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[The Last Commissions] Big Wargreymon Stroll
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justin1029
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[The Last Commissions] The Nikojo Trilogy

[The Last Commissions] The Tables have Turned
the_nikojo_trilogy.txt
Keywords cat 165085, anthro 134836, transformation 29048, femboy 26659, vore 22444, fantasy 19241, magic 18748, macro 14188, tf 8750, death 7885, micro 7877, teeth 7087, pov 6479, size 5656, witch 4913, shoes 4466, stream 4028, succubus 3908, digestion 3368, mage 2504, world 1656, stomp 1486, sneakers 1424, justin 619, shoe 614, trample 212, isekai 39, nikojo 1
You wake up. You’re in the middle of a valley of endlessly dancing grass, inked in green, yet so velvety, caressed by winds so calm from the vastness of those horizons just before your eyes. What is this? You were only minding your own business a few minutes ago, as a god, before everything blacked out. A dream? It does certainly feel as delectable as one. Grass usually goes raspier than this, and you do certainly remember it to be far more... green. The turquoise, even cyan-like stain which washes across, it does not belong to anything from planet Earth. Have you been, effectively, sent into another world? Under skies that somehow feel currently unreachable, you witness clouds being as colourful as those formed by ink when small drops dissolve into clear waters, the shapes are mesmerizing. For a moment, you relax into this dream.

But then something comes off even more relaxing than the spectacular visuals. From behind your shoulder, a familiar touch warms your senses kindly. The velvety touch of pink-colored pawpads, slowly sweeping past the silhouette of your shoulder, reaching also from the opposite arm, ending up gently curled at the sides of your cheeks.

 - "Ara ara~, are we getting another witch for today? This one looks sweet. And godly~"

Averted by the sound of this voice, nearly as treble as that of a mezzosoprano, you turn around to meet a gorgeous creature. Sitting elegantly, dressed in a long red coat reminiscent of the one used by Freya, his pawpads massage onto your face, stealing you the chance to actually ask what is going on, the comfort is enough for you to remain silent for thirty seconds or so. His fur comes in two main colors, as it happens with most foxes and mice. The most external zones are washed in a slightly dark pink close to the hue of violet, while those zones pertaining to the chest, belly, snout, and the portion between thighs rather come in a sand-like carnation pink.

 - "You've arrived at a proper time, darling, I have to part towards a very very distant place, and I need someone to take care of this city. I know I can entrust this endeavour to you, right? Sweetie?"

His voice comes in close, along with his snout. Those lips, washed in the same carnation and cerise of his chest, come to rest against your forehead, as the mouse comes to kneel next to you so that your head is cradled against his chest. You realize this is no normal mouse, as vampire-like wings come from his sides, nearly draping around you. But the wings lack spikes, the surface is rather like that of velvet. Does this mean he is rather, a succubus?

 - "No time to lose~ Have this. Witch. Beam~"

The succulent whisper warms your ear up. But more than the steaming heat of his luscious breath, you feel the warmth of a pink beam extending across your body. What is this magic? It does feel... nice. The mouse keeps his finger pointed at you, the beam being more of a glow which kindly soothes your body. As you stand up, as he moves away, you can feel his frame becoming... smaller. Like, at first, you could tell he was slightly shorter than you, but now with every step he moves away, it is like he grows several inches shorter. But then you realize the horizon line stops feeling unreachable; little by little, it is like those towering skies rather feel closer, like you're in a transparent elevator and just witnessing how distances get shorter and shorter.

 - "There. End of the witch beam. You look precious darling~ Either case, time for me to go. Remember to take care of the city~ Nyabye!"

Wait. What does he mean by taking care of the city? You try to stop him, but his frame vanishes before your eyes, most likely transported somewhere else through magic. As you give one step beyond, you realize the very soil beneath your paws shakes violently. Huh? What is this? You move your head and body around, only to realize those long strands of grass now look like a small ocean beneath you, so undistinguishable before your eyes.

You also realize that, from behind your back, a white appendage follows you at every turn. Is this... the tail of a cat? Wait, it is but, YOU are rather the cat now! By turning around, you also realize there's a gigantic city, like a combination between fantasy and modern architecture protected by seemingly impenetrable walls. At the same time, you have to tilt your head down in order to actually inspect the walls. Did the beam get you as large as the walls themselves? Even the tallest buildings in the city do not feel taller than your shoulders. And the walls are as clean and polished you can actually see yourself reflected upon them.

You... are... enormous. Gigantic. Colossal. But also, you've become far more embellished. You get to realize that your snout has now thoroughly become like that of a feline, with the tip of fangs now as large as trailers shyly peeking past the curtains of your lips. Yellow scleras, with a hue much closer to that of citrine and golden fill your eyes, while your irises have become of the same brown than byzantine bronze. Your eyebrows now look like trim, thin lines, extending above your eyes and complementing the new curves on your body. You can tell you are a male, the width of your shoulders exceeding that of your hips, but at the same time every new curve looks so feminine, sculpted gorgeously.

Then there is a dress, with a different variant than that coating your body, extending from beneath your collarbones to a little past your knees. You are now the big, large witch sporting those white sneakers, as apparently the beam did also include those white sport shoes to cover your now imposing pawpads. Past your calves, underneath the white sneakers, there lies a big portion of fur at where it progressively grows shorter, down until there is only a smooth, nearly velvet like paw beans, positioned at where your toes, ankle and soles are. The angles are curved and sensual, you can actually curl your toes in ways akin to how birds manage to leverage some grip; if doing so, you can see small supple folds forming in said beans. Your claws are retracted, and if you are to extend them, they go as far as gigantic guillotines and battleaxes might; the back of your ankles have a large range of motion, you can walk as a plantigrade or step up elegantly as a digitigrade; in case of the later, your toes contract a little more, causing the claws to nearly disappear under the white fluff. At the same time, the muscles above your insole are tight, you can see the tendons and muscles strongly forming bulges underneath the elastic skin. Fluffy, delectable, yet so deadly. Your middle, sweetly draped by a blue corset, breathes in and out enthusiastically, as you can even watch literal clouds forming every time you exhale. The corset, along with the shawl-like drapery around your shoulders, and the lace-like fine features across the skirt, are all of the same blue of the coat you used to wear. The natural white, more of a cool beige, mixes well with this attire. Now you feel like it’s done and proceed to take care of the city. Not your fault the mouse did not specify just exactly how to take care of it, right?

