Infestation
Tegon the dragon goes about his day, unaware his home has been infested by tiny micros. This story contains heavy macro, paw, vore, and crush action.
This story features my 'sona, Tegon. You can view his ref sheet here.
Tegon rolled around in bed, content as a dragon could possibly be. The two-toned beast languidly crossed two muscular arms behind his neck and massaged at ivory spines decorating its length. Freedom. He lived for it. Today marked the start of his weekend, and he could relax and enjoy himself a little. Maybe he could call up Sascha from the other night. The spicy dragoness sure held her own behind that bar. Or perhaps he would just lie in bed all d--
*BZZZ*
How apropos, Tegon sardonically thought. The dreaded alarm. A yin to his blissful yang. There was no escaping it, present even on this day of rest. He shut off its incessant buzzing with a well-placed fist and sharply inhaled. Sure, it was Saturday, but the dragon liked to get up early anyway to take a brisk morning jog. With mating season in full swing, Tegon vowed to stay in shape. Fire-breathers were nobodies until they ensured a strong lineage. But first he had to have some coffee. He would be unbearable otherwise.
His lithe body cast off its cotton fetters and stood up. Tegon stretched every square inch of his tired form before pausing. He felt the minutest of itches on his flank and glowered at the obsidian flesh for a few moments. It didn't appear to be anything other than a bit of sand, so the dragon scythed at his scales with vigor. Tender skin burned for an instant before he was able to quell the irritation and continue on with his morning.
***
Far beneath the dragon's notice lived sentient beings who called Tegon's home their own. Did they blow in from a transient draft of air, or stick to the anthro while he was outside? Regardless of how they arrived, they had been living there for almost a week and disseminated throughout his house like wildfire. Tinies covered nearly every square inch of the place, numbering in the billions.
Being microscopic was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, Tegon didn't know they were there. The infamously sadistic dragon wouldn't be able to torture them as he usually did with those much smaller than himself. If he was cognizant of their invasion, they probably would have suffered under clouds of horrific poison or endured weeks of endless vivisection for curiosity and pleasure's sake.
Their tiny size did have its drawbacks, however. Very few lived long enough around Tegon, and catching a glimpse of his godlike body almost always meant death was imminent. Was he actually a god? They were unsure. He could dole out wrath on a biblical scale, they knew that much. Peace offerings tended to get trampled if not ignored, though. Most had escaped divine punishment during the week, when Tegon was at work. But now it was the weekend, and all bets were off.
Loose colonies had been set up by the tribal creatures. Even they were not immune to petty squabbles that consume so many species. In fact, that very morning, two groups with a sum total of over ten thousand were engaged in honorable combat over territory on Tegon's bed. A massive black wall moving rhythmically in and out provided the backdrop for their battle. When the dragon rolled over, day became night. The tinies pirouetted in unison and ran, concerned only about self-preservation. An unholy crunch echoed for miles from their perspective when his back touched down, slaughtering every last one. Rustling leaves a mile away would have been louder to the giant.
A neon green fist sounded the death knell for the second batch of micros that morning, crawling all over his alarm clock. Hundreds of clans were instantly decimated when it impacted the plastic snooze button with enough force to put anything the dinosaurs languished through to shame. There was no warning, no mercy, and no quarter. His fist retracted back into the ether, carrying with it tiny bits and pieces of loved ones. The most Tegon felt on his hand was a little grit, easily mistaken for dust.
Next was his equally shimmering paw, sliding out from under the dragon's blood-red linens. As it pulled away the sheets, it appeared to be arising out of lava to cast judgment upon them. Just the sight of it was demoralizing. Tegon's digitigrade foot approached his hardwood floor faster than they could react. Not that it mattered, not when his paw was so unfathomable as to resemble a heavenly body. Imperfections in the floor's surface allowed a few to find cover, but the rest exploded macabrely under the force of his step. The carnage increased tenfold as Tegon stretched and splayed his toes, putting his full weight on the masses.
Along his body, micros dug in and prepared for the inevitable. When the arbiter of their fate cast his gaze their way, they attempted to show they were peaceful, just trying to eke out a simple existence. He showed no recognition of their friendly attempts at communication, only scorn and disgust. Not at them, but at the irritation their bodies caused to his scales. Tegon's nostrils flared and his lips curled up in a snarl. His demonic eyes pierced their souls, as if daring any of them to resist what would happen next. The message was clear: whatever was bothering him wouldn't be for much longer. When he snorted, a gale of hot breath battered their carapaces.
Claws rained down around them, shaking them loose from safety as Tegon's nails impacted his own flesh. They crisscrossed the tinies' colonies and turned them into a biological sludge.
Ahh, that feels good. Tegon shivered in pleasure as he rended hundreds of bodies apart. One of them screamed up every obscenity he knew before falling silent. His bones were crushed to powder by Tegon's scratching. The micro's remains caught under the dragon's nails and piled up along those of countless others.
