeze him up inside of herself like she had kinda-sorta implied, Silas having been on that end of things so many times before. The sensation of a much smaller body squirming up and pressing out at his interior walls, tiny paws squishing into sensitive wet flesh, rings of buried muscle reflexively clenching and slurping around the smaller figure while his paws pressed them deeper - and then the sweet delight and relief afterwards of letting them naturally slip out of him, coated head to toe in the slickness of arousal and his musk... and now, finally, he would be able to see what that was like.

He swallowed again. As he leaned over to lap at his wine he rolled the sentence around in his head, trying to figure out how to word it, how to present it; his tail swished behind him, his ears flicked, his spade tingled. Then another thought hit him - hey, Nem, check out how easy it is to fit two fists inside of you...

Finally he cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder. "Hey Nem?"

She didn't look away from the TV. "Mm?"

"I was thinking, um, about what you said earlier..."

Still watching, her lips once more split into a sharp-toothed grin. "I thought so."

He turned to face her, bouncing nervously on his footpaws. "Since I know I'm usually the only doing the, uh, stuffing, but I've been thinking about it ever since, and-"

"You too, huh?"

"-I was just wondering if you had any thoughts or input, since usually it's you going into my... uh..."

What a strange, interesting, enticing thought that was. Like changing his perspective so that instead of standing on the ground looking up at the night sky, he was held against a great round ceiling by something like magnetism while looking out across the sea of stars far underneath him, now he looked up at the silver fox where she sat and really realized_that so many times before _she had been the small one, that she_had been the one shoved up inside of his sex, that _he had soaked _her_in his slime and slickness and scent so many times before. That muzzle, those lips, that tongue, all the way down to her tail and footpaws, nestled comfortably within slurping wet meat squeezing and sucking around her - and now he was the one standing on a pillow looking up at her relatively giant form.

"Yeah," Nem answered. She reached for the remote to turn the volume down. "Take a deep breath, whenever you can. Or don't, and use the same few lungfuls over and over. They just get danker and danker, you know. You wanna...?"

Before he knew what he was doing Silas had started nodding vigorously. "Yeah! Yeah, yeah. Do I..."

"You stay right there, is what you do." Beneath him his entire world shifted and swayed as the vixen pressed her paws into the couch cushions to stand up. The gust of stirred air nearly knocked him onto his rear. "First I gotta get undressed. Then I'll want to warm up a bit, if that's alright?"

Silas blinked, then nodded again. I guess I forget that not everybody has access to a toy-sized roommate they can press up inside of themselves whenever they want. "Yeah," he said, "yeah, sure, I'll... just..."

Back to him, Nem reached down and swiftly, smoothly slid her shirt up off her body, showing off the sleek lines of muscle threading down her lower back and disappearing along the base of her tail. From this angle Silas could see just barely up underneath where it protruded out of the seat of her pants, the little hook and button setup looping over the top pulling slightly, showing a tantalizing bit of shadow underneath; the vixen looked around, tossed her shirt to the side, and then in another smooth motion reached up around her back to fiddle with the hooks of her bra.

Normally the wolf-dragon would have offered to help out with this part, but there was the whole thing how the target stood probably four feet higher than his six-inch head. So he watched instead, wondering how it would feel like for that elastic to tug against his paws, trying to estimate if he would have enough strength in this body to keep them from snapping out against her arms. Nem managed it quite easily, clamped her arms against her chest to keep it from falling forward, then swept a paw in front and removed her bra as well, without letting him see. But she did look over her shoulder, though, a smirk evident in her bright eyes.

Then she moved over a little bit under the guise of tossing her bra aside too, widened her stance, pushed the coffee table forward a little bit, and with practice nonchalance began at the button and zipper of her fly. Silas's ears perked to the familiar sound; Nem reached back, popped the button of the strap over her tail, slid her thumbs in underneath the waistband, and then tugged her jeans down... as well as her panties at the same time. As her head and chest went down her tail came up, affording the smaller Silas a clear, unimpeded view of the underside of her tail where pale, snow-grey fur faded away to the soft, warm pink of bared skin, puckered together in towards her pert tailhole, then pulling forward just underneath that to the smooth, full mound of her spade, slightly slimmer, slightly sharper than his own for the vulpine-lupine difference.

This perspective was just now starting to set in too, as the vixen gave a more than tasteful wiggle and sway of her rump while stepping out of her jeans: from tip to base her sex looked like it would cover about half of his height right now. Like a goddamn body pillow, he thought, then felt himself grow even warmer with the idea. The thick, plump meat jiggled gently as she shook her rear, and for a moment Silas thought - expected - wanted her to just reach back, spread herself, and then sit right down on top of him. He even took in a deep breath as she had advised, squeezed his arms down to his sides for ease of entry, angled his muzzle upwards so he wouldn't get caught on any of those dense, wet folds, closed his eyes...

