Max saw the sign in the light of his high beams: Stout and Hale Materials Inc., 5 miles. Rather than turning into its parking lot, he veered into the sand and drove around back as soon as the building appeared on the horizon. Its hulking outline grew quickly as Max’s car hurtled towards its sheer gray walls, softly lit by the pale glow of the setting moon. Something fishy was going on in there, and he was going to be the one to find out what. The 1000-man plant had the output of an operation twice its size; the math was simply impossible. 

The doberman took a deep breath, grabbed his battery-operated reciprocating saw, and cut himself a hole in the disabled electric fence. He had waited many months for this opportunity: his plans could only be carried out during a blackout, when the security measures were not working. He cut the surveillance cameras down too, just in case the power came back on before he made his way out. It did not take him long to find a way in; he picked the lock, slipped through the door, and quietly shut it behind him. He had already taken a guided tour of the facility, so he knew its general layout, but he distinctly remembered a number of rooms he was not permitted to explore; an entire floor, in fact, was “dedicated to storage,” and was supposedly not interesting enough to show him even when he insisted. He crept to the stairwell and went down, holding tight to the railing to avoid falling over in the pitch darkness. In case there were any guards still wandering around the plant, he did not want to use his flashlight except when absolutely necessary. At the bottom of the stairs, he found two doors: one with a keypad, and a bathroom with a hastily-scribbled “out of order” note taped onto it. He checked the back of the paper, and found the code 9999. He punched the numbers into the keypad, but alas! The power outage stopped him from unlocking it. God, this is going to be noisy, he thought as he pulled out his saw and stuck the blade between the door and the wall, just above the lock. He heard a gentle snoring on the other side; it would be a miracle if he could pull this off without waking the person up. Luckily for him, the power came back on just before he pulled the trigger. He entered the code and opened the door, finding himself on some sort of steel mesh catwalk. Though the room was still pitch dark, he could tell by the echo of his footsteps that it was a truly enormous chamber. He tried to use his flashlight to have a look around, but just about every surface was too far away to be illuminated by it. He still could not find the snoring man, but judging by the sonorous tone of that rumbling, he was looking for a macro. The walls were made up of dark concrete, and the floor was a long way down. He spent what seemed like an eternity creeping down the stairs until he reached the ground.

And there he was: the big scoop himself, coated in medium-green fur with a white face, chest, and belly. Somehow, the company had managed to smuggle a giant fox into their factory. Macros were generally not allowed to work in places like these: since they could do the work of many at a fraction of the cost, the vast majority of unions had a zero-tolerance policy for their employment, and would forbid all their members from working at any company that hired one. For similar reasons, federal law said that only a few dozen were allowed to enter the country each year. They were not allowed to breed without government permission (which was very expensive, and only granted at the end of a very competitive process), so the vast majority of them were not even supposed to be there. Max grew giddy at the thought of his imminent fame: with this exposé, he would bring hundreds of jobs back to San Avellino. He would be a local hero. It would be a literal David-and-Goliath story. It was about time his career took off. He whipped out his camera, shined his light on the fox’s face, and snapped about a dozen pictures. He also took a few shots of his plushy gut, his thick-skinned footpaws, and his sweaty, oversized sheath-and-balls, knowing that such racy photos could fetch a pretty penny in some circles. The giant groaned and started to roll over; Max turned off his light and started to tiptoe back up the catwalk stairs. The beast’s eyes fluttered open, and his sensitive ears began to twitch. He could hear the soft footfalls of Max’s shoes on the metal - the unmistakable noise of somebody trying to be stealthy.

“Boss,” he asked, “Is that you? What’s going on?”

Max froze.

“Boss? Hello?”

Max held his breath for a long minute, and kept still for a dozen more. When he heard the giant snoring again, he cautiously made his way forward. The fox had only pretended to fall asleep, however, so when Max resumed his ascent, he heard him walking.

“Boss, what has gotten into you? Is this some kind of stupid joke? You come to my quarters, shine a light in my eyes, and pretend you’re not here? I’m not mad, I just want to know why.”

Max did not move or speak.

“I know you’re there, man. Seriously, what are you trying to accomplish with this?”

Max stayed silent.

“Well, if you’re going to play that game, I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”

The fox rolled over, turning away from Max. But at that moment, the little dog’s scent wafted over his snout. He smelled a stranger, and knew something was amiss. Nobody but the boss knew of his existence, and if anybody else discovered him, that would mean trouble.

“Freeze, intruder,” the beast commanded sternly, “Who are you and why are you here?

Max broke into a sprint, scaling the steps three at a time. Before he could reach the door, the fox sprung into action, striking down the section of catwalk in front of the door just before Max reached the top stair. Great strands of mangled steel crashed to the floor below, making a sound like a cart of pots and pans being thrown down a mountain. Frayed metal gave way to a fatal drop inches away from him. He barely caught himself on the railing, avoiding certain death by the spur of instinct. The fox’s finger flicked the wall beside him, turning on the main lights. His powerful paw fell upon Max, pressing him into the wall with just enough restraint to avoid squishing him. The sweaty smell of his massive, cushy pads hit his uninvited guest like a truck, causing him to grimace as the stench soaked into his shirt.

“What is your name and what is your business?”

A dark claw stuck out in front of his face, promising to crush his skull if he should answer unwisely. The giant was clearly not in the mood to play games, and would most likely punish silence, truth, and falsehood alike. 