The walls of the city rattle as you move in. Your ears get washed by a quick rupture of the continuous silence: now it is like all you can hear is the sudden release of panic sirens and then the screams of the people inside. There's sure a lot of people in, right? The metal pillars of such a place are made to stand earthquakes, but you getting closer hits them with a magnitude higher than a 9.0 in the Richter scale. Since there's no door to get in, you make one by merely leaning your weight on it. Your hand simply scrapes through, the debris of broken glass, of detaching blocks of iron and concrete, quickly forms a cloud which expands across your feet. Huh? The place did sure look like it would last longer. Now you playfully move your fingers across this edification, making all of its windows and core get turned to literal dust and shrapnel. It is as funny as popping the little bubbles that protects Amazon packages, right?

 - "Wait! Please! I beg of you! Oh, Grand Witch who has come to our city! What can we do to please you and have your wrath stop from falling on our innocent... ...."

You hear the voice of someone speaking through a megaphone to communicate with you. For some reason amid their plea, the sound comes to a halt. You tilt your head over the wall, after all, the only thing you need is to stand on the tips of your now versatile feline toes to see what's at the other side. A second ago, it looked like entire masses of people flooded away from you, all of them as small as little ants with little to no difference from each other, their lives appearing so fragile in comparison to your godly might.

 - "So?"

You ask around, the megaphone must be somewhere else, but after like twenty seconds of silence, the seas of people instead come to flock back towards you. It is like they want to come close to you or something. Waiting patiently, you peel away the rest of the wall and set yourself in, doing away with a few hundreds in the process, after all, nobody can stand getting hit by building fragments from such a high distance, let alone the weight of the fragments alone.

 - "God... our god... our godly witch... please allow us to worship your glorious paws..."

Huh? Did they actually just say that? You cannot blame them, they must all have good taste, as it takes being a connoisseur to appreciate paws like yours. You sit on the half-demolished wall, at least the part that did not immediately cave in after your entrance, and then get your hands on those gigantic shoes. After doing so, you just throw them away, your aim is kind of bad, so you accidentally end up getting several hundreds squeezed under their weight, for them it does feel like getting trampled by something of the size of a cargo ship. Watery clouds, like those forming from boiling water, emanate from your divine paws as people flock in to quickly kneel at.

Then it becomes clear as to what actually happens. Now you are a witch; on top of being a divine entity, passive properties have imbued your body from the inside out. The breeze generated by the warm steam of your paws is imbued with tiny droplets of your sweat. The sweat of witches does seem to have hypnotic effects on those mortals who come to breathe it in. Even if it was only the small amounts of sweat generated after your small walk, for them, it is like getting hit by the wind of the seas. You can feel their tongues, their lips, their hands, counting by the thousands, melting in the innate desire to worship something that is BIGGER than their small little lives, and so, onto your pawpads that now have acquired the hue of celeste blue and whose surface has come to glow with those drops of sweat. You lean your hands back, this should do, letting those poor souls find meaning to their lives by devoting to your paws. But you get curious about the city; if those walls were their maximum defense, then it means the houses and buildings are considerably weaker, right? It did already feel like a cinch to do away with the walls, you wonder just how fragile their other buildings will feel under your fingers. Thus, without minding the countless lives beneath, you stand up and begin to walk bare foot.

Dangling. Writhing. Flinching in despair. With their hands placed onto the very pawpads and toes they worshipped moments ago, they ask themselves, and voice it loudly, what did they do to receive this treatment? It is not like you can afford to care either, now that you walk past those buildings, your fur might be soft, the surface of your pawpads might be smooth, but it is not enough to spare those who end up beneath. The crumbling edifications, the screams of those who find the sun eclipsed by the silhouette of a massive, gigantic paw inevitably stepping upon them. But this is all like just a silly melody for you; you walk past towards the capital, doing away with however many citizens are in the middle. Your stomach, as large as a house, now begins to get peckish and crave for those little souls, thus you move in closer. The devious smile in your lips cannot be erased~

But so is the fate of those who are not larger than ants, at least before your eyes. The city is like any other normal city, with smaller buildings and houses spread in the outermost parts, as those neighbouring the city perimeter are basically slums that oh so easily get flattened under your pawpads, and then what comes next are the suburbs and then the larger buildings where the richer and their workers live. You can tell those buildings took not only years but monstrous amounts of wealth to get built, as the designs are rather intricate, reminding you of abstract architecture. You put your fingers upon and then, poof, like scrapping snowflakes from the top of a car, or leaves from a yard, it all collapses like there's nothing holding it up. Yeah, there's iron, steel, titanium, and iridium here and there, but under your fingers, it honestly does feel like paper.

People come off the buildings, a lot feel like running for their lives but stop as soon as the salty magic aroma from your pawpads flows into their noses. From the first whiff, it is like the effect goes full onto their senses, and even those who cares the most for their own lives or those of their loved ones, they begin to crawl towards you, reverencing your gigantic frame, a massive genuflexion followed by a devoted crawl. How kind of them! It’s snacking time for you. Leaning down, as if to scoop sand from the shores, your hands carve holes on the asphalt and the cobblestone of those collapsing streets, and come back with handfuls of those people, some even accidentally squashed by your grip. You even come to feel the tiny pops, cracks, and crunches of their fragile bodies unable to stand your might; it does not matter, because you open wide and then all of them get to stare into the depths of your feline mouth.

The white teeth, despite being so white, offered before their eyes textures akin to that of a cavern, because despite perfection, at this scale, they can even see the small traces of imperfections across your denture. You drop them in. You taste the muddy flavor of annihilated concrete, but also the bodily flavors of all those tasty walking snacks. As soon as the effect of your magical sweat wears off, as soon as their lungs start to get filled with the incredibly hot and oh so stagnant texture of your breath, they panic back, but they can't do anything other than to gasp and count their blessings, as their furs become permeated and then inundated by your saliva. For them, your saliva is as thick as an overly saturated combination of glycerine, jello, and honey. They can't help but wind up submerged or entrapped within those gooey webs, as much as ants cannot help but succumb to the sticky surface of an anteater.

