Teaser: Tea Time (Mawplay, OV) (Patreon)

Phirae spots you easily against the tile floor. You don't have much to camouflage with, nor much to hide behind. The table? Too far away, and the floor's slippery when there's so much ground to cover. The cat's large steps cover the same ground much faster than you. In fact, He's so fast he slips and almost bowls into you. His paw skids across the tile like a pack of fluffy freight trains. Through luck or your effort to stop, you collide and stumble back without getting smushed beneath them.

You fall onto your rear, but get scooped up by the cat's hand before your butt can get cold from the tiles. The tight grip is warm, but not more comfortable. You squirm against the leathery pad of his fingertip, and manage to poke your head out from between his fingers. The cat ponders you curiously, head tilted, with a grin like he's trying to hold back on some kind of silly comment.

"I was just thinking about grabbing a snack, and it looks like I just did..." Phirae completely fails to hold back the silly comment. You're not sure if that's actually a joke. You are in the kitchen after all. He even licks his lips.

The sight of his jaws confirms it, as you're brought closer to his face. Hot breath wafts out, drool strands bridging across his teeth and tongue, a soft, wet squelch of shifting flesh as his tongue lolls out. And you, in his hand, being held above it all. Even if you could wriggle out of his grip, chances are you'd fall right into the abyss below.

“You won’t fill up my stomach all by yourself, should I find some other food to gulp down with you?” He teases. Phi practically purrs, salivating at the thought. “You’d better squirm hard, it’ll be hard to feel you underneath everything else I eat.”

He huffs again, a steamy wave billowing over you, so warm. It almost feels like dangling over the mouth of a volcano.

The cat's grip on you begins to loosen. You clutch onto his finger for safety, but he never actually lets go.

"Actually, hold on. Here's a better idea..." He murmurs, but his hand rushes to his maw anyway. In a moment, you're stuffed into the wet cavern and smothered into his tongue. His finger pushes on your back, pulling out with a wet pop, then a snap of his jaws locking you away. It’s all over in a second. It's like he forgot he was teasing you.

The world tumbles as his tongue mashes against your front. With one lick, he’s shoving you back against the unyielding barrier of his teeth. Hot drool soaks you instantly, painting over your front. You can't see anything but pink.

It parts a second later, when Phirae's jaw goes slack and a pressure that makes your ears pop pushes you halfway out of his lips. You gasp and sputter at the fresh air, then again at the cat's saliva dripping off of you. The macro doesn't seem to notice, or rather he doesn't care. He's busying about the kitchen, dangerously jostling you as you dangle from his maw.

Phi's got a mug in one hand, and with the other he opens up a few cupboards, rummaging through them all. He stops, and gives a triumphant murmur around you once he's found some teabags.

"Gotta have a drink to go with a treat!" He explains without taking you out of his mouth. His tongue flicks over your legs with every word, and his lips keep shifting to almost drop you at least twice.

You feel like a piece of candy, something to keep him distracted. He even starts humming a tune around you, when he's waiting for the kettle to boil. He licks over your lower half, occasionally slurping you back in fully and rolling you over his tongue.

You're not sure if this is better, or worse. On the one hand, Phirae hasn't swallowed you. Yet. On the other, there's no denying that he will, this is just delaying the process. And you've got to keep his mouth occupied for the entire time he has to wait for his tea to steep, and then cool down. That means getting very, very familiar with his tongue grinding you over every inch of his maw, rolling you against his palate, teeth, and cheek. He grinds you into the inner wall, pocketed in the slick flesh whenever he blows on his drink. Better than being accidentally spit out into it.

By the time he's done, you emerge from his lips to the steaming sight of the milkiest tea you have ever seen. Like a complete contrast to his dark fur, that thing has got to be at least 80% milk.

He sets it down on the table, next to a small plate of biscuits he's prepared while he was busy sucking on you like candy. One more lavishing slurp wrapping his tongue around your upper half, then he spits you into his palm.

"Be nice, and I'll share a biscuit with you too." He says, setting you down on the saucer next to the tea. Compared to the heat of his mouth, the outside world feels so cold. The cup nearby radiates warmth - at your size it's like a giant radiator. One that smells of almonds and tea leaves.

You nestle loosely against the cup handle, and Phirae's hand by proxy. One of his fingers slowly brushes across your head while he relaxes. When he pulls the cup away to take a sip, you can't help but stare up at his maw, where you just were. You can imagine what it looks like inside, as the drink washes over his tongue, pouring down his throat in soft gulps. It doesn't help that Phirae slurps loudly. He's definitely doing it on purpose.