Max chose to lie:

“I’m Harold Steinwiener, I’m an information officer at Kalisicana ltd. I’m basically a corporate spy; I snuck in here to figure out how S&H can produce so much with only a thousand employees.“

“Well,” said the fox, pointing at himself with his free thumb, “now you know. I suppose you’re prepared to do what it takes to give your firm the advantage over mine. I suppose you’re going to tell the public, and I’ll have to be fired. I’m not about to let that happen. I’m sorry it has to be this way, lil’ guy, but you know too much. Say your prayers.”

He increased the pressure on Max, preparing to squash the intruder into paste. 

“Wait,” the dog shouted desperately, “that’s not the case at all! I’d like to offer you a job; why would we just throw you to the wolves when we could buy your services ourselves? Whatever you’re making here, we’ll pay you 125%.”

“I doubt you’d be authorized to make that kind of decision.”

The fox grabbed Max and set him on the floor, just in front of an old wooden table. A black rotary telephone sat on the left side of it.

“Get your employer on the phone and get him to confirm your offer,” the fox continued, “Tell him that you accomplished your mission undetected, calling safe and sound from a payphone outside of the plant. Put it on speaker so I can hear what he says. Don’t mention where you’ve been specifically; if you’re telling me the truth, your boss should already know what you’re up to.”

Max only had one option: call his editor, pretend to be Mr. Steinweiner, and hope the old man recognized his voice and played along.

“Hey, Terry. It’s me, Harold, at the gas station payphone by exit 57. You won’t believe what I just found: an a-hundred-fifty-foot tall fox. That’s their big secret. He lives in the facility itself. I promised the golden goose 1.25x his current wage to work for us, and the sucker said ‘yes.’ Is that alright with you?“

There was no payphone at that gas station. The editor figured he should follow Max’s lead.

“Holy shit, you’re a miracle worker. Tell him he’s hired. Ask him to show up on the northwest slope of Mount Festus at 2:00 o’clock tomorrow night; we’ll pick him up and take him to his new home.”

“Understood, cya tomorrow.”

Max put down the receiver, raise his arms in triumph, and emphatically declared the deal:

“Congratulations… good sir!”

“John,” said the fox.

“Congratulations, John,” Max repeated with an enthusiastic pump of the fist. “You’re hired. Welcome to team Kalisicana; I look forward to working with you.”

The macro chuckled and shook his head. “You’re a damn good actor, I’ll give you that much. If your friend wasn’t a total nimrod, I would’ve actually fallen for your little scheme. If he had really been an executive at Kalisicana, I doubt he would’ve agreed to ’125 percent’ without knowing the actual dollar amount of it. Who are you, really?” 

Max slipped back into panic mode, quickly losing control of the situation:

“I’m with the FBI. My colleagues know exactly where I am and what I’m looking for. If I don’t report back to my guys before the break of dawn, we’re calling in the army. Just because you’re a giant doesn’t mean you’re somehow invincible, or above the law. Believe me, 500 men with rocket launchers can make quick work of you. It’s a real ugly sight, watching the burning, hole-riddled body of a man your size crumple to the ground, roaring in agony as his guts spill out. It’s a hell of a thing to clean up. Ever heard of white phosphorus, John?“

“Officer, with all due respect, you can spare me the monologue. You coulda just told me you were with the feds in the first place,” said John, lifting his paw off of Max, “I’m not dumb enough to hurt a cop. You got a badge?”

“No, I’m deep undercover.”

The giant rolled his eyes and pinned him back to the floor.

“Likely story. Tell me one more lie, and you’re breakfast.”

Max had run out of lies to tell, anyways.

“I’m Max Teistie, a reporter for the San Avellino Moonbeam, and that man I spoke to on the phone was my editor. So yeah, the press now knows what’s going on here. If I don’t leave this place alive, it won’t be too hard to figure out who did it.“

“Yeah, no. I’m not buying it. You seem like a decent man, so I’ll give you 2 options: You can live here with me until I either die or get taken to another location, or I can treat you to a quick and painless end tonight. What’ll it be?”

“I’d rather live,” stated Max matter-of-factly.

John sighed and smiled. “Alright, I guess we should become friends, since we might be spending the rest of our lives together. I think we kinda started off on the wrong foot, so let’s try this again:”

He cleared his throat and stuck his massive paw out for a handshake.

“I’m John Stoke. As you know, I’m a production associate at Stout and Hale, and I’ll be your roommate for the next little while. I’m 25 years old; I was secretly born and raised in a Chicago warehouse, but I moved down here when I was about 14. I was getting a bit too big for my parents to conceal, and the fellas at S&H were kind enough to offer me work and shelter at their San Avellino plant, so here I am. In my spare time, I like to work out, listen to music, and play sports with my friends.”

“What friends?” inquired Max, “Are there more of you?”

“Not here, no. They work for other people. From 1 to 5 AM, when nobody’s awake, we’re authorized to go out into the desert for some fresh air. We have a meeting spot where we’ve set up some goalposts so we can play soccer. We’ve also managed to carve ourselves some bats out of trees, so we can play baseball too. We also fight for fun, occasionally. If you like, you can come along and watch one of these days. Sometimes, we just sit around and talk.” 

“Talk about what?”