As you swallow, you get the same sensation you feel when eating pop rocks. Their spines, hands, knees, many parts of their bodies cannot stand the grasp of your throat muscles. It is not like they immediately die, as the surface is still soft enough to not instantly obliterate them right there, but then a worse fate awaits, because, right there, right beneath your beautiful dress, beneath the cleavage, beneath your pecs, there lies a set of eight abs, eight perfect godly abs, and, somewhere inside, there's a large cauldron of acids impatiently waiting to be filled. Their screams are so loud you somehow get to listen to them even with all the muscle, fur and fabric between them and your ears. It must be the size of your ears. You are already grabbing another handful, and as you smother them with your tongue into the dark depths at the back of your tongue, you see how in the close horizon, further seas of people flock in. Is the city, in all of its fullness, evacuating in order to meet your paws? How kind of them~

It does actually take you twenty good handfuls to actually shove most of them into your belly. The rest... well… You are not being very gentle about this; it’s not like they deserve it either, so let’s say you accidentally step on a hundred or two while going in for the next bite. What used to be the city's inner square is now full of debris and the imprints of your pawpads. Soon, it is like the place has been thoroughly turned into a ghost city. Your belly is not even full, as you let out a belch you shove in the largest of their buildings as a punishment for not having the numbers to actually have filled you up. Actually, your disappointment for this translates into the entire city getting destroyed. But your size alone is enough to have every building collapse like they're not better than sandcastles. What only an hour ago was a gigantic city now is only a cloud of dust in the map. You walk off in order to avoid getting your white dress dirty from so much dust and end up resting onto a hill that conveniently has the reclining angle of a couch. Rubbing at your belly, you close your eyes, drifting for a nap.

 - "Oi. I told you to take care of the city, not to unleash the Armageddon upon 'em! Eh, no biggies sweetie, this can help us scare the other cities into surrendering to our witch organization. Want to have some ice cream after this?"

You wake up, your head cradled on the lap of this mouse who has now returned. You smile sheepishly, the lives of some hundreds of thousands done away by accident. You giggle, technically not your fault, but who cares either, the mouse succubus takes you in to get some really tasty ice cream after this~

---

Walking by, meeting horizons sprinkled in different colours, you are taken by hand, into far distant lands. Away from the strife left behind, away from those fields, heat becomes a little more present, and so you can see the horizons becoming imbued with hues of blue and sand. You're now closer to the shores, the continental outline. The hand of the succubus that was so gently bringing you here lets go of your fingers as he turns his head in to speak to your ear.

 - "Now now, darling, I think we can avoid... a bit of calamities if this time, we have you approach them with their same size. Those tiny, little, feeble creatures, they get scared so easily when witnessing the gigantic proportions of us witches. It is cute to see them being afraid, right? But, at the same time, we cannot simply just wipe out all their cities, for who would pay tribute then?"

His magic breath caresses your ears as he says those words, you're then left on your own as he goes away to do, some witchy business somewhere else, not without giving you first a small heart-shaped chocolate for the good luck~ uwu

As you progressed onwards, donning a 5'6'' height to start, the magical grass grows scarcer as you approach the coastal city. The looks are different, possibly a different sort of civilization. Instead of large walls, now you get to see castle-like stone, towers connected by something akin to a dam, the aesthetics remind you of castles which could be found across all of the United Kingdom back at planet Earth. As you step in, vegetation turns more into bushes, clovers, and plenty of berry growths. This is not the sort of sunny beach you'd find near the tropics, but rather the solemn, Nordic like sort of beach which has deep dark blues in its landscapes.

As you walk in closer, neither sand nor dust can stain your shoes. It is like a small, invisible magical field prevents them from getting dirty, as it would not be fitting for a divine figure such as yours. You can see a full display of the courts in the outskirts of the city. The gates are closed, but you can see columns and rows of people waiting for you. You can tell plenty of them are mages, as they all sport long closed robes with fine scholar-like lace around their necks and embroidered decorations across the black, blue, and emerald attires. There are warriors too, most of them are wolves whose size doubles the one displayed by the mages: the former are all short guys and girls not taller than six feet, while their warriors are massive war machines standing at 12 feet or more. The more important figures are centered and sitting in a sort of temporal barricade. Magnific! Its like they've prepared a welcoming party for you!

 - "Oh, hi guys!" - you decide to wave your hand cheerfully, greeting them with the biggest of your smiles and fancily walk towards them-

 - "Stop, stop right where you are! We know what happened to the last city you went to, and in the name of the Holy Vine Star, we won't allow you to do as you please in here. Forces of the Holy Vine Star Court, attack at full force!"

Oh well. It doesn't look like it was a welcoming party that they had in mind. Before you can say anything else, the mages point their staffs towards you, and like fireworks, a myriad of electrifying, shining blue spells get directed towards you, gigantic balls of pure destructive energy condensed in indigo and emerald-blue orbs approaching you at bullet speed. Honestly, you flinch for a second, but as soon as they come in close, the invisible field which surrounds you as a witch becomes activated and all those offensive spells get turned into little marshmallows as soon as they trespassed the thin magical film.

Boop. Your body gets hit with little marshmallows. You laugh at this, picking a couple of those up and throwing them in your mouth. It is almost like they're asking for it at this point. Well, they make it clear peace is not an option as they continue to attack you with all sorts of fireballs, sparkling thunders, beams, ice spikes and even magical hand grenades. On your side, it gets kind of silly, seeing them all transformed into little pieces of candy as the mages get worn out rather fast, sweating and even shuddering as they witness how their destructive magic gets reduced to nothing.

You've been around for a while, enough to have learned how the spell-making goes; actually, for witches, it is all about feeling the magic instead of processing it logically as it would happen with wizards. Thus, you point your finger towards the sky and allow the cryptid magic forces of the underworld to come do the job for you. A veil of darkened mist ascends from the floor, the court forces look around, scared, realizing something bad is about to happen, but before they can call it quits from the ascending misty shades, dark-glowing portals erupt, all from forbidden pentagrams whose igniting colours are close to those of darkened blue, burgundy and diamond. Portals thus come to be, and, from those, darkened tentacles spread towards them, and like little fireflies snatched by the tongues of frogs, they all become immobilized by eldritch-like tentacles.

- "Well, it looks like someone needs a lesson to be taught around here~" - you tell them, confidently, cheerfully walking in close. As you hear some bones snapping, this makes you giggle, their bodies are so fragile they can't stand the grip of the tentacles. But this is just the beginning.

You just get them bonded for the good things to come. So, you proceeded to start growing in height. Along with your body, your precious sneakers and your dress come to bloom in supreme proportions. Their faces can only stare with mouths and eyes wide open, witnessing how your height soon comes to exceed their tallest warriors, and then you come to get as tall as their tallest tower. And then some. They do even basically come to witness a full lunar eclipse; not at the hands of the moon, but by your own body. A gigantic, full sized femboy displayed before them. Now those white sneakers look as big as war tanks before their eyes, and to even manage to stare back at their eyes, they must tilt their heads up really up.