The sentient beings wailed, sobbed, and cowered from his might. If he would please, please let them just live. The dragon was the living embodiment of fear, more than any mythical demon in a book. He was real, this was happening, and he could snuff out their lives without knowing it. They were spared from further destruction, but not due to any supplication on their part. Tegon was on his way to breakfast.
Each successive footstep rumbled across the floor as the dragon set into motion.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Rolling thunder built to a crescendo and deafened the survivors. On the ground, micros saw his paw descend, quickly resolving ostensibly smooth skin into individual scales before everything went black. The twitching, barely-alive bodies Tegon left in his wake were finished off by his furry tail. A soft, luxurious tuft was rope-like and bristly on their scale. Individual strands of the fluff bore down and asphyxiated them.
***
The young dragon practically leaped down the stairs, excited to have two whole days to himself. He thought about his closest friend. It had been ages since Pyror was over for some good old-fashioned paw worship. In fact, he and the anthro t-rex hadn't hung out at all for a while. They needed to go out and stomp some sorry tinies together.
Tegon entered his kitchen and put coffee on while he made toast. Grabbing his favorite coffee mug, he didn't notice more grains of sand resting there. When the coffee maker dinged, he poured a serving of boiling-hot liquid into it and sat at the kitchen table.
***
Hundreds of thousands of littles lived inside Tegon's mug. The coffee that came crashing from the heavens was not apocalyptic for its temperature. They had thick shells that could withstand extremely high heat. Several thousand were killed by the force of the liquid, true, but a majority survived by clinging to the mug's walls. Eventually, they became too slick and a throng of them floated in a lake of obsidian below the face of an unwitting executioner. All they could do is sit and wait, gazing up at a smiling face quaintly reading the daily news on his electronic tablet.
Micros who survived the oppressive heat of Tegon's toaster had a similar view of what, for all intents and purposes, was their god. Two callous eyes hungrily peered down at their object of affection: his meal. A snakelike, plump pink tongue slithered over ragged teeth, dripping saliva over them. The foul, sticky miasma claimed the lives of a hundred more whose lungs filled with the bitter spit.
***
Tegon was only a few generations removed from his feral brethren, and when eating he revealed his primal side. He messily gulped the toast down in seconds, washing it down with a sip of coffee. Hmm. Tegon contorted his features. Something about this is off. The coffee was gritty, and the toast seemed a little more sticky than usual. Weirdly, though, it had a nice bite to it, with a familiar metallic taste he couldn't quite place. He wormed a claw between his teeth, using it as a toothpick. I'll have to throw the rest of the loaf out when I get back. Maybe clean the coffee machine, too.
***
The dragon's mouth yawned into a chasm in milliseconds. Terrified beings clutched at the toast's nooks and crannies as g-forces pushed them down. Tegon was lifting it to his mouth. Pearly white teeth rocketed past them while he positioned the bread to take a bite. He ripped a piece off and chomped down. The micros were much too small to be speared by a tooth, but certainly not enough to be ground out of existence.
Tegon tipped the mug toward his maw, and began to suck in air in anticipation of tasting the scalding hot liquid. The rush pulled a great many into the dragon's mouth, and whatever they impacted liquefied them. A few whipped past his tongue to land directly in an unforgiving bath of acid.
Those closest to his slimy depths swam desperately, hopelessly against the tide. Maybe he would suddenly lose his thirst, or the coffee was too hot to drink. But they were not that lucky. Dark, aromatic nectar flooded into his mouth and stagnated there. Littles still in the mug tried to hold onto the bodies of their own kind, but could only watch helplessly as Tegon put the mug back down and ripped them away.
The dragon tilted his head back, imperceptibly to himself, but enough for the micros to slide over his tongue and back toward the black hole of his throat. In a swift gulp, the coffee suddenly dropped toward his stomach, carrying all the sputtering and drowning creatures with it. Remaining tinies floundered in eerie darkness and silence.
The sensory deprivation in Tegon's mouth was interrupted when his lips parted, allowing streams of light to filter in. His claw, caked with blood and debris, appeared and slammed between two teeth. Limbs were ripped from their sockets and bodies imploded by the force of Tegon's picking. Suddenly, it withdrew and sealed them in nothingness once again.
One bug breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he would be spared a gruesome death like so many he had just seen. He was still on the dragon's tooth, and his host's chewing appeared to die down. Luck was not in his favor that day. Tegon's tongue pulled him off and threw him backward, where he was swallowed like everyone else.
For the rest, an undeserved but deadly ride through his digestive system would be in their future.
With such thick armor, they suffered for hours before succumbing to the dragon's body, all the while being joined by more and more as Tegon finished his snack.