“We tell stories from our lives, share updates about how things are going at work, and discuss what we hear on the radio. We can usually come up with some meaningless nonsense to blab about, if we get really bored.”

“That all sounds pretty lame, no offense. Do you like politics?”

“Nope, and everyone who does is kind of a dick from what I’ve seen.”

“Wow, OK. I’ll try not to take that personally. What about theater? Have you seen any good plays lately?”

“Nah, I’ve never watched one.”

“Well, what’s your favorite poem, then?”

John shrugged: “I’ve only heard a few, I don’t know any by heart.”

“So, what do you do when you’re alone?”

“Work out, jack off, and listen to the radio, mostly. They don’t make books or TVs our size.”

“That’s a sad existence.“

“Yes, yes, poor me. I’m an uncultured swine. How much do you make, again?“

“I hardly see why it matters; you’re always cooped up in here, and you can’t be seen in public. You can’t go out, so you can’t spend your money on anything.”

“It’s not so bad. There’s a fellow who comes to our nighttime meetups with all sorts of shit to sell us, and if I need something in particular, I can usually just ask the boss to buy it for me and take the price out of my paycheck.“

Max harrumphed, causing John to raise his hands in a gesture of apologetic nonaggression.

“Alright, sorry, touchy subject. Lemme see your abs.”

Max took off his shirt and tried to flex. The fox gently prodded his midsection with a giant claw, and found nothing but pudge. He could not help himself; he had to make fun of the vain little pest’s physique:

“Non-existent. And you’re the one calling my life sad.“

“Feh. At least I’m literate. Do you have any ideas about the meaning of life, or do you simply do things without knowing why, running on autopilot like a dumb beast?”

“We just met and we’re still trying to become friends. I highly doubt talking philosophy is a good idea at this point.”

“Ah, the fool forsakes wisdom, truth, and argument for peace of mind. The mark of an inferior being. And aren’t you the one bullying me about my income and health?”

Max sighed and shook his head, as if he actually felt pity for his captor, but John laughed at him.

“Don’t worry,” said the fox, “I’m sure we’ll find some common ground eventually. Do you like men?”

Max blushed: “Well, uh, sorta? Why do you ask?”

“Well, I like men. I happen to think you’re pretty adorable yourself, and I’d love it if you’d be willing to lie with me from time to time over the course of our life together.“

“So we’re not close enough to debate the nature of reality, but close enough to have sex?”

“Exactly! See, you’re starting to get it.”

Max frowned pensively, his curiosity piqued.

“So, how would it even work? Like, with the size difference and everything.”

“Well,” said John eagerly, “I’ll show you!”

He cupped Max in his paw and placed him on the ground in front of his gargantuan sack. 

“Fondle my balls; there’s really no wrong way to do it. Squish, rub, push, and shove. Feel free to use your tongue, if you’re so inclined. Whatever you’d like a micro to do to your nuts, do to mine. I’ll work the shaft myself.”

Max, turned on hard by John’s instructions and quickly growing obsessed with the fox’s musk, charged straight into his plushy scrotum and began massaging it vigorously. He took a deep breath of its heavy scent, and went completely nuts. 

“Whoof, someone’s in the mood! That’s good, I don’t feel like a slow burn today. Don’t hold back.”

Max uttered a primal growl, so overcome with lust that he could not speak coherently. He kept rubbing, leaning into John’s giant balls with all his weight. He sunk into his tender sack, letting its supple flesh form around him. He ground himself against the immense orbs on either side of him, sparing no strength in his effort to please the fox. Max attacked John’s sensitive beanbag with hugs, slaps, and kisses for minutes on end, neither slowing down nor taking a break. This merciless massage got the macro panting and quivering before long; both men were drenched in sweat from head to toe before five minutes had passed. They threw grunts of ecstacy at one another through clenched teeth, with every muscle in their bodies tense with pleasure. Not a single thought crossed either of their minds; pure passion and masculine instinct drove every movement instead. Accordingly, neither of them showed an ounce of restraint in gratifying John’s throbbing meat. The fat red wad loomed tall above Max, building his lust as he watched the pre drip from its head. It shined bright in the pale yellow glow of the room’s fluorescent lights, smeared in the clear juice by John’s strong hands. Despite his tight grip, his paws slipped up and down his overlubricated shaft quickly and easily, so that Max could feel a rush of air hit him at the end of every pump. The doberman, when his head was not buried in John’s cocksack, marveled at his bulging arms, drooling over the thick scent that poured down from his dark pits. His perfect biceps struck his mate with awe, as did his mountainous abs, each of which was taller than the lesser dog. 

HUFF-

Max could tell John was getting close by the sheer intensity of his body heat. His thighs were utterly slick with perspiration by this point; his fur shined and dripped with it, from the fuzz around his calloused footpaws to his giant, glistening pecs. His labored exhalations buffeted Max like a hurricane, blowing his fur back with a damp, scalding gale. Droplets of saliva descended upon him too, clinging tightly to his coat. He kept rubbing John’s enormous balls spiritedly, intermittently jostling them about with push-kicks and slams of the shoulder. He tossed and slid them about with all his might, pushing John closer to climax with every shove. He pushed and pulled them every which way, nuzzling and licking his sensitive sack all the while. All this energetic, devoted action proved perfect for John’s tastes, bringing him to the peak of pleasure. He gradually increased the speed with which he stroked himself, paying no mind to the ludicrous amount of precum flowing over his knuckles, shaft, knot, and balls. Every tug sent an ear-rending SCHLRK echoing through the chamber, a testament to the sheer force behind each one. 