With a pop of your hand, the tentacles let them go. You decide to give them another chance. Warriors rush in, holding in high their battle axes, battle hammers and claymores in order to land them against your ankles. You shudder a little because it honestly tickles. You hear the war cries of those bassy and beastly throats roaring as their weapons of steel strike at full force against your toes and the outline of your sneakers. You worry for a moment about them getting scratched, as it would be unfitting for a god to have their shoe wear blemished by mere mortals, but the passive magic of witches does not cease to amaze you. Even the bravest warrior who jumps in and lands his heaviest hit against the boney side of your ankle doesn't get to do anything other than to make you giggle. You could get used to this, to the tickles, but you have something better in mind.

As the mages reload their magic and prepare bigger artifacts to strike you with, you lean down and sweep the ground with your gigantic white hand. To you, it is no different than leaning down to grab little soldier figures from a toy pack. For them, it is an unescapable grip that comes at them at a speed not even the fastest can avoid. You feel them struggling, all of them inside their enchanted and heavily forged armors. You don't take the time to strip them off those one by one; instead, you lean back a little and chuckle while sliding your precious right sneaker off, letting it fall atop of some dozens of mages, and then remove the opal opaque blue sock from your right foot. The sultry thing that helped your paw to stay warm suddenly becomes the fabric prison at where they get tossed in.

All light comes to eclipse once they are all dropped inside the sock, the air turning lukewarm and imbued with your paw scent. They immediately attempt to climb back, but you just shake the sock a little so they all collapse down towards the bottom. Once set in, you slide your titanic paw in and let every single one of them end up stuck between your toes; the luckiest end up trapped between the crevices of said toes, doomed to breathe in the salty natural smell of your paws, the ones less lucky simply get squashed as you put your sneaker back in.

You get sexy little chills running up your spine as you hear the sound of those reinforced armors merely popping as they get crushed under the weight of your toes. Perhaps one fourth of them die right there, the surviving ones only continue to struggle between your toes. You stare down to the rest of their forces. They keep trying to kill you with those puny spells. You frown at this and decide to kneel. Smirking, you show them your white fangs before their eyes. To them, they're about as large as the wheel of a truck. You bring your sneakers in. They will taste your playful wrath, with the flavor of rubber, foam, and other synthetics.

 - "Wait! We surrender! Please spare our lives, please.... AHHH!" - As you sit back cutely, you extend your feet towards them and let the weight of your sneakers cozily fall upon their fragile bodies. Of course, some of them end up a little crushed, its not like you can afford to care for those who wanted you dead at first right? You rub the tracks of your sneakers right onto their faces. The posh clothes they were wearing gets stamped with the imprints of your GODLY tread marks.

 - "Hehehe~" - you giggle at this, you giggle at their little cries, reclined against some big and resilient trees, while the majestic, polished rubber of your white sneakers forcefully caresses their robes and staves. Soon, the attack ceases either because they get injured, incapacitated, or just plainly buried between the elastic tracks of your sneakers.

At a distance like this, the elegance and beauty of your sneakers comes to show off. The blue front gets rubbed against their faces and rears, the girls squeal and so their mouths and lips end up with the bitter flavor of rubber foam rubbed against their tongues. Defeat tastes like industrial oil, and pain. The catastrophe comes colored after blue and yellow, the half glowing green of your laces, the school bus yellow of the fine features of your shoes, they never thought they'd meet defeat against the sports design of footwear. But you are also peckish today, you cannot just let them all get obliterated by the GODLY tracks of your shoes. With the graceful moves of your feline self coming in handy, you quickly crawl in forth and get two handfuls of them before they can really start running away. You grin, your smile then starts to part, they all get to feel the breeze of your magical breath come off tantalizing and ready to claim their lives behind the pointy teeth inundated with the glistening saliva of your gums...

-

Hello, my name is Erikku, I am a courier working for the royal court and the royal crown of the Star Vine empire. This is almost a normal day for me. I did see the troops getting mobilized earlier today, it was like the biggest shots in the city got called for something at the main gate. I've seen this happening before, sometimes nothing happens as they rather get called for welcoming ceremonies when ambassadors of other kingdoms walk in. But for some other times, it only means war is coming. I try to wash the thoughts off my mind and continue to mind only my business. Today, I only have to deliver special tax papers from government offices to the royal treasury building. An easy job.

But then I start to hear the sound of people screaming. I freeze for a second. P-people scream when they're at happy carnivals, right? As the sound increases in magnitude and volume, I want to believe it’s just people who are all at a happy carnival. But the screams turn rawer and scary, my own limbs begin to shudder, and my sweat starts to turn in cold. I am a secretary bird, a sturdy eagle guy who delivers confidential letters for merchants, the courts, and bankers. I should be spared in case things go south, right?

But as I turn my eyes to check what's going on, I realize that a gigantic figure that wasn't there, suddenly eclipses a lot of the light that should come from the sun. Never again in my life I've swallowed saliva so hard. How can such a colossal and magnificent figure have so suddenly manifested at the gates of our city? Is this the day of judgement? He doesn't even look like a normal colossus; despite his size, he can move with the same ease than a normally sized creature. Huh, what's that, why is he wearing sneakers? What did we do for the gods to come at our place with sneakers and a dress?

I stand on a small box that was next to the road. In this kingdom, all roads are ornamented with cobblestone. There are octagonal lampposts and arcs scattered everywhere, so that the people of the courts and even tourists have a good time travelling across our streets while watching our architecture and merchandise. The giant is coming towards here. Oh god. What should I do? I look at the bag I am carrying. It was nearly forty pounds worth of treasury letters and perhaps even kingly orders, but if this place gets obliterated, then who will care about the taxes that got paid? I turn my head back and realize the gigantic green lace is still holding those sneakers smoothly around the gigantic pawpads, it hurts me seeing that the giant actually has good taste, those are good sneakers, godly I'd even say, but he's coming here.

I drop the mail. I drop anything heavy. Even the rapier I was given for self defense, nothing will do anything against him. I feel the mass of people running towards the same place I am at. It’s like watching a desperate stampede of black shadows coming at me nonstop. I also begin to run. Under my breath, I curse not having ran more, cause my stamina is kind of bad. But alas, the punishment of the gods is upon me, I heart the rattling noise of glass and metal shivering as the expansive wave of each of his gigantic steps shakes everything from the ground up. I cannot fall. I look back once again, and I see him quickly moving down in order to scoop the floor and get a handful of lives for himself. I stare in horror realizing he's opening his mouth in order to eat them alive. As he throws them into a mouth that looks as large as the entrance of a cavern, I realize we're all so tiny we aren't even fit for munching, for he is instead swallowing them like little jellybeans.