"Really I shouldn’t need the extra sugar when I've got you for sweetness, hm?" He purrs, swirling the teaspoon within his drink. You can hear the whirlpools, sloshing against the inner rim. You glance at the cat's stomach. How similar is it in there?

He notices you staring, and slides across a biscuit. Up close, you measure up. It’s as tall as you are. The sugar crystals alone are big enough to be candy for you. Something like this could feed you for days if you were always this small. You take a few nibbles, but there's no way you're going to be able to eat the whole thing. Phirae takes another biscuit for himself, and tosses it so easily into his maw. It disappears without a trace. Just like you could. A snack, designed to be savoured and enjoyed. To be devoured.

For some reason you can’t bring yourself to run. You’re mesmerised by the massive feline, watching his jaw work. Crunch. Munch. Crunch. Food getting mushed by teeth you’ve been pressed again, rolled over, and held by. Doing what they do best. Doing what they do to food. He swallows, and a barely perceptible lump slithers down his throat. It disappears behind his collar, never to reappear, landing somewhere in the cat’s sleek middle.

You shiver. He doesn’t mean to tease you, it’s just the sheer size difference. At least you’re not on the same plate as the rest of the snacks, or else he might ‘accidentally’ grab you instead. This way he has to finish up all of his before he can think of stealing yours. Unfortunately that comes sooner than you think. Phi’s got a sweet tooth and a knack for nibbling, and all too quickly he reaches for the empty plate, tapping his fingers against the crumbs in search of a nonexistent biscuit. There aren’t any left. Except yours.

His eyes fall on you, and he hesitates, but only for a moment. You manage one last nibble before the cat snatches up your treat. You protest weakly, but Phirae shrugs.

“You can have it back, once you’re in there with the rest of them.” He sticks his tongue out playfully, while dunking your biscuit in his tea. It one follows the same fate as the rest - crunched carelessly in half, then stuffed in while he chews. When he opens his mouth again, all that’s left are wet crumbs and the sugary scent on his breath.

“If you’re sure you still want it...” He smirks.

At this point, there’s no avoiding it. You’re just the last snack for the massive cat to enjoy. He picks you up just as casually as another biscuit, giving you a rush of vertigo that ends with you upside-down, both your legs squeezed in his grip. You sway, trying not to slip, staring up while Phirae licks his lips, catching a stray crumb. He’s not letting that crumb escape, and neither can you.

But before he devours you, he treats you just like the other snacks. You get dunked into the warm, milky brew, casually shoved underwater like you messed up a bungee jump. It only lasts a moment, barely enough to warm up from the now-cooled drink, but it’s a fresh coat to soak you just when you were starting to get dry from Phirae’s saliva.

Some of the drink dribbles down into your mouth, giving you a taste for yourself. It’s sweet and enjoyable, though perhaps not quite as much when you’re being dangled above the cat’s open maw. He holds you there for a moment, letting you drip tea onto his tongue. You sway with his breaths; they smell like tea too. You can see him drooling at the thought of finally swallowing you down. You can also see specks of leftover biscuit across his tongue, floating in his saliva. You can feel his grip loosen, then the soft rush of air as you fall once more, right into the messy, humid maw.

You land and tumble over his tongue. It catches you in the slight curve, stopping you from falling right down his throat and instead collecting you up to get squeezed against the roof of his mouth. His tongue flexes, grinding over you, and you realise he’s tasting you again. Except this time you taste like tea and biscuits, doused in sweetness and sharing the space with gunked up mush.

The cat’s purr vibrates around you, while you’re pushed around on his tongue. Unlike before, he concentrates his efforts to suck every drop of flavour from you, surrounding you in flesh and swallowing down waves of drool when he’s not grinding you along his palate or pressing you against his teeth. You flinch away from his teeth, half expecting him to start chewing at any second. It’s hard not to feel like food, when flecks of biscuit mush collect along with you, eventually washed down when he swallows the excess saliva.

You stay pinned against his tongue for the first few gulps, but you and Phi both know it’s just delaying the inevitable. You ride up against the back of his tongue, and teeter at the edge of his gullet. The muscles flex, rich with the scent of his guts swirling with tea and biscuits. You wonder if anyone would be able to tell you’re in there underneath it all, in what must be even more of a mess than the cat’s maw.

You’ll see in just a moment, when his swallow drags you down, replacing every thought with his tight, rippling throat.

Glrk.

The heat grows even more intense as you slip into his body, disappearing like every other mouthful of food.