John cocked his head back and sang an open-mouthed roar of ecstasy, pumping out a jet of hot cum that rose a dozen feet into the air before plummeting to the floor. Max dove for cover, but was unable to take shelter beneath John’s ballsack fast enough. He was knocked flat on the ground by the force of the cascade, and was completely soaked in a matter of seconds. The waterfall of jizz pinned him to the ground for what felt like eons. One could not tell whether he was a cat or a dog, he was covered in such a thick mess. He tried shaking himself dry, but to no avail; the batter was simply too sticky. His fur felt insanely heavy; he could barely stand up under the weight of all that cum. He rolled around on the floor to rub it off, but no matter what he tried, it refused to come out of his fluff. But with one glance at the grateful, wholly-satisfied expression on his fox’s face, Max knew the stickiness was all worthwhile.
 
“John?”

“Yeah?”

“You have a shower in here, right?”

“Oh, geez, I slimed you pretty bad, didn’t I? Here, lemme clean you up:”

He carefully picked Max up, stuck out his tongue, and placed him on the tip. Max had no reason to believe John held ill intent for him, but all his instincts cried out in fear; too terrified to speak, he bolted away from the abominable humidity of John’s maw and took a leap of faith, hoping to grab onto a nearby machine. Before he could fall to his death, John caught him. 

“Woah, calm down! I’m not going to eat you; we’re friends now, remember? More than that, we’re mates. If I wanted to swallow you, I would have done it already. C’mon, work with me here. I can see how it’d be a little scary at first, but from what I hear, my mouth is actually a pretty nice place once you get used to it. Like a nice warm bath, they say; If you’ll just trust me, I’ll get you squeaky clean in no time. I promise you, it’s perfectly safe. I’ll be gentle. I know how fragile you are. So, are you ready to go back in, or are you going to spend the rest of your life drenched in my cum?”

Max, having calmed his nerves a bit by then, told John to do what he must. This time, he curled his tongue so Max could not back away. Max was barely able to stop himself from panicking this time, shivering though he managed to keep otherwise still. John slowly drew his tongue back into his mouth, trying his best not to further alarm his horror-stricken pet. The sweltering heat inside had a calming effect on him. As John cautiously shut his mouth to cut Max off from the world, he stayed right where he was, refusing to make a break for it despite his visceral distress. Pure darkness enveloped him, but he managed to keep his cool, though he knew he would only see the light of day again if John allowed it. The fox let out a soft purr of gratification when he felt Max stop shaking, profoundly happy to have finally earned his lover’s trust. Saliva gradually filled his maw, subsuming Max’s helpless form into its wet heat. The cum saturating Max’s fur dissolved in the thick, clear juice, leaving the doberman’s coat clean and shiny. Infinitely-careful gulps drained away the nut as fresh spit flowed down from the roof of his mouth and ran through his fur. John kept up this treatment for ten minutes, soaking Max’s fur in drool and sucking it out over and over again. He tenderly pressed the dog into the roof of his mouth to squeeze the fluid from his fuzz, and received no complaints. He rubbed under Max’s arms and between his legs with the sides of his tongue, scrubbing the filth from his most sensitive crevices. Though this exercise was only intended to clean Max up, the hound responded with unexpectedly-intense lust, gripping John’s tongue as hard as he could. Rock-hard and lubricated to perfection, he humped it enthusiastically, grinding his shaft up and down the great muscle’s rough, slimy surface. The taste of his sweat and pre caused John to drool on him even more. Submerged up to his neck at the bottom of his mate’s maw, Max groaned as he came, blowing his milky load directly into John’s saliva. He flushed the mess away promptly, lustily swallowing down the doberman’s ejaculation in one ulp. Prey and predator wordlessly agreed to spend a little more in time in this intimate position, but a minute turned to an hour, and neither man wanted it to end; Max relaxed under John’s caring tongue, content with the feeling of his keeper’s viscous slobber pooling and washing over him. The hot goop carried his flavor all over John’s mouth, filling it with a salty, meaty taste. Max remained perfectly still, enjoying the powerful thumping of his fox’s heart alongside the sound of his immense lungs rhythmically filling up and deflating. The occasional burp would rise from John’s throat, choking Max with the smell of digested cattle and cum. After a while, Max started to fall asleep. John felt his pulse slow, and gave him a quick nudge to make sure he wouldn’t drown. But as time passed, he grew used to the sensations of John’s mouth, and his mind drifted back towards ordinary matters. He had to escape this accursed factory somehow; he had to have a world-famous career in investigative journalism, which he could not achieve as a permanent toy for some horny illiterate fox. But it just felt so good inside him - I’ll come out in 5 more minutes, Max kept telling himself. John turned on the radio, serenading Max with smooth jazz. The radio man declared the time after every few songs, and Max realized it was getting pretty late. Eventually, he summoned up the spirit to ask John to let him out, at which point he scooped him up with his tongue and laid him on the floor.

“So,” John eagerly asked, “How was it?”

“Oh, it was fabulous in there,” Max replied to the fox’s visible delight, “But it’s well past 1:00, your macro friends are probably wondering where you are.”