Little tears come off the corners of my eyes, tiny drops of drool come off the commissures of my beak, I am exhausted, I am scared, I did actually hear the waving and slickening noise of his throat encompassing all those lives in one sonorous and single GULP. Turning my head back, there's less people in the stampede. No matter how much I run, he can easily cover a hundred yards in one step. And for him, this looks like just a bristle walk, barely. Those grubby hands drape those murderous fingers around more and more, the less physically apt end up as the first ones devoured, then some people start getting past me, those in the military and police forces, they're faster, in horror I realize I am now part of the mass of people that is next in the execution round. I...

AAAAH! He's got me! He's got me! I see white fur surrounding me, and despite the whiteness of the colour, everything turns dark once the fist encapsulates my poor soul along with some other dozens of people. My face, smothered against the belly or the elbow of someone else, I cannot even tell where the zenith and the nadir are, I am simply turned around like a small toy at the hands of a god, rays of light pierce through the crevices between his fingers enough for me to see hands, tails and pawpads squirming, everyone wants to be free, everyone wants to make it home but...

But the next thing that comes right after his hand spreads open is a brief glimpse of what will be my tomb. I look at a slender belly, a belly as large as a government building, towering upwardly past beautiful shoulders, and then the angelical face of a cat feminine boy who however has jaws so large I can barely process all of the details. Fangs, white fangs that however are as large and as thrilling as the stalagmites and stalactites of a large cave, a tongue larger than the largest carpet at the king's court, saliva burbling up in proportions that go beyond any foam I ever got to see forming at the shores. And then the endless darkness at the back of his throat.

Gravity. Gravity is what keeps us all down, and what eventually brings us all down. I end up brought down by gravity, and so my fall gets cushioned by the softness of his tongue. I continue panting, as this was the longest and most desperate run I had in my life. I know it will be the last. I try to catch my breath, but by doing so, I breathe in this second-hand breath that populates this feline's mouth. It isn't bad, the smell isn't bad at least, but the volume is asphyxiating. The atmosphere is hot, as hot as a hot sunny day, but the humidity is so excruciating it almost feels like I'm getting waterboarded with nearly condensate vapours. The breath is so dense it feels like coming from a pressurized boiling cauldron.

I try to crawl. I don't want to be eaten. I feel people screaming and doing the same. But the surface of the tongue is smooth, and the saliva acts like oil, deflecting and minimizing friction. Even if I try to use my small, feathered claws to gain some traction I start to simply slide down. It’s no use. Like a car wheel stuck on mud, my attempts to climb up are negated by the saliva. The floating droplets, they are mesmerizing. Am I coming to accept this? Before my mind can get further converted by this magical breath, all light disappears behind the silhouette of two godly rows of teeth closing in. Then, behind his lips, my fate is sealed, the tongue ascends until my back lies against the ridged palate, saliva sprays in, gets all over my feathers making them get heavier, I am at my limit... I can’t...

I let go. I let myself go. I close my eyes; it makes no difference. I feel the stranded webs of drool getting in the way. Some are thick enough to hold me back, but the downward peristaltic wave is way too strong. It is like an abyss opens right beneath me while the walls close before my very eyes, snakelike and serpentine, the flesh encloses me like a collapsing tunnel, but instead of getting buried, I get shoved in. Heat increases, drool goes thicker, the air starts to get caustic. I am still panting, my body is so tired, I however cannot recover now that oxygen is so scarce. The collapse is enough to deafen me, the pounding sound of a gigantic heart which does not spare my little soul, the slickening noises akin to eggs getting beaten by hand fill my ears more than the sound of those screaming souls...

Until I suddenly get tossed into a living wasteland. I am, for once, allowed to move freely, if only for a moment, before getting submerged beneath a thick yet aqueous paste. My arms flail around instinctively. What is this? I swim, or rather, waddle across this substance, trying to look for something to get this mess of my body. But the walls are smooth, wrinkled, coated in a sort of drool that is ten times more slippery and thicker than the saliva of his mouth. Then I realize it starting to burn. Like ember less fire, it burns. At first, I think this is just water that is very heated, but, no... one by one, for minutes and minutes to come, I feel how my feathers begin to fall and, in turn, this muddy substance begins to sizzle at my virgin skin.

With horror, I realize that the mud I waddle across is made from the flesh of other victims like me. The smell in the air is caustic, but more than its pungency is its own acidity what makes me cough. It’s like breathing tear gas. My eyes cry both from fear and pain, I feel the irritation in my larynx and pharynx. People scream out of horror and pain, but their screams get cut; you cannot let your lungs out when airways get irritated like this, the agonizing screaming turns into some sort of combined retching and squealing. Everyone is dying. And then the walls which I try to climb suddenly begin to close in. Now, it’s most likely gonna churn. I beg for a quick death after realizing those walls are gonna churn me, and so a lot of us, along with the sea of corpses beneath me, begin to get crushed. My ears get surrounded with the raining noise of bones cracking, of joints popping... but since I am in the middle, I only get smothered, I am not lucky enough to die right here.

Soon, more people arrive in, and soon I begin to get buried under their weight. Some kick, some grab at me in order to climb. I cannot blame them; I do the same. This is hell. But as my head stays for too long beneath the chyme level, I feel how I slowly begin to shut down... too bad this goes on, hurting and hurting, until I am just a jerking and twitching half dead body floating and sizzling...

-

 - "Uuurp. If they didn't want to invite me, then I guess I just make myself in. This is what they get for not worshiping me on sight, lol"

Placing a hand on your belly, a belly that is now nearly full of all of the victims you've consumed, you come to rest at the middle of the center square, now deserted with a few corpses here and there, the rest digesting in your belly. Since this city wasn't friendly, you know Amoure won't be mad at you for destroying it. Curling your toes, you feel all those screams fading little by little as your stomach gurgles them away, even the stains of blood did not blemish your perfect sneakers, this has been a fun, lewd day.
________

A few hours after that one city got reduced to a wasteland, and after the few remaining survivors ran away, you were met by Amoure, who walked among the debris and the rubble, some of the structures still collapsing like sand castles as he makes his way in.

 - "Ara ara, it seems like this city did not agree either. Care to tell me how it went though?"

You explain to Amoure that you were kind at first, but they did attack you on sight. The mouse nods and then walks off with you.

 - "Well, as I said, there's not much of guilt in there when they strike in first. So, this is what your new home will be. Every witch is capable of generating their own labyrinth. And, inside, there's often familiars made from fragments of your soul, so that even when you're alone, you never actually get alone."