...and his world shook and swayed again as she lounged back on the couch beside him, this time with her head resting on the other arm and a leg hooked up across the back. Silas let his breath out and looked over, perfectly eye level with the fresh, glistening pink of her sex fully on display, then even more so when she ran her fingers across her lips, pressed gently in to the first knuckle, and spread out from inside.

Even from here his ears perked with the gentle _shluk_of wet flesh tugging apart from itself, thick strands of gooey slickness pulling in between, hanging down beneath their own weight, then breaking and slapping lightly across the sides of the vixen's fingers. She shivered, pressed them in further, let the pink lips of her sex squeeze shut around them, and for a moment dug around inside of herself, obviously straining to keep her legs from clamping down. Silas reached back to steady himself against the pillow in preparation to slide down off of it, bounced when his footpaws hit the cushion underneath him, and then padded forward towards her, staying out of the range of her gradually increasing urgency.

Up above Nem bit her lower lip and let a low shudder wrack her body. She peered down at the smaller wolf-dragon through eyes clouded in pleasure, gaze lingering on him as though imagining what she would do with him. He looked back and forth between her muzzle and her spade, eyeing the way she moved her fingers, tilted her paw, slid back to push and press at the protruding base, sinking back in until it pouched out around half-buried digits.

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Silas said, having to raise his voice to be heard over her panting and the rhythmic, wet slurping of velvety walls along tender fingers.

She just nodded, mouth held partially open, breath already coming and going in slightly shaky little bursts. Silas took another step closer, then to the side to get out of the way of the vixen's wrist angling down a bit, sliding in from the side: she kept both paws between her legs now, one with her fingers spread around the base of her spade holding the succulent swollen lips up and out while the other slurped around within, paired fingers coming up to nudge along the buried clit, sliding back down across silken folds, pressing gently up and holding deep.

As he came closer he could smell her, a light, airy kind of spice fluttering around in the air, yet surprisingly deep underneath. The more he drew of it, nostrils flaring, throat tickling, the more he felt_it wash around him and draw him closer: it filled his lungs and belly with a kind of cool heat, pungent yet smooth, acrid yet soft, enticing, arousing, _intoxicating.

One finger, two fingers, a third, plunging up into slick wet meat, plump spade lips shaping around them, jiggling as she worked at herself, tightened, and then relaxed, to draw them back out and smear that clinging wetness across her fur. Silas swallowed with his mouth agape, staring straight forward: this was quite a familiar view for him, yet never from such an angle and relative size as this. As he was now he could see every little wrinkle and fold, the little shivers and trembles and twitches of muscles reflexively stretching, pulling, tightening, relaxing; the shimmers of slick warmth and gathered wetness, the dampening in her pubic fur from sweat as well as the natural humidity of arousal; then inside each time she drew her fingers out and pressed back along the plump lips, folding them back, there was the buried point of her clit nestled among squeezing walls, then one puckered hole dripping with more of that leaking enjoyment, then another stretched wall, and beneath that...

Silas swallowed, reaching forward. His small paws mashed against the spread lips of Nem's sex like warm, proofed dough ready for kneading, the similarly warm, slightly greasy surface welling up in between his fingers, pressing out against his pads, leaving him slick and tingling. He sniffed and sniffed again, now inhaling nothing but her scent, hot and dank and heavy; in all his time thinking and fantasizing about what predicaments he could get into with his new size, and what it would be like to be wedged all six inches inside of Nem - in a way different from what he was used to - he hadn't considered the scent.

He drew in another breath, held it, felt it tickle at his lungs, then let it out in a shuddering sigh, at the same time slightly buckling at the knees beneath a wave of his own pleasure washing through him. He would smell like her for days, probably, fur soaked to the skin with the slickness of her arousal. Just thinking about it made him lean in closer, drawing one paw away from the lip of her spade to reach forward towards her clit, fingers easily slipping in between the folds of wet, silky-smooth skin, and feeling the immediate twitch and jerk from her nerves in response. The small wolf-dragon grinned, moved his other paw as well, huffed as Nem's swollen spade squished in against his body from the side, then closed his eyes, reached up -

-and felt himself squeezed again around the midsection and this time drawn back out of her, wet lips smearing across his body, flattening and matting his fur, pulling across his mouth and nose and giving him as intimate a taste of her as he could ever went. A great sensation of vertigo washed across him, with cool air brushing along his freshly-wet fur as he was swung upwards; when he found the ability to open his eyes again it was to look forward and a little bit down at the vixen's slim, shapely muzzle, eyes halfway lidded under a little bit of inebriation and a lot of arousal.