“Aw, screw the guys!” said John with a wave of the wrist, “I hang out with them every night. Right now, I want to be with you. If you want to spend the night in my mouth, I’d be delighted to have you.“

“No, really, I’m fine. I needed some fresh air, anyways.” 

“I mean, there are ways of having fun that don’t involve you being suffocated in my hot, stuffy mouth. Wanna jack me off again?“

“I’m not super horny anymore; I’m all worn out from that tongue stuff you did. Thanks, though.”

“Well, how about you come to the desert with me? It’s baseball night tonight.“

“No thanks. I’ve had enough adventure for one day.”

“Alright,” said John as he gave Max a jumbo-sized kiss on the cheek, “I’ll see ya soon!”

He unplugged the telephone and placed it upon a high-up shelf, ruining Max’s chances of contacting help, and crawled into a dark tunnel on the far end of the room. Max soon heard a set of large steel doors slam shut at the end of the tunnel, signaling John's exit. Immediately, Max began plotting his flight; he had to construct some sort of bridge between where the catwalk had been broken and the keypad door. Below the stairs, he found a perfectly-sized metal beam for this purpose. He lugged it to the base of the stairs and began dragging it up, exerting great effort to lift it over each step. He was about halfway up the stairs when he heard the tunnel doors slide open; somehow, John had returned already. He knew certain death awaited him if he was caught trying to escape. He dropped the beam and sprinted back down the stairs, taking shelter under a boiler just before John entered the room. The first thing he noticed upon his return was the steel beam laying haphazardly on the stair’s landing; it had clearly slid a long way down, having left a large dent where it hit the wall.

“Max?”

No response. A whiff of the air led John to his pet, who was still cowering ass-up in his hiding place, totally defenseless and visibly afraid. 

“John! What are you doing here? I thought you were going to play ball?”

“Max, why are you hiding from me?”

“I’m not hiding, I’m just exploring.”

“And you don’t respond when I call your name. Why did you drag a beam up the stairs?”

Thinking on his feet, Max pretended to utter an exasperated groan: “It’s called roleplay, you idiot. I’m not actually trying to get out — if I was, I’d have come up with a better excuse than ‘exploring.’ Thanks for ruining it. Now, let’s try this again.“

He cleared his throat and said in an uncharacteristically feminine voice:

“Oh No! Daddy caught me trying to slip away! Please, please don’t stick me in your hot, slimy mouth and torture me with your big, strong tongue! Oh please forgive me, master! I don’t want to be constricted to the point of immobility by your irresistible abs and slowly melted into chyme by your sexy gut! Oh, but such a gruesome fate would be so fitting for a dastardly traitor like myself…”

John was not amused: “Not less than 5 minutes ago, you told me you had enough sex for the day, and that you didn’t want to come back inside my mouth. Why the sudden change of heart? If you had been roleplaying, you would have at least given me some sort of hint beforehand. Otherwise, how could I be expected to know? We’ve only known each other for a couple hours, Max, but I know you’re not dumb enough to put your life at risk like that.“

Max dropped the submissive femboy impression: “OK, first of al-”

“Just… stop talking,” said the fox, cringing with frustration, “I honestly thought we had something.“

“I-“

“I told you to stop talking, man. It’ll only piss me off more. Every filthy lie that comes from your mouth just rubs it in - that I was dumb enough to fall for your crap, I mean. God, I can’t wait to chomp down on your obnoxious little skeleton and end your insufferable whining.”

“I’m sorry-”

“No,” John replied angrily, “you’re obviously not.”

“At least-”

“Alright,” the fox erupted, “I’ve had it with you.”

John roughly scooped him up and threw him into his mouth, shoving him onto one of his molars with his tongue; that kind, gentle organ which had so lovingly and meticulously cleaned Max was now pushing him to his doom. But before John brought his upper jaw down upon his prey, he came up with a better idea. He would swallow Max whole, treating him to a slow death so he would have the chance to regret his cruelty. Whether he would digest or drown first, he neither knew nor cared. He swept the dog into the center of his mouth, and a glimmer of hope entered his heart. That hope was dashed into a thousand pieces when John flung him to his throat with a flick of the tongue. Max held on to the top of the throat as long as he could, crying and begging to be released, but he was quickly losing his grip. Max’s pleas for his life almost had their desired effect: pity reared its ugly head within John after Max’s every word, but he reminded himself of the micro’s deceitful nature and struck down his conscience every time. He felt Max’s paws slip from their hold, and heard him scream in pure terror as he began to slide. He kicked and pawed against the steep esophagus walls, but could not find a proper foothold. Before he could plummet to his cruel fate, he made like a starfish, slowing his descent with his limbs on his mate’s esophageal walls. He managed to cry out one more tearful monologue as he slowly slid into the abyss, toward John’s waiting stomach:

“I’m not a dishonest man, John. What would you have done in my place? Would you have let yourself disappear from the face of the earth, just to serve the sexual desires of a single man? Would you abandon your family and friends, leaving them to wonder eternally whether you’re dead or alive? If you were the micro and I was the giant, would you really have given yourself to me as a mere pet? I was in the wrong, John. I see that now. I understand why you can’t let me go, and I’m prepared to live out the rest of my life in secret as your lover and servant. That’s what I get for being a fame-hungry snoop. But can’t you forgive me for this selfish little lapse in judgment that almost any other man would have made in my place? Doesn’t the desire for freedom rule your heart, too? Doesn’t the mere thought of captivity fill you with instinctual fear and anger? I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never disobey you again. I really do love you, John. I just let my ambition get the better of me for a moment. But you’ve humbled me. I realize now that if I were you, I wouldn’t let a slimy little liar like me go free. Hell, I might even digest me, too. But when I say that I’ll do anything for you, I mean it this time. I know it’s a lot to ask, but please just spare my life. I’d be yours from now on, no matter what happens. Not just out of fear, but because I want to do whatever I can to make you happy, to repay you for letting me live.”