The succubus explains you as you two walk over a rather empty plain. It is not completely devoid of life; there's grass, mountains, and lakes, although there's not one single sign of anything man-made, or, so to say, anything built. Then, the succubus grabs your hand by the wrist, and moves it up so that you can touch the wind.

 - "Grasp now, darling~"

His voice says so, and so, you can feel your hand getting a hold of anything. Despite seemingly being nothing, you feel something akin to a latch. You pull back, and, along with it, a door gets opened, out of thin air, as if the wind itself parted and a portal to another dimension fleshes before your very eyes.

The wooden door is coated with decorations which remind you of mandalas and other ornaments from past centuries. Although, since this place is imbued with your soul, the aesthetics are largely dominated by what your own preferences come to, thereupon you see a lot of bright, joy-eliciting colours mixed with rainbow like cascades dominating those walls.

 - "Here. Come in. Whenever you feel like taking a more... private rest, you can always access your own labyrinth by opening a door like this~"

The succubus grabs your hand and brings you inside. Once the door is closed, you two walk past a small corridor leading to a hall, and what seems to be a large dining table. Since your imagination is populated with imagery of cities, the architectural designs of western cities get replicated in the ceilings, windows, floors, and furniture of this place; there's a prevalence of grays, the same ones from skyscrapers in American and Canadian cities, and also there's saturated yellows and glowing greens, all of course, beautifully mixed with the metal-like grays.

 - "Hmm. Interesting. It seems that the moment your labyrinth formed, random inhabitants of this and other worlds were immediately abducted and brought here like this" - the mouse points out after holding in his hand a flask containing a trapped micro, namely, a small little coyote guy.

Then Amoure extends his arms, showing how there are flasks alike scattered through the place, even some that are like part of the decorations. The crystal prisons take in different shapes: flasks, spheres like Christmas ones, prisms, and some other regular, geometrical forms. Most of them are in shock, not understanding why they suddenly got imprisoned like that, let alone for the change in scale, each of them being now as tall as the length of any of your fingers.

 - "Let’s see what kind of familiars were created with your spirit. Ah, this is a pretty sculpture, don't you think?" - the mouse says while walking towards a mid sized eagle marble bust placed right before the great table in this dinner room. Sultrily, he rubs the underside of the chin, as if to awaken the familiar.

Then, the bust begins to glow. From it, a mimic-like spirit emerges, although the spirit is capable of speech.

 - "Oh, new master Nikojo, I'll be pleased to be among your familiars." - the anthropomorphic eagle says. While eyeing down the flask held by the mouse, it smirks and then opens his beak a little wide, pointing a finger inside, as if to indicate Amoure to pour in the little soul.

 - "Ara ara, it seems like your familiars are already craving for sacrifices. I'm sorry little coyote, but I even familiars need to get fed."

 - "NO, WAIT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! I AM A LAWYER, I AM AN IMPORTANT LAWYER ON AN IMPORTANT BOARD OF INVESTORS, YOU CANNOT DO THIS, I'LL REWARD YOU GREATLY, AH, DON'T!!!" - squirming, held only by one leg, the small micro dangles from the playful fingers of the succubus who then proceeds to dump it inside the gaping maw of the eagle. Whatever else were his screams about, they get silenced as the beak closes in hungrily, followed by a strong and powerful GULP that sends the small poor soul down into a hungry empty stomach... well, "empty", as it is full of acids.

 - "Cute~ Now now, lets see if we have trans-dimensional wifi in here. We should. I have a convey with trans-world internet providers. I wonder if there's a high spec PC in here. You see, even when we don't use electricity to power up our technology in this world, we have magic instead, that is more efficient and... ah... here it is!" - the mouse muses while walking past a few doors with empty rooms inside, until he finds one room that is stuffed to the brim with led and neon lights, a room of white walls that however looks more like a paradise of violets, pinks, blues and yellows, since the led and neon lights bounce endlessly against said walls, creating in erotic gradients - "Fufufu, its like we have a room set up for you to have a trans-galactic onlyfans~"

There is one huge gaming chair in front of the 50 inch monitor. The mouse turns it up, and nearly immediately sets the camera in. The broadcast and the bandwidths of several, millions of connections get interrupted across countries, worlds, planets and dimensions. Even at Times Square in New York, the giant screens get their imagery interrupted by your personal webcam.

 - "My, it seems like we can set up a real, real show in here~ Ahem, my name is Amoure the succubus, and the feline handsome boy in here is Nikojo~ Now now, I apologize for interrupting your boring, mortal lives but, I think its time to show you some of what might eventually happen to you. Here, look at all these scared little people, what should we do with then, Nik?" - the mouse asks, while holding a handful of those flasks, about twelve micros pleading for their lives and bouncing their fists against the transparent walls.

 - "Well, Amore. I think from what I remember when I was in the real world is that in internet streams, there are chat sections. I think we got ourselves our first live viewers! And I think they're already helping us decide, based on their suggestions! Let's see here...
Hey, chat! You got any ideas?"

You tell that with your face straight to the camera. The people in planet Earth, however, start replying by the hundreds of thousands via all of the streaming platforms, namely Youtube, Facebook, Onlyfans and Twitch.

 - "So, Amoure, what are they saying?"

 - "Vell~ About 99% of them are pleading for their lives and asking for them to be spared. How... predictable. But, but but but, 1% are actually proposing interesting things. Ara ara, we have some sweet pervs in here, lets allow the fate of some people be decided by those creative minds~"

 - "So, what are the choices, Amoure?"

 - "Sata, sate sate sate... some are asking you to show paws; others, others want to entrap them under your paws... oh, it looks like we'll have a donation competition, because some just want them stepped upon, others want a total deadly crushing."

 - "Sounds nice. Let’s have the options be... Donation choice, Magic, Entrapment, Insoles, Stomps, Vore, and Paws." - you tell them, while using magic to pull out a roulette out of nowhere, one that you immediately set to spin.

The eyes of the world are set on the spinning wheel, their jaws are hinging, their eyes cannot blink, because they know that nearly whatever the outcome is, it will be cruel for those whose fate is about to get determined by a mere colorful wheel. Messages begging for it to stop flood in, but Amoure swipes them left while only leaving on screen those of the pervs interested in what is to come.

 - "Ara ara, it looks like the only alternative fate has left us with are... insoles. Hey, familiars, come here at once, we're gonna need your manpower.. I mean, your pawpower for this one~"

And so, Amoure proceeds to remove his own footwear; he, being the femboy he is, only has his feet surrounded by crimson elegant embroidery, stockings-like thin fabric spread down to the tip of his toes that were bare from start, he pulls the two things out, and sits on a gaming chair of his own. The rest of the procedure is not manual: by clicking his fingers, he has the micros float out of their containers, and then hover beneath his insoles, in order to get strapped with elegant, black shinning leather.