***
Tegon patted his stomach and let out a small belch. Any food was good food, and now he was ready to go jogging. He threw the rest of his coffee down the drain and went to get his shoes. The dragon slipped on a pair of socks before tying tight his sneakers. Again, he was perturbed. His foot itched against what felt like more sand. Not a great start to the day so far, he thought. Nonetheless, he wasn't going to let a minor stumbling block stop him from enjoying his weekend. He opened his front door and stepped out into the sunlight.
***
Yet more micros were nestled in Tegon's socks, a popular spot for colonization from its capacity for shelter and warmth. The dragon pulled them on, wiggling and maneuvering his clawed toes to push them deeper. Micros sprinted across uneven, dingy white fabric to distance themselves. Tegon's foot covered the distance in a nanosecond and forced them to a prone position. Millions suffocated under his sweaty flesh. The heady scent of musk permeated every one of their pores. Gaps between his scales acted as crevasses to drag them along with Tegon's foot and force their faces into filth. The smallest particles of dirt and other unsavory morsels needled their way into the tinies' mouths. Eventually, his foot stopped when his toeclaws began to stretch the stained fabric.
Almost as if to consciously double their pain, Tegon then slid his socked foot into his running shoe. Ignorant micros there saw the vague outline of three boulders speed towards their homes. The visible imprint of his toes on the shoe's surface allowed some to run between them and seek shelter where his toes would not rest. Stragglers simply vanished, but those who made it won the pleasure of bathing in sweat dripping from his feet.
Lifting his shoe into the air caused all of their heads to spin. The motion doomed littles who rolled out from relative safety and directly under his toepads. Their final seconds on the plane of existence was punctuated by a wet squelch.
***
Tegon made excellent time, feet pounding against the ground in earnest. He couldn't shake the obnoxious feeling in his shoes, though. So he slipped off one of them and shook it out over the pavement before continuing on his way.
***
Tegon's foot was a guillotine that wouldn't cease its reign of terror. The dragon was happily, albeit unknowingly, committing genocide underfoot. Every time his toes dug into the running shoe's fabric, a thousand micros would be flattened. Then a thousand more. Over and over again, with no end in sight.
Some intrepid micros believed they would be safer by climbing to the tops of his toes. Timing their movements carefully along with Tegon's steps, they slowly ascended a daunting wall of scales. Upon reaching the summit, a random and capricious flex battered them to death between scales and nylon.
Unexpectedly, there was a brief respite. The motion stopped. His musky paw was peeled away. They could finally see again. Was he done walking? Those who rushed for the exits lost their balance as he tipped his shoe miles above the concrete. Their relative size saved them, but the dragon would have been kinder to just execute them there. Now they would have to contend with an alien and unforgiving macro world as Tegon disappeared into the distance.
***
Upon returning home, Tegon went to take a shower. When the cool, refreshing water cascaded around his chest, he moaned. Grabbing a bar of soap, he lathered his toned body and stopped around his vent. It had been days since he mated, and a fire in his loins had smoldered all morning. He slipped a finger into his slit and probed around gently until his cock emerged, proud and aching. With an unusual amount of traction, he played with the tip until he began leaking pre, then jerked himself off until he came. Tegon's cum painted the shower walls before he washed it all down the drain.
***
The dragon might have killed countless micros by now, but on a body his relative size, hundreds of thousands remained clinging to his scales. When the titan turned on his shower, a blast of water dislodged several colonies on his chest. Their broken and mangled bodies were whisked away between Tegon's feet, which were also being washed clean of a vast landscape of gore.
Tegon began masturbating, and the micros on his jet black cock stared in horror as a wrinkled green horror targeted them. Individual digits curled one by one to wrap themselves around the warm flesh. What were they to do? The creatures put their hands up, begged, bargained. They would purge themselves of sin for only a few more minutes of reality. Whether praying or running, the unyielding hand was without bias. Tegon's skin caught each body, squeezing it flat until their guts oozed out. The smell of death was drowned out by the dragon's masculine scent. Enough bodies were on his cock to provide lubrication and help along his orgasm.
Even if they had somehow, by some miraculous series of circumstances, been able to catch his notice, Tegon would be too far along, too singularly focused on cumming to care about their lives. Looking up, they saw the dragon lick his lips and lift his muzzle. He breathed raggedly and groaned, sensing cum overflowing from his balls. He pointed his cock toward the shower drain, and blew his load.
At just over a hundred micrometers each, the tinies around his tip were now forced to contend with streams of the dragon's sperm. The whip-like cells were not quite their size, but large enough to grotesquely squirm their way around them. Any disgust took a backseat to an imminent death, as those trapped in a bead of his cum slowly saw themselves fall farther and farther away from Tegon's cock before dislodging completely and slamming against the shower floor. There were no survivors.
***
Tegon stepped out of the shower to the sound of his phone ringing. Quickly toweling himself off, the black and green dragon picked up his handset.
"Hey." It was Pyror. "Yeah? You wanna come over? Nah, it's been boring so far. I haven't done anything today."