Deeply stirred by Max’s heartwrenching desperation, John wept for his prey. The thought of digesting a fellow dog made him sick to the stomach, but he kept his vomit down. He told himself that he would forget about Max soon no matter how he felt now, whereas if his prey was allowed to live, he would escape and squeal sooner or later. It’s kill or be killed, the fox reassured himself. Yet these musings provided little consolation to John, overpowered by sobbing and begging of his mate.

“I’m sorry for this, Max,” whimpered the predator, “I really am.”

“Then cough me up, John! It’s not too late. I want to live. I want to feel your caring paws around me. I want to lay down in your soft fur once again. I want to be with you forever, the outside world be damned. But I can’t love you if I’m dead. I don’t want you to live the rest of your life in solitude; I want to be there for you, every hour of every day. All you have to do is spit me out, and that dream can be reality. Am I really worth more to you as food than as a friend? Do you want to live the rest of your life knowing that the man you loved died in your stomach, and you could have let him out? Please, John, forgive me-”

With that, his muscles failed and he quickly fell to his dark and slimy destination. He crashed through the behemoth’s esophageal sphincter, landing in his stomach. John’s restrained sniffling devolved into full-out bawling at the sound of the splash, but he took no action to free his prey. Hot stomach acid soaked through Max’s fur as his own tears dripped into the caustic soup, and he had difficulty breathing in the lung-burning air of the deadly chamber. He begged and wailed to no avail; John felt worse at every scream, but his mind was made up. 

“I’m so sorry Max, but I can’t. I want to let you out. I want you to be free again, I want to see you smile and I want your love. But I know you’ll only deceive me again. You don’t deserve to die, but there’s no other way out for me. I know that you mean what you’re saying now, but if I let you out, you’d forget about all those feelings. You’d start to see me as your captor again, and you’d be willing to stab me in the back again for it. Fear can’t change a man. If I let you out, the love wouldn’t last long. You’d only hate me for having put you through this ordeal in the first place, and for being so heartless as to contemplate murdering you. No matter how many times I forgave you, you would try to escape again. One day, you’d succeed. You’d publish your harrowing story, everyone would adore you for it, and you’d forget about me. This can only end one of two ways: I digest you, or I get blown up for swallowing a micro. A man will promise anything to anyone if that’s what it takes to live. As soon as you’re out of danger, you’d turn on me with unadulterated wrath. I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. Goodbye, Max. I’ll always love you.”

Ending 1: Non-fatal:

Max shouted his final plea from the belly of the beast:

“JOHN, LET ME OUT NOW. MY SKIN’S COMING OFF. PLEASE, JOHN, IT HURTS. I WANT TO LIVE. I’LL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU, JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE BEFORE I DIE. I DON’T DESERVE THIS, ALL I DID WAS TAKE A COUPLE OF PICTURES. YOU ATE ME TO KEEP YOUR JOB. AM I REALLY WORTH THAT LITTLE TO YOU? DO I REALLY HAVE TO DIE JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE UNWILLING TO GO FIND A NEW HOME? I WOULD NOT HAVE HAD TO LIE IF YOU WEREN’T THREATENING TO MURDER ME. I PROMISED TO OBEY YOU IF YOU LET ME OUT, AND I’LL STAND BY THAT FOREVER. BUT EVEN IF I BROKE MY OATH, WOULD THAT WARRANT DEATH? YOU CHASTISE ME FOR MY DISHONESTY, BUT ARE YOU NOT THE ONE KILLING ME TO KEEP YOUR OWN LOCATION SECRET? WHY SHOULD I SUFFER FOR YOUR CRIMINALITY? HOW COULD YOU CLAIM TO LOVE ME, YET ACT SO SELFISH? YOU’RE THE REAL LIAR, JOHN: YOU TELL ME YOU’RE SORRY, BUT YOU GO ON DIGESTING ME ALL THE SAME. YOU SAY YOU’RE ONLY DOING THIS TO PROTECT YOURSELF, AND THAT YOU YOU DON’T ACT OUT OF HATE OR REVENGE. YET, YOU FORCE ME TO DIE A SLOW, EXCRUCIATING DEATH IN YOUR BELLY, RATHER THAN A QUICK DEATH BETWEEN YOUR TEETH. FOR HOURS AFTER I FALL STILL AND SILENT, I WILL REMAIN CONSCIOUS, FEELING MY FLESH BURNING OFF LAYER BY LAYER. HAVE YOU EVER FELT A FRACTION OF THAT AGONY? YOU’RE WILLING TO PUT ME THROUGH THIS, JUST FOR A LITTLE BIT OF MONEY? IS THIS THE MAN YOU DREAMED OF BECOMING WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG? IS THIS THE SORT OF ACT THAT WILL MAKE YOU PROUD WHEN YOU GET OLD? COUGH ME UP THIS INSTANT, YOU MONSTER, OR YOU’LL BE GUILTY FOREVER. YOU’LL BE A ROTTEN MAN, JOHN STOKE, AND YOU’LL NEVER FORGET IT. IF YOU REFUSE TO SPIT ME OUT NOW, IT WILL BE THE GREAT STAIN THAT DEFINES THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. THE CHOICE IS YOURS: ARE YOU GOOD, OR EVIL? ANSWER NOW!”