You sit down and lean your arms back, as you let the fun unravel like this; by merely grinding the back of your ankles against each other, you remove the white Godly sneakers, and so your feet get exposed enough for the micros to get tied against; one of the familiars, the eagle one that COINCIDENTALLY looks a lot like the eagle macro god of your Fur Affinity gallery, also sits down and, onto his more avid insole, a third set of micros gets bandaged against the soles.

There are a lot of protests from the micros. After all, they are about to get set in a heavily humiliating position, but even letting go of their prides, a lot begin to cry, realizing they're now in a place where even an accidental turn can result in them getting squashed against the floor; at least Amoure's paws are enticing and soothing, but yours only bring them fear alongside the ones of the familiar.  The whole world gets to see this. The entire human planet gets to witness how those micros get stripped of their dignity and get turned into mere objects of perverse delight, their faces buried against the partially humid fur and skin of pawpads and neighbouring areas, some even having their faces buried between toes, the less lucky ones even getting like waterboarded against the moist pawpads.

- "Oh, the wheel of fate is cruel I guess~" Amoure comments, while reading the replies - "Hmm, most are unhappy with this, but kinksters are loving it, they say you have quite big sexy paws, Nikojo."

 - "Oh, I bet they really do agree! Now then, let's see what's the next one up. Alright, chat. Suggest away~!"
I see the chat making their suggestions..." - you tell the camera; a smirk comes to your lips as the result of the wheel spin comes after a brief silence, everyone on planet Earth holding their breaths back, while the roulette slashes asunder through the thrilling alternatives… - "Well well well. Looks like I've gotten pretty horny enough that a tent is already up. Now, while you won't see the actual cock live, you DO get to see a micro get trapped in the bulge!"

 - "My, as expected, most people on earth are now kind of enraged, and telling us how we dare to do such perverse things on camera~ But the pervy gang is rather being, heh, vocal about their reactions. Look at the chat reactions~"

The succubus shows you his phone. From the screen, you can look at messages that read, more or less, like this:
"YES! Show us the big bad macro cock!"
"Oh, my, thank god november is over"
"Well if we're also gonna go like that I wouldn't mind *eyewaggle*"
"Holy... omg bring that underwear down, I bet their cocks look divine! In more than any way if you get what I mean :^)"
"Nikojo, your dick is so big it cannot fit the screen, care to move your big meaty balls away a bit? Hot"
"Omg look at that big hard cock"
"Me next plz"
"Are they gonna be fine tho"

Then, he takes the phone away a little in order to cast another spell. You can hear the sound of shelves, bookshelves and small security boxes getting open, basically all of the small containment doors in this magical labyrinth are getting open in order to release the imprisoned micros. Floating, dangling from a dark green magical mist, their little souls get brought into the room, about fifty of them, with two thirds getting stored into a jar, while the remaining ones getting divided in the three macros around.

 - "Ara, this will be the first time the human world gets to see my dick with this much of a detail; don't worry little ones, you're in good hands~" - Amoure then moves his hand down a little bit; the elegant mouse, being who he is, sports embroidered black lace around his waist, the same type of lingerie you'd find in aristocratic underwear, he's having it, although in burgundy and black shades. Screaming, a vixen and a lion guy get forced to descend, the mouse's pink cock arising with a fully hardened girth, desert sand fur covering the length, while the tip allows the glans to emerge with all of its violet-pink glory. Against the mushroom like entrance, their faces get buried, the vixen's lengthy snout even goes as far as actually getting shoved into the urethral conduct, causing Amoure to flinch a little in pleasure, the stain of pre cum starting to invade the piece of cloth as he wears it back again, the two souls entrapped between the tent and the tight cloth.

You, on your side, get your boxers down; your erection is longer and more powerful, as you are the one with the greater attributes in this room, the pink glans emerges from your fully straightened white length, the transparent, syrupy substance outflooding from your urethral opening, their faces end up buried deep against. Inevitably, this causes you to wriggle on your seat, because the sensation of having their tiny furred bodies caressing in the most sensitive part of your body automatically brings all sorts of horny and delectable sensations across your body. Your dick inevitably starts to throb as result. The screaming white wolf, the panicking white goat, those two guys do not stand a chance as they get their backs entrapped against the embrace of the boxer fabric, while their snouts, cheeks, eye sockets and foreheads get smothered against the anise-smelling surface. The eagle bud, on his side, does also get a pair trapped against.

The three of us now being thoroughly hardened, we can feel those micros struggling, writhing, trying to free themselves, but the skin of the prepuce, the innards of the urinary and urethral conducts are oh so sensitive, their little tails, their mouths and their limbs feel just so divine as they squirm; this, of course, causes us all to get flustered, and also pre to flow outwardly and soak the underwear fabric, causing it to go even tighter around them, because we all know wet fabric gets tighter~

 - "Ah... time to spin again..." - the familiar says, while a second familiar, a royal stoat, walks in for the fun...

 - "Alright, my friends. Let's see here... STOMPING is the next one! Sorry but it is what it is! First, Amoure, tell me what the chat is saying~"

Amoure giggles, and then brings the phone in close enough for you to read across lines.
"Wow, that was hot"
"Are they squirming? God wish I was there"
"Omg that's so hot, are they also wriggling your balls?"
"Must smell so hot in there"
"But, like, are they going to be fine??"

After Amoure puts the phone aside, he undoes the ties of his own paws. He chooses not to partake in the stomping, as his ethic is that micros should only die in bellies, so he transfers his own ones to the stoat familiar who, solemnly, takes in the responsibility by... viciously jumping upwardly and landing on the micros hard enough to plaster them on the floor, two large red stains beneath his pawpads as he slides upon until there's nothing but blood and squeezed out husks of what they were seconds ago.

 - "NO, WAIT, ANYTHING BUT THAT, PLEASE, PLEASE NOOO!" - the tiny little micros under your paws beg after witnessing what happened to the others, but you shrug and give them a big wide smile, before simply smashing your foot right against the floor beneath. Even if the wooden floor is made of soft mahogany, it is nowhere enough to cushion the force of a literal skyscraper weight paw getting placed on top of their little ribcages and skulls. You get a hard on from hearing the sound of their bones getting broken, the sound so similar to cockroaches getting their exoskeletons shattered.