"Okay," she purred, breath puffing warmly out underneath him. For a moment Silas wondered how it would feel like to straddle that tongue of hers, to have it folding up between his legs and slurping and pressing at his own spade, until he shuddered and jerked and kicked and sprayed his peak out and down and- "I'm ready now."

Silas couldn't stop his tail from wagging. Her fingers squeezed along his body, tight yet still gentle; the touch at once frightened and exhilarated him.

"But," Nem went on, bringing him closer, "_you're_not..."

And then she gave him a wink, craned her head back, and stretched her jaws open. Silas's entire body tingled in the puff of hot, moist breath wafting up like steam from a swamp, then his fur seemed to pack in against his skin as she lowered him down into air so densely humid it might as well have been liquid. He kicked his legs a bit, squirmed, couldn't help but giggle in eager anticipation, and then shuddered all over again when her broad tongue folded up around him, squishing easily around his legs and rump, squeezing his tail in against his body, wrapping up along his chest and shoulders.

As her tongue climbed so too did her fingers until she held him gingerly at the shoulders, careful not to squeeze too hard. The wolf-dragon wrenched his eyes shut and tilted his head up and away from the puffs of dank, alcohol-laden breath, nerves firing off all across his system halfway between ticklish hypersensitivity and deep, delicious pleasure.

Right as he thought he was growing accustomed to it, though, it was gone, Nem's tongue slurping back down his body - making sure to flick between his thighs and sent another electric jitter arcing through him - and leaving him dripping in sticky slickness quickly cooling in the air. He opened his mouth to say something to her but felt the air pushed from his lungs as she tightened her grip on him again, soon followed by that same sense of vertigo. This time when he recovered his senses he found himself between her legs, smooth soft fur cresting up on either side; he looked up and around, once more caught sight of her thick, plump spade, then felt his heart skip a beat as she spread it open with her other paw.

"Just-" He lifted his head up. Two fingers on either side of her base, Nem lifted herself up and out, angling her hips, giving a slight push from inside so those wrinkled interior walls smooched up against each other... "Remember to - let me breathe-"

"Buddy." Nem's spade smacked as she let it squish back together, then spread it apart once more. "That's on you. Ready?"

Silas nodded, took a breath, then nodded again. He closed his eyes, realized he wanted to watch as he was pressed in, opened them again... and then promptly got his wish, as the vixen angled him in towards herself. He reflexively shied away from the encroaching wet pink, shivered as it kissed against his ears and forehead and snout, then exhaled a little as she began to squelch down around his muzzle. Then the pressure tightened on his shoulders, the slick warmth grew and spread... and suddenly he was feeling the natural twitches and clenches of her inner muscles, responding to the slow, gradual insertion, nerves pulsing, muscles twitching, silky-wet skin pulling, tightening, relaxing.

It was a strange sensation feeling the rest of the world suddenly cut off from him. For some reason Silas had expected to be able to hear Nem's gasps and grunts and moans, but as she pressed him deeper - his head squished up through the squeezing tunnel, slick pliant flesh mashing around him, pushing against his shoulders, trying to push him back out even as she pressed him deeper - there was only that wet slopping, the thick slurping, the heavy smacks and little coughs of caught air and heat.

Quickly he learned why she had advised that he take such a deep breath. All of the pressure mushing around his chest and pressing in at his belly led him to let some of that breath out through his nose, then draw it right back in... and once more it felt like taking a drag from the steam wafting off a fresh pot of thick, meaty stew, the latent humidity coating the inside of his nostrils and gathering in his throat. Even with his mouth closed he could still taste her, hot strands of liquid musk rolling across his tongue and back his throat; he breathed out again, coughed a little bit, then pulled that breath right back in, already able to feel the slight emptiness of the slightly-stale air laden so heavily with alcohol and musk.

Wedged firmly in place, wet warmth squeezing all around him, he squirmed - and felt Nem's insides tighten around him in response. Still she kept something of a grip on him, having shifted her paw so that her fingers clutched his ankles and she pressed him deeper with her palm, but now that grip tightened again to pull him back out. Sopping wet, smeared in clinging stickiness, his fur pulled in the other direction - that's right, he thought, I remember pissing out bits of fur for days after, the times we've switched places - and he felt his arms slurped up above his head, the vixen's spade trying to tug back against him, to squeeze him even deeper inside herself as she pulled him back.

Finally the cool touch of the air outside of her body grazed across him, sending a shiver up his back. He took a breath of that sweet, pure air, only lightly essence with the scent of aroused vulpine, and then - felt himself plunged right back in, this time faster, harder, deeper. He lifted his arms out and squished into her inner walls, feeling for the little lines of elastic muscle hidden behind, taking note of which places made her twitch and jerk and clench down around him.