John could take it no longer. He fell to his hands and knees, pushed on his stomach, and wretched. Max was harshly jostled around and nearly squished flat, but he soon found himself flying back through John’s esophagus in a torrent of acid. Max was thrown from his maw in a pool of steaming bile, still shaking from the pain and terror of digestion. John caught him in his hand a few meters from his mouth, soaking his own paws in digestive juices. He looked at the adorable little man for a few seconds, wondering how he could have ever considered destroying such a precious life, and gave him one last bittersweet kiss goodbye. He opened the room’s exit door and placed Max in the hall.

“Go. Just go. I don’t want you to waste your potential serving a dumb, selfish brute like me. Get out of here, and go be a great man. Don’t look back. Do whatever you want for whatever reason you want, and be happy with your people. Follow your conscience, and whatever you do, don’t let yourself become anyone’s slave,” growled John, choking on his own misery.

Max stayed in the doorway, staring awestruck upon the towering mass of tear-soaked fur that trembled before him in guilt and the sorrow of a final parting. The doberman stood silently in disbelief: was the cruel beast, who had been melting him into a puddle minutes before, letting him leave with no strings attached? Unable to muster the words to thank him, he gave John a grateful nod.

“What are you waiting for?” boomed the giant, “Be free!”

John turned away and buried his face in his arms, breathing deeply. Max watched him in simultaneous sympathy and incomprehension for a few minutes, then he shut the door. He fell to his knees and took some time to regain his own composure, crying a bit more himself before dusting off his coat and ascending the stairs.

_______

A week passed, but Max found himself unable to keep John out of his mind. To his shock, he missed the big lug. One night, he returned to the plant. The hole he had torn in the fence had neither been noticed nor patched up, and the security camera was still disabled. He snuck back into the building the same way as last time. He opened the door to John’s room, and knocked on the wall.

“Hey, are you awake?”

“Max?” asked a familiar voice, clearly unsure whether he was dreaming.

“Yeah, it’s me. I found myself thinking about how lonely you must be over here, and I decided to come check up on you. How are you doing?“

“Just getting my affairs in order for when the cops show up. I don’t plan to fight back. Other than that, same ol’, same ol’.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have bothered. I’m not going to tell a soul what happened here as long as I live.”

The morose fox perked right up at the news as the weight of imminent death was lifted from his shoulders. He raised his eyebrows and blinked in surprise.

“Wait, why?”

“Because I love you, you big dummy. Now, what do you say to a little mawplay?”

John grinned predaciously: “Any time, Max, any time.”

He allowed his boyfriend to climb onto his paw, lifted him to his open maw, and allowed him to admire his great jaws for a minute. He scooped Max up with his tongue and pulled him in, bathing him in the sweet humidity the doberman had missed so dearly. And with a gentle clack, he was confined in a world of spit and muscle, submitting himself once again to John’s total control. He would spend many happy nights there over the course of his long and prosperous life, a welcome guest in the fox’s mouth in good times and bad.

Fatal ending:

Max shouted his final plea from the belly of the beast:

“JOHN, LET ME OUT NOW. MY SKIN’S COMING OFF. PLEASE, JOHN, IT HURTS. I WANT TO LIVE. I’LL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU, JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE BEFORE I DIE. I DON’T DESERVE THIS, ALL I DID WAS TAKE A COUPLE OF PICTURES. YOU ATE ME TO KEEP YOUR JOB. AM I REALLY WORTH THAT LITTLE TO YOU? DO I REALLY HAVE TO DIE JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE UNWILLING TO GO FIND A NEW HOME? I WOULD NOT HAVE HAD TO LIE IF YOU WEREN’T THREATENING TO MURDER ME. I PROMISED TO OBEY YOU IF YOU LET ME OUT, AND I’LL STAND BY THAT FOREVER. BUT EVEN IF I BROKE MY OATH, WOULD THAT WARRANT DEATH? YOU CHASTISE ME FOR MY DISHONESTY, BUT ARE YOU NOT THE ONE KILLING ME TO KEEP YOUR OWN LOCATION SECRET? WHY SHOULD I SUFFER FOR YOUR CRIMINALITY? HOW COULD YOU CLAIM TO LOVE ME, YET ACT SO SELFISH? YOU’RE THE REAL LIAR, JOHN: YOU TELL ME YOU’RE SORRY, BUT YOU GO ON DIGESTING ME ALL THE SAME. YOU SAY YOU’RE ONLY DOING THIS TO PROTECT YOURSELF, AND THAT YOU YOU DON’T ACT OUT OF HATE OR REVENGE. YET, YOU FORCE ME TO DIE A SLOW, EXCRUCIATING DEATH IN YOUR BELLY, RATHER THAN A QUICK DEATH BETWEEN YOUR TEETH. FOR HOURS AFTER I FALL STILL AND SILENT, I WILL REMAIN CONSCIOUS, FEELING MY FLESH BURNING OFF LAYER BY LAYER. HAVE YOU EVER FELT A FRACTION OF THAT AGONY? YOU’RE WILLING TO PUT ME THROUGH THIS, JUST FOR A LITTLE BIT OF MONEY? IS THIS THE MAN YOU DREAMED OF BECOMING WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG? IS THIS THE SORT OF ACT THAT WILL MAKE YOU PROUD WHEN YOU GET OLD? COUGH ME UP THIS INSTANT, YOU MONSTER, OR YOU’LL BE GUILTY FOREVER. YOU’LL BE A ROTTEN MAN, JOHN STOKE, AND YOU’LL NEVER FORGET IT. IF YOU REFUSE TO SPIT ME OUT NOW, IT WILL BE THE GREAT STAIN THAT DEFINES THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. THE CHOICE IS YOURS: ARE YOU GOOD, OR EVIL? ANSWER NOW!”