 - "Well, that was fast, I guess we're gonna need more... ammunition for the stomping to last a little longer~"

 Amoure says, and uses his magic to bring in ten more micros from the ones stored in the jar. Goats, pigs, cows, deers, wolves, they all start to run in circles, knowing that no matter how fast they go, they won't escape your paws. The eagle familiar does his part, crouching and setting his two feet, one in front of each other, sandwiching the micros together until his paws begin to drip with blood as if an orange was squashed between his soles. You, on your part, begin to trample them, each stomp dealing a -99999 damage hit on each one... more than enough for an instant death. Then, the mouse pulls the phone again, and checks the comments:
"Gruesome!"
"Is this our fate?"
"Wow, my spine tingled when hearing their bones break"
"Wait, are they going to be fine?"

 - "God, I know you pervs are really interested, and I can see some donations trickling in! Hey, familiars. I need you to help set up camera views for this next one... And so, the next choice is... "

As the wheel spins, its a whole cacophony back at planet earth. Mankind just witnessed mass murder. It is not like most people has not seen it already, but they saw it live and in 8K; from the center of Toronto to Tiananmen Square, from the Red Square in Russia to Charlottesville, everyone stares in horror the kind of things macros can do to real people. A few... connoisseurs, a few men and women of culture however are at their homes, enjoying the show as they go squish squash~

…The wheel lands on the Paws option.

 - "Ara, it seems like we got a more, peaceful choice this time. It seems like you tinies are getting a break. Well, kind of~ You're all doomed anyway~” - Amoure's tone ends up being dark in that last sentence, the levitating spell bringing in more micros of varied species, to get sandwiched between their paws. For this matter, all four members get onto the back of our seats, setting our soles together, leaving only enough of an opening for those poor souls to end up smothered between the smooth surface of our soles.

The dogess and the tiger guy ending up in Amoure's paws are kind of lucky, for them, all what awaits is the lukewarm and moistened soft atmosphere of the gentle succubus. He smothers them enough just to have their noses wrinkled while playfully smooshed against the rather elastic surface of his pawpad; the ones in your and the familiar's pawpads do not get as lucky, they witness the morbid horror of getting soaked in hot blood, the burst organs and broken bones of the recently deceased furs and getting imprisoned between toes does also imply getting stained by all that cadaveric soup. The chat goes in, as Amoure reads it aloud…

"Wow, imagine being there"
"We're all going to die, aaaaa!"
"God, wish I could lubricate those paws, if ya know what I mean"
"But, are they going to be fine?"

Amoure giggles, and eyes you, wondering what the last spin is going to end up as~

 - "Right. Seems we got one more spin left, and you better hope it'll be a good one, cause whatever it lands on, I'm taking one of you real-world plebs to our world. Basically, we're gonna Isekai you directly! Someone is gonna be quite lucky to be up and close~", you tell them before setting your finger onto the perimeter of the wheel and set it spinning - "...And it coincidentally lands on magic. Time to make it HOT AF, cause it's time to bring a person in!”
"Hey, look at that! We're witches, we got magic, so let's see how this'll go~"

Magic is what it ends up getting up against; thus, the magic itself causes the wheel's options to merge down to a 50-50 ratio of either Vore or Donation Choice. As the wheel stops its rotating cycle, the final choice reads as vore. Thus, the remaining micros in the jar, plus 50 people randomly picked from Canada and the rest of the human world get isekai'd back into the world, as they land onto the same table that is holding the computer screen.

Little time do they get to inspect on the new bodies that have been granted to them, some seem joyful about having ended up sporting fur and ears, but for the most part, they're all scared about what is to come. The levitation magic drapes around them, and then they get split on equal parts and set to our laps.

It seems that the furries trapped in our underwear are going to remain there for a long while, perhaps forgotten about, and most likely doomed to drown in cum while we take a feast on the rest of the -little- audience. Amoure opens his mouth, and allows them to gently go inside, not even coercing them, they look back and realize the other three macros are way crueler, so they accept their fate and are thankful to get eaten by the one who is the most gentle. Amoure waits as they, semi willingly, crawl in and with their prides destroyed step fearfully into the dark corners of the back of his throat to slid downwardly.

On your side, you open wide and lift the handful of them high enough for them to stare down at your eyes and realize what true horror looks like. When they see your face, deep into your eyes, your smile is macabre, it freezes their blood, bristles their fur up, causes them to sweat cold, until they get dropped inside and you close your jaws around, three or four die immediately from getting crushed by your jaws, legs and arms stuck between your fang-shaped teeth and the rest of your intricate feline molars. A few of them also get injured from getting one or two limbs caught in the bite, the rest get shoved down hard by getting glued by the magical saliva, so sticky as to keep them down even if you spat them out. A sonorous gulp follows. You look at your other hand, they all scream and shake their heads.

On the side of the familiars, the situation is no different. Playfully, they toss the micros against each other, one by one, opening wide and trying to catch them with their gaping throats, some miss and end up splattered against the floor or heavily injured, the rest get swallowed straight into a nearly bottomless cauldron of green acids. When you are done with the rest of your micros, you let out a loud belch and rub your belly, feeling their little bodies writhing as they get burned alive, and continue to wriggle for about thirty minutes more.

 - "Ara, it seems that the donation team didn't get a chance tonight but, hey, we'll keep you tuned in for the next time we stream. Remember to donate, oh and don't even try to retaliate, you know. Not even your nuclear bombs can damage us... So, any last comments before we end the stream?" - Amoure asks, then the rest of the world stays quiet, while only one person was brave enough to send in the last comment…

"But, like, are they going to be fine?"

And then, the stream ends.

The end.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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I'm pretty sure I was allowed to post this here...

But anyway, this is a trilogy of stories that is tied to one thing: I became a femboy witch, and I'm sure that's gonna be really rare. But I was more than happy to do it, and I think this is just a teaser of what's to come...
But if you got any thoughts on it, let me know.

This is composed of three stories, in order:
Nikojo becomes the Witch
Nikojo's Second Strike
Nikojo's Stream

Stories by amoure
Nikojo is mine

Posted using PostyBirb

Keywords
cat 165,085, anthro 134,836, transformation 29,048, femboy 26,659, vore 22,444, fantasy 19,241, magic 18,748, macro 14,188, tf 8,750, death 7,885, micro 7,877, teeth 7,087, pov 6,479, size 5,656, witch 4,913, shoes 4,466, stream 4,028, succubus 3,908, digestion 3,368, mage 2,504, world 1,656, stomp 1,486, sneakers 1,424, justin 619, shoe 614, trample 212, isekai 39, nikojo 1
Details
Type: Writing - Document
Published: 5 months ago
Rating: Mature

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