Back and forth the vixen drew him, treating him just as he had expected and wanted: as a toy like any other. He squeezed his eyes shut but kept his mouth open, freely letting that gathered wetness dribble across his tongue and fill his mouth, each swallow slopping more down into his belly. He moved his head around to a more comfortable position, still feeling as though he had been plunged straight into warm, wet dough, everything squishing and squeezing and pressing back around him; every time he took a breath he tasted little more than Nem's scent and the lightness of the air that had already been in his lungs, just folding back in along itself with each trapped exhalation. One paw pressed out against her inner walls to allow himself a little bit of free space, while the other ran down his slick, soaked body, smearing this delicious wetness across his fur before digging down into himself.

The thought of it sent a shudder through him as much as the actual feeling - scooping Nem's dripping moisture up into his own spade, smearing it around him, pushing it deeper, slurping it in until he felt his muscles twitch and contract and squeeze it back out between his thighs. The larger vixen had shifted away from pumping his body inside of her and now instead just somewhat rhythmically clenched around him, these inner walls fitfully tightening up, clamping down, shaking back out, then jerking back into place again and again.

Silas closed his eyes - it wasn't like he could see much of anything anyway, wedged this far inside of her - and let his mouth hang open, panting in the humid, stale air, unsure if this slight dizziness was from the trickling lack of oxygen or rather from Nem's growing arousal towards her peak. He imagined that he could see her from outside, the vixen with one leg clamped down around the back of the couch, one paw squeezing across one of her rather fine breasts while the other worked vigorously at her spade here, pushing it in from on top, spreading around the protruding base, digging up in between plump lips, playing and dancing at her clit... occasionally the buried wolf-dragon caught a glimpse of light flashing in through these inner tunnels, but then the wet walls smacked shut again before he could reach for it.

He turned, buried his muzzle in the sticky warmth of her flesh, took in a breath so thick with the stuff that he coughed and spluttered instead, but still squirmed and shivered in deep delight. At this point Silas had no way to tell if the warm wetness dribbling between his thighs was Nem's or his own, but either way its presence just worked him up further: two fingers up to the first knuckle, then the second; then a third finger, and then his other paw coming down to fold his spade open. One of his legs began to kick - around him Nem shivered and tightened again - and then his other did the same, and it took focused, deliberate effort to keep his thighs spread.

His body jerked, then did so again, and in a struggle to pull in another breath he instead got a mouthful of Nem's rich, slick wetness, flooding his senses with her musk and flavor - which helped to more fire him over the edge instead of just push him there, the wolf-dragon's legs straining, his hips pumping, his tail lashing inside of her. He felt himself grind up against her just as those walls clamped back down around him, warm wetness spraying out of his spade - and into hers, he realized distantly, as the waves of pleasure pounded through him. It felt like he was stuck inside a marsh, every movement of his body causing his surroundings to slurp and suck away at him, pressure accentuating the sensations even further.

Then further, and further. For a quick moment his overflowing, all-encompassing sizzling pleasure flashed to concern and briefly panic - but then once again the world around him jostled, shook, trembled, then rushed up from behind him. This time the wet warmth seeped right through his fur and around his shoulders, wrapping around his body like so many tiny, tingling fingers: Silas felt himself pushed forward, slipping smoothly down through Nem's inner workings, her squeezing walls continuing to suck around him yet urging him along. Thick, dense sound in his ears, fervent heat, swampy wetness -

-and then suddenly swelling dizziness, bright light, and all of that sloshing, slurping, sucking gave way to the sound of the vixen's breathless moans and gasps as she squirted him out across the cushions of the couch, along quite an impressive spray of her peak raining down around him. Dizzy, confused, short on breath himself, for a moment Silas felt as though he were still spinning, then wiped his eyes and looked up again just in time to see Nem double forward over herself, footpaw slipping from around the back of the couch as another wave that peak pounded through her. She jerked upwards, gasped, clapped her legs together around her paw, shuddered, jerked again, then finally settled back down and let her thighs drift apart, releasing another flow of juicy slickness out across the already soaked cushions.

Silas, meanwhile, busied himself with trying to flick some of his new coating off. When he wiped at his muzzle he just resulted in transferring it to his paws, and then when he flung those away it sprayed across his bare chest and legs and...

"Good God," Nem murmured from above him. Silas looked up, tilted his head, and picked at an ear, her voice muted beneath a clog. "I guess we - hah - should've put a towel down, huh? Hey, is there any more - wine?"

Silas flicked his paws again, thick strands dripping from his claws. "We'll just have to do that next time," he answered, then looked up and behind himself - and saw that amid the ruckus his half-full shot glass had tumbled over and spilled across the pillow. "Ugh. You're not gonna make me clean this up, are you?"

"Well, it is your fault..."

And, Silas thought, trying to pad his way over to the pillow but slipping in the slickness, there'll probably be more where that came from tonight.