John wiped his face dry and bit his lip in a futile attempt at stoicism. He turned up the radio, hoping to drown out Max’s pleading, if not the titanic gurgles of his belly. No matter how high he set the volume, he could still feel his mate pounding on the walls of his stomach, hoping against all hope that he would let him live. His arguments for forgiveness turned into shouts of pain, and then whimpers of helplessness. But the fox kept his meal down, and the movement stopped when he eventually bled out. Max had been reduced to a gory lump floating around in his stomach acid, and his component parts drifted away from one another before melting into the homogenous goop surrounding them. John felt a load of gas rising through his chest and expelled it in a foul-smelling URRRRRRRP, spewing the tattered and bloody remains of Max’s clothing into the wall. In a second, louder belch, John threw up the bones of his prey, purged of every trace of sinew. 

“I’m sorry, Max…”

While the hound’s remains flowed through John’s intestines, he slowly regained his composure, taking his mind off of his pitiful victim and focusing instead on how he would get away with the murder. His first instinct was to get the boss’s help, so he slapped a big red button on the wall.

The boss, a 41-year-old beagle, was woken up by a ringing from his phone. 

“John, what happened? Why in God’s name are you calling me at 3 o’clock in the morning?”

“I killed a man, Norris. A reporter managed to sneak into my room, and he took pictures of me. He tried to get away, so I panicked and ate him.”

“I’ll be over there in a minute, don’t do anything stupid. Does anyone else know what happened?”

“He said he represented Kalisicana and would pay me 125% of my current wage to come with him, so I let him use the phone to make sure he was telling the truth. He told his guys that he found a fox in a facility; assuming they knew he was coming here, they’ll be able to figure out pretty easily that I did it.”

“Goddamn it John, you stupid, greedy motherfucker. Don’t trust people who promise you easy money. And if you’re going to kill somebody, don’t let him tell anybody who or where you are. Did you leave behind any evidence of what happened?”

“I burped up his clothes. They’re super nasty.”

“Alright, leave them by the door and get the hell out of dodge. Don’t call me again, don’t come to this town again, and don’t let anybody see you leaving. Hop the border, if you can. Try to stay on rocky ground, so you don’t leave footprints, and if you have to walk in the sand, make sure to mess up your tracks. Goodbye.”

Norris hung the phone up, arriving at the plant a couple dozen minutes later. John had disappeared, as he was directed, and had left behind Max’s slightly-digested attire in the specified location. Norris washed the blood out as best he could, stuck the old rags in the dryer, and left the building.

The clock struck 4. Norris pulled over behind the cemetery, proceeding to set ladders against the cast iron fence so he could get in and out discreetly. He trudged quietly through the graveyard’s depressing aisles, shining his flashlight over the gravestones in search of a recently-deceased corpse; he did not fancy the idea of handling anything decomposed. Eventually, he spotted the burial site of some fellow with a very doberman-like name, who had lived from 1940 to 1971. Bingo! It took him some time, and he was sweating by the end of it, but he managed to uncover the coffin, and found a perfectly-preserved canine cadaver within, probably interred for no longer than a month. He struggled to drag it up the ladder, and when he reached the top, he unceremoniously tossed it over the fence with a grunt of effort. He put it in a garbage bag, packed up his stuff, and sped off into the night. He made the short drive to the factory without incident, tapped his keycard against the scanner, and went inside. After switching off the power and picking up Max’s apparel, he slowly drove around outside of the complex until he found where Max had parked his car. He awkwardly slipped Max’s getup onto the corpse, jammed it halfway through the hole in the fence, and left to turn the power on. When he returned, it had been zapped beyond recognition, as intended. Next, he plastered and painted over the door to John’s room, and buried the exit tunnel with sand. He stepped out of the bulldozer, paced around the spot where the exit ramp had been, and found no trace of it. 

Quite exhausted from a long night of covering his ass, he exhaled in relief and dropped to the ground, splaying himself out in the sand to rest. He would miss John a whole awful lot, but the second Max laid eyes upon him, there was no way he would be able to stay. “John’s a crafty guy,” he assured himself, “he’ll be just fine out there.”

“Well,” he thought about the big man’s prey as he gazed upon the peaceful starry sky, “at least that nosy cunt won’t come snooping around